The Courtesan Duchess (23 page)

Nick had been so certain Julia had lied, that another man had been responsible for her intimate knowledge of physical activities. She’d been too . . . talented for him to believe otherwise. The idea that he’d been her first lover seemed laughable.

He thought back to that first time, when she’d straddled him in a chair. He’d been too consumed with lust to notice any sign of a maidenhead, but he did remember the force with which she’d ridden him. She’d instantly taken him deep and hard. Had it been out of frenzied lust, as he’d assumed, or to pierce her membrane without calling attention to it?

Afterward, she’d immediately risen to clean both herself and him—the only time she’d done so in the time they spent together.

A sickening feeling blossomed in his stomach.

Had his wife really remained a virgin for
eight years?

The idea seemed ludicrous. With her body, wit, and intelligence, she could have any man at her fingertips. Why in the world would she save herself for him—a man she didn’t know and would likely never meet? It didn’t make any sense.

He rubbed the back of his neck. If Julia had truly been a virgin in Venice, then the baby . . . Dear God. A sharp stab of pain exploded in his chest. Had he been wrong this entire time?

He took a deep breath and attempted to keep a level head. There was no use getting hysterical. Time would tell whether the child was his or not. And just because Julia had hired Pearl Kelly didn’t mean she’d been a virgin in Venice. If she’d been desperate to trick him into believing her bastard child was his, then gaining advice from Pearl would have guaranteed her success by making her irresistible in his eyes, maiden or not.

Again, time would tell. He merely needed to be patient in order to get the answer he needed.

But the seeds of doubt had sprouted, leaving him shaken and unsure.

 

 

Simon left Seaton Hall after Lady Sophia and her stepmother arrived. Julia was sad to see him go, but he promised to visit again once the baby was born.

Over the next two weeks, she and Sophie began working on the nursery in earnest. New rugs were laid on the floor and the room had a fresh coat of cheery yellow paint. They purchased curtains and furniture, and Sophie drew an exact replica of the Seaton Hall pond on one of the walls.

They were unpacking a box of toys purchased in the village when Julia felt a light flutter inside her abdomen. When it happened again, she gasped. “Sophie! The baby. He just moved. I felt it!” She grabbed her friend’s hand and placed it on the hard bump of her belly.

It took five minutes, but the baby did it again. “Did you feel it?”

Sophie’s eyes were huge. “No. But I believe you. Is it strange?”

Julia nodded. “Strange and wonderful. I must go find Theo. I’ll see you later.”

She dashed down to the second floor and hurried to Theo’s chambers, where her aunt was resting this afternoon. Julia couldn’t wait to tell Theo about finally feeling the baby move.

When she turned the corner, Theo’s door cracked. Fitz, appearing somewhat disheveled, stepped out of her aunt’s bedchamber. Julia stopped in midstride. Perhaps he had been bringing Theo—

A feminine hand Julia recognized as Theo’s shot out to grab at Fitz’s shirtfront, and the huge man was pulled down at the waist. His head disappeared into the room and Julia heard . . . kissing.

Fascinated, Julia pressed herself into the shallow alcove of a closed doorway in order to remain invisible. She studied her shoes and waited.

Theo . . . and Fitz.

She suppressed a hysterical giggle.

Heavy footsteps sounded. She peeked out to see Fitz sauntering down the corridor in the opposite direction. Theo, who had watched him go, spun to return to her room—and spotted Julia.

Eyes wide, her aunt clutched her dressing gown closed. “How long have you been standing there?”

Julia hurried over, pushing her aunt back inside the bedchamber. “Long enough. Aunt Theo, I cannot believe you! He’s so . . .”

“Big. I know.” She gave Julia a conspiratorial elbow in the ribs.

Julia couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Theo! I was going to say
young
. He’s got to be half your age.”

“Not quite, my dear. I’m not that old, either. And I like him. He’s sweet.”

“Well, I’m happy for you. How long has this romance been going on?” Julia went to sit on Theo’s bed, and then thought better of it when she remembered what had just transpired there.

“A few weeks.” Theo’s cherubic face fairly beamed, and Julia could see how much joy the affair brought her. “I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it.”

Julia stood up and hugged her aunt. “If he makes you happy, Aunt Theo, then it makes me happy.” Feeling the hard swell of her belly against her aunt made her recall the original purpose for her visit.

“Oh, I came to tell you I felt the baby move. Here”—she held her aunt’s hand on the mound—“let’s see if he’ll do it again.”

A few minutes went by and nothing happened. “Oh,” Julia muttered. “I really wanted you to feel it with me.”

Theo patted her arm. “There is plenty of time ahead for that, my dear. In only a few more months, we’ll be holding that precious love in our arms. But why do you always refer to the baby as a ‘he’? It might be a girl, you know.”

“True. But since this is the only child Colton and I will produce together, I am hopeful it will be a boy. Then I’ll know I’ve done my duty.”

“And who gives a flying fig about your duty? If Colton truly does not wish for an heir, then no one need be concerned with the sex of your child.”

“I suppose that is true, although Colton could change his mind someday. Well, whatever it is, this child will be
mine,
and I shall raise him or her how I see fit.”

“Fitz says Colton is miserable in London.” Theo kept her voice low, even though no one else could hear them.

Julia leaned forward to grip Theo’s hand. “He is? Oh, what else did Fitz tell you?”

“Says the duke hardly goes out, merely sits and broods in the London town house by himself.”

“By himself? Oh, I hardly believe that. Surely Nick has found companionship there. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already had a mistress—or two.”

Theo shook her head. “According to Fitz, the duke hasn’t entertained any lady friends. Said they went to a brothel one night, but Colton came out a few minutes later looking scared out of his wits.”

Julia didn’t know what to make of that information. While she was glad her husband hadn’t taken a lover, she found herself confused as to why he would rather be alone than here at Seaton Hall. “He’d rather ignore me and be miserable in London than be here, together.”

“That’s what Fitz thinks. Says Colton is punishing himself and you by staying away.”

“Well, at least I have you and Angela to keep me company.”

“And soon you’ll have a baby as well,” Theo reminded her.

It was a lovely summer. Julia became larger and larger as the weeks went on. She took long walks, read by the pond, and clipped fresh flowers from the garden. Theo and Fitz were constant companions on her outdoor excursions, the result of wanting to be together as much as guarding over Julia. Angela was also about, chatting incessantly as always.

When the August heat finally rolled into September, Julia expected Nick to arrive at any moment. Surely he had realized his error, that this baby was not a bastard but his own flesh and blood. Shouldn’t he be groveling at her feet for forgiveness?

His absence hurt. When the baby kicked, she wanted to share it with him. At night, she longed for his touch to soothe her backaches and sore feet. She felt alone and scared, preparing for the birth of their first child in just a few short weeks. Was he still so angry that the truth no longer mattered? The small amount of hope she’d harbored to salvage her marriage wilted along with the summer blossoms.

As the second week in September became the third, Julia no longer cared about anything other than giving birth. She was miserable . . . and huge. Walking—even breathing—became uncomfortable, and she could hardly eat anything because she felt full all the time. She no longer even cared about Nick. He’d obviously washed his hands of her, and she couldn’t muster up enough energy to be hurt any longer.

The midwife said it would be any day. She told Julia to walk as much as possible and send for her at the first sign of labor.

And just when Julia was sure she would not survive another day, it happened. At nuncheon, she’d been complaining to Theo how much her back hurt. The ache was more powerful than in days past and she wondered if she shouldn’t return to bed. Theo urged her not to, repeating the midwife’s words to keep walking. So it was that afternoon, while strolling out on the terrace, when fluid gushed from between her legs.

Fitz, who’d been watching her closely the past few days, quickly ran for Theo, who immediately sent a footman for the midwife, Mrs. Popper. The two of them then helped Julia up to her bedchamber, where Theo dismissed Fitz and changed Julia in a clean night rail. The pains started not long after, light and mildly irritating at first. By the time Mrs. Popper arrived thirty minutes later, however, the pain had increased significantly.

Four hours into it, Julia thought the agony could not possibly get worse. The midwife had Julia on her feet, moving slowly about the room, in an effort to hurry the babe. The pain, when it came, ripped from behind her back all the way across her belly for what seemed an eternity each time. During those moments, she clutched Theo’s hand and every unladylike word in her vocabulary came pouring out of her mouth.

“How much longer?” She gripped the bedpost and held on, panting for breath.

“I’ll check you again in another thirty minutes, Your Grace. The last time I looked, the babe was not ready to come out.” Mrs. Popper was a kindly older lady, but Julia was not thinking particularly kind thoughts about her at this time.

A knock sounded at the door. Theo went over to deal with whoever it was, and Julia doubled over as another pain seized her. When Julia could breathe again, Theo took her hand. “Colton is at the door, my dear. Shall I let him in?”

“Colton? How in heaven’s name did he get here so quickly?”

Theo shifted uncomfortably. “He’s been staying at the inn in the village for the past three weeks.”

“
Three weeks!
” He’d been in the village for almost a month. Why had he not come to stay at Seaton Hall? Or at least visit? “Why did you not tell me?”

Theo wrung her hands. “Fitz asked me not to. Apparently, Colton did not want you to know of his presence.”

God, did he hate her so very much, then? She’d proven she hadn’t cuckolded him, and he still didn’t want to see her. She was having their baby and he couldn’t even bother to stay in the same house.

A pain that had nothing to do with the baby ripped through her chest. “Send him away.”

“Are you sure—”

“Send. Him. Away,” she snarled as another pain came upon her. Nodding slowly, her aunt turned to the door.

Six more hours dragged by. Angela arrived to sit for a bit in order to give Theo a break. Julia was now in the bed, resting between the pains. The periods of rest between pains were becoming shorter and shorter, and the amount of pain was increasing, too. Mrs. Popper warned her not to expect the baby for another hour or so.

Julia did not know if she could last much longer. She was exhausted and nearly delirious with pain. Angela and Theo mopped the sweat off her brow and gave her sips of barley water, neither of which did anything to alleviate the feeling of being ripped apart from the inside.

An hour and a half later, Mrs. Popper declared it time to push. The room became a flurry of activity in preparation for the baby, though Julia hardly noticed. She was so tired, she hadn’t the slightest clue where the required strength to push would come from. Her limbs already felt like jelly and she could barely keep her eyes open.

Her mind drifted as an escape from the pain. She thought of Venice, of running her fingers through her husband’s silky black hair as his head lay in her lap. Nick, holding her hand and teasing her through Torcello. Nick, smiling softly at her right before he kissed her. She wanted to feel that way again. “Nick,” she moaned. “Please, I need my husband. Someone—”

A pain clutched at her insides and Julia screamed. Mrs. Popper began directing Theo on how to help hold Julia now that she needed to push. “Nick!” Julia shouted when she caught her breath. It no longer mattered that he’d stayed in the village, away from her. She needed his strength, his reassurance that all would be well. She wanted the Nick from Venice.

In agony, her head thrashed wildly on the pillow, sweat poured off her. “I need Nick. Here with me. Now.” She dimly heard Angela tell Theo she would take care of it before leaving the room.

 

 

Nick couldn’t sit still. He’d nearly worn a hole in the Aubusson carpet from pacing. Almost twelve hours had gone by. Was this normal? Should there not be a baby by now? He’d heard the screams from outside Julia’s rooms. The awful feeling that something was wrong gnawed at him. Christ, if he lost her—

The library door opened and Lady Lambert walked in. “Well?” he breathed.

Angela shook her head. “Not yet. She asked that you to go back to the inn. We shall send word if she needs you.”

A wave of disappointment rolled through him. “She does not want to see me at all?”

Angela’s eyes were full of pity. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. We’ll send for you if you’re needed before morning.” She turned and left.

It was exactly as he feared. Julia did not want him or need him. He’d been so wrong, so stupid, in assuming she’d been having another man’s child. The things he’d said to her . . . He worried if she would ever forgive him. God knew he would never forgive himself.

It was why he’d kept his distance these past few weeks. Based on the timing, no doubt the child was his. How could he face its mother, knowing what he’d said? She had every right to hate him, and apparently she did.

“Mayhap we should stay, regardless of what Lady Lambert says.” Fitz was in the chair by the fire, flipping through a biography on Jonathan Swift.

Nick dropped into a chair, put his elbows on his knees, and cradled his head in his hands. He’d gone to her door earlier, had asked to see her. It had been terrible, standing in the corridor and listening to her shouts of pain. His only thought had been to offer whatever small amount of comfort he could. But Theo said Julia did not want to see him right then. That he should wait in the library, and his wife might change her mind.

Apparently she hadn’t.

The house seemed to mock him. He hadn’t been wanted here when his parents were alive, and nothing had changed now that they were dead. His wife didn’t want him here, either.

Not that he could blame her. The guilt over what he’d done had been eating at him the last few weeks. He could hardly sleep or eat, knowing the day would soon come when he’d have to face Julia. What could he possibly ever say to her in order to apologize enough?

And now she’d sent him away. His chest constricted, and he cursed himself a fool for the hundredth time. “I’ll be at the inn. Send me word when . . .”

Fitz nodded. “I will. Have a care on your ride back.”

“I’m carrying a loaded pistol, Fitz. I’ll be fine.” With a heavy heart, Nick stood and walked toward the front door. Thorton appeared out of nowhere. “My horse, Thorton.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” He disappeared down the hall, leaving Nick to look around one more time.

Perhaps it was for the best. After all, what would he know to do with a baby?

As he left, the Duke of Colton had but one objective in mind: to get blinding, stinking drunk.

 

 

The world tilted and flipped. Something was wrong. The fog in Nick’s mind cleared ever so slightly, just enough for him to realize his feet weren’t on the ground. And yet he was moving. He could feel the jostling of footsteps but they weren’t his own. He tried to open his eyes, couldn’t, and started laughing instead.

“Christ.” The voice was deep and somewhat familiar.

“Fish?” Nick tried and failed once again to make his eyelids cooperate.

“It’s me, Your Grace. And apologies for what I’m about to do.”

Nick didn’t understand, the words hopelessly jumbled in his skull. So he relaxed....

Icy cold water splashed on the back of his head, jolting him out of his stupor. He tried to move out of the way but his arms wouldn’t lift. All he could do was shake in order to tell the water to stop. Only, the cold water kept coming, gushing over him until he almost couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t know how long it went on—it seemed forever—but he finally staggered away, soaked to the skin, and forced his eyes open. “Damn it! Stop.” He pushed the wet hair back out of his face.

Fitz let go of the inn’s pump handle and the water trickled to a stop. “I haven’t seen you this foxed in a good number of years. Facedown on the floor of your room, you were, when I found you.”

Ah, it was coming back. Seaton Hall. The inn. Julia and the—“Did she . . . have the baby?”

Fitz grinned. “She did. A baby girl. Congratulations, Your Grace.”

A baby girl. His daughter. Nick’s knees gave out and he crumpled to the ground. Bloody hell. He was a
father.

Though his brain was still muddled, the horror and fear sank in. He didn’t know how to be a father. It was obvious he didn’t even know how to be a husband. How was he supposed to act? What should he do?

“Lady Carville said to fetch you. We best be headin’ back to the hall.”

Nick sat in the dirt of the inn’s yard. He was a mess and, despite the cold bath, half-sprung. “I need to make myself presentable first. Help me up, will you, Fitz?”

An hour and a half later, Nick had sobered considerably. He’d bathed, shaved, and dressed, all the while allowing Fitz to ply him with strong tea. He felt wretched. His head pounded a rhythm directly behind his eyes and his stomach rolled at the mere idea of food. But he was anxious to return to the hall, so Nick soon found himself on Charon’s back, riding toward his ancestral home.

“Have you seen her?”

“Your daughter?” Fitz asked. When Nick nodded, Fitz smiled. “I have. A head full of black hair and a set of healthy lungs, that one. Takes after her father, I’d say.”

Nick’s stomach clenched. He should have been there, should have waited at the Hall to see his daughter. Not even a day into fatherhood and he’d already failed her.

And what of his wife? How would Julia react to his presence? Fitz said Theo had sent for Nick. So did that mean Julia wanted him there? Or, would she tell him to leave again?

God, he’d made a hash of it.

One thing for certain, if Julia couldn’t forgive him then he’d leave for the Continent as quickly as possible. It made sense. Julia had made it clear she didn’t need him, and he’d already straightened out the estate finances. She’d never want for anything ever again. So what more could he do by staying in England?

When he finally knocked on his wife’s door, he was not sure what to expect. Would she even see him?

The door cracked an inch and Theo’s round face appeared. “Come in, Your Grace,” she whispered, holding a finger up to her lips.

Nick stepped inside and saw a tiny bundle in Lady Carville’s arms. His breath hitched. Fuzzy black hair covered the baby’s head. He couldn’t look away from the small delicate face, with long dark lashes resting on her cheeks as she slept.

Theo took his arm and led him past Julia’s bed, where his wife was currently sleeping. There were hollows under Julia’s eyes, her skin a ghostly white. She appeared exhausted.

They entered Julia’s sitting room, and Theo closed the door.

“Pardon me for asking, but where the devil have you been?” Theo gave him a hard glare though her voice remained soft. “She needed you, Your Grace.”

Nick frowned. “What are you talking about? She told me to leave. I went back to the inn last night.”

Theo sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “She called for you. For
hours
. She had a rough time of it and wanted to see you.”

He must have more alcohol left in his system than he thought because none of this made sense. “Lady Lambert said—” And then it hit him. Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. Why had he assumed Angela spoke the truth? He, of all people, should know how deceitful she could be, despite her assurances that she had changed.

“I am an idiot,” he mumbled.