Finding the Black Orchid : A Victorian Historical Romance (Brides of Scandal Book 3)

by Diana Bold

  "Did you know orchids can live forever?" He brought some more of the strange, mossy stuff over to his workbench. "But they're also the very devil to keep alive."

  "How can anything live forever?"

  "They grow slowly. It can take seven years for a seed to bloom. They may wither away in the back, but the front is always growing."

  Interested, Jessalyn drifted up and down the rows, looking at the specimens Ethan had collected during his travels. She'd never had the opportunity to see orchids like these. Many were quite ugly, though some were eerily beautiful.

  "Orchids make themselves irresistible to the insects that pollinate them," Ethan continued. "Some look just like the insect, some disguise themselves as an enemy of the insect. Anything to draw the insect in."

  "How odd. They sound far too smart to be mere plants."

  He laughed. “Their ability to change and adapt is what draws me to them. They survive, no matter what the consequences."

  She stilled and wondered again about the ugly slash on his wrist. Did he love orchids because of the terrible tragedy he’d faced? Did he admire their survival instincts, since he’d once found life too hard to bear?

  "There are thousands and thousands of different orchid species. I've discovered over two dozen new ones by myself."

  "That's amazing." She wrenched herself back into the conversation, when all she really wanted to do was ask him about his wrist. She wanted to know everything about him, especially the things that had hurt him. "Do you get to name them?"

  He smiled and pointed to the thing he was working on. "Perhaps I'll name this one after you. Cattleya Jessalyn. It will be my wedding present to you."

  She laughed. "It's rather ugly and spiny looking."

  "Oh, but when it blooms, it will be spectacular. A pink so brilliant it hurts your eyes, with a streak of green around the petals."

  "I can't wait to see it." If this was all she could have of him, these moments spent among the orchids, working together to create something as lasting and important as a book, then it would have to be enough.

  She’d pour her passion into the work, as he did, and be content to have him as a friend. Better that, than nothing at all. Perhaps, if he had success breeding the flowers, he wouldn’t feel the need to travel to the far ends of the earth.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Ethan! Wait!"

  Ethan paused at the bottom of the stairs, surprised to find Jessalyn on the landing. She'd obviously just woken up, given her charming state of dishabille. Golden hair streamed about her shoulders and she wore a virginal white dressing gown.

  He gave her a questioning smile and tried not to dwell on the fact that he'd spent his wedding night alone.

  "Are you going out so soon? I want to work with you today. You can show me which orchids you need me to sketch." She looked so hopeful, so sincere.

  He longed for the peace he found in the solitude of his work, but he couldn't say no. "Come if you like.”

  It disconcerted him to realize how quickly she'd insinuated herself into every aspect of his life. It was far too easy to imagine the way things might have been, if only she loved him the way she'd loved Flint.

  At his grudging invitation, she grinned and scampered down the stairs. "I can't wait to get started."

  "Don't you think you should get dressed first?"

  His sardonic words stopped her in her tracks. She glanced down at her nightgown and bare feet, and embarrassed color rushed to her cheeks.

  "You must think me a complete idiot." Blushing furiously, she turned and dashed back up the stairs.

  "I think you're lovely."

  He didn't realize he'd said the words aloud until she spun back around. For a brief second their eyes met, but the pleasure in her eyes turned to horror as she lost her footing on the slick marble stairs.

  With a startled shriek, she fell.

  Ethan lunged toward the stairs, but he wasn't quick enough. By the time he reached the bottom step, she'd already tumbled all the way down, smacking her head hard as she came to a stop.

  "Jess!" He dropped to his knees at her side, stunned by the swiftness of the accident, terrified by how still and broken she looked. "Dear God, Jess. Are you all right?"

  Her eyes were closed; her face ghostly pale. She made a soft whimper of pain as he gathered her into his arms, and he wondered if it had been wise to move her.

  "It's all right." She felt so light and unsubstantial in his arms. So fragile. "You'll be all right, sweetheart."

  Relieved to hear rapid footsteps, Ethan glanced up at the approaching footman. "Get Lord Harding. And send someone for a doctor. My wife has taken a nasty fall."

  My wife. His arms tightened reflexively, and he hoped this wouldn't be the last chance he had to say those words. Please God, let her be all right.

  The young man's eyes widened as he took in Jessalyn's condition, but then he nodded. "Of course, sir. I'll go for Dr. Martin myself."

  Giving the lad a grateful look, Ethan pushed himself to his feet and carried her to her bedroom. Kicking open the door, he strode to the bed and laid her down gently.

  "Come on, Jess," he whispered, fighting to keep his panic at bay. "Come on, sweetheart. Wake up."

  There was no response. She remained deathly still, her breathing shallow and erratic. Terror welled within him as a bright red stain blossomed on the front of her gown.

  "Christ. Is she all right? What happened?" Christian entered the room at a run, his breath hitching dangerously.

  "It's my fault." Ethan ran a shaking hand through his hair. He felt as though he were caught in a recurring nightmare. When Jessalyn had fallen, it reminded him so much of the day he’d lost Elizabeth. Guilt and fear clawed at the back of his throat, and he found it difficult to speak. "I knew this would happen. I can't keep her safe, Chris. I can't keep anybody safe."

  Christian threw him a chastising look as he examined Jessalyn for injuries. "I'm sure this isn't your fault. Tell me what happened."

  "She was dashing up the stairs, and I said something inappropriate…" I think you're lovely. Bloody hell, he couldn't even give a woman a compliment without causing utter chaos. "She turned and slipped."

  "An accident." Christian shook his head and placed his hand upon Jessalyn’s stomach. "You can't go through life taking the blame for every accident that happens in your vicinity."

  As Christian pressed upon Jessalyn's stomach, she moaned, and her eyes flew open. She bit her lip and stared up at them, confusion and fear in her face.

  "It hurts," she whispered. "Oh, God. It hurts so much."

  Overwhelmed with relief to see her awake, Ethan brushed his knuckles across her cheek and gazed into her pain-filled blue eyes. "Where does it hurt, Jess? Have you broken something?"

  Her hand went to her stomach and tears flooded her eyes. "The baby. I think there's something wrong with the baby."

  * * * * *

  Lying in her sunny bedroom suite, Jessalyn stared at the painted ceiling above her. Her eyes were so dry they burned. She hadn’t cried yet. Not a single tear. What was wrong with her? She should be sobbing wretchedly. If she weren’t such a terrible, horrible person, she surely would be.

  She’d lost her child.

  Waves of conflicting emotion battled for precedence with her. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated, so she bounced back and forth between the two.

  The baby was far more real to her now that it was gone. Before, she'd tried not to think about it. She'd never let herself imagine whether her child would be a girl or a boy. She'd never picked out a name. She’d never thought about how it would feel to hold the child in her arms or watch it grow to adulthood.

  Now she couldn’t think of anything else. All the “what ifs” and “might haves” haunted her.

  This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have been running up the stairs. I was so reckless, so careless.

  Perhaps, deep down, she’d hoped something like this would happen. She’d wanted to be free of the
terrible burden of bearing James Flint’s child, and now she was. Her guilt made nausea well within her. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.

  A soft knock sounded on her door. She flinched and removed her hand from her barren stomach. “Come in.” Her voice was scratchy from disuse. She wished everyone would quit being so solicitous and leave her alone.

  The door opened, and Ethan stuck his head into her room. “Would you like some company?”

  She gave a listless shrug. "I don’t care.”

  He crossed the room and sat beside her on the bed. He stared down at her with those intense green eyes, as though he could see into her very soul. “How are you feeling?”

  Unable to hold his gaze, she turned her head. “I’m fine. The doctor says I’ll be myself again in no time.”

  He took her chin in his warm hand and turned her to face him. “I spoke to him myself. He assures me you’ll be able to have more children.”

  A bitter laugh welled up from some deep, dark place within her. “Will I? And who will give them to me? You?”

  He drew his hand back, and a startled look flashed over his features. “Is that what you want?”

  A surge of longing temporarily chased away her grief, but she forced herself to be practical. His words were empty platitudes to comfort her. He probably didn’t mean them. “Don’t you see? You can walk away now. Our entire reason for marrying is gone.”

  Ethan looked wounded by her words, but then his expression cleared, and he gave a slow nod. “Perhaps it’s for the best. I’m no good for you. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened.”

  I think you’re lovely.

  The words he’d spoken on the stairs reverberated in her mind. Had it been a careless compliment or something more? She gazed at him, trying to decide, but the guilt and regret on his face broke her heart all over again. This man took too much on himself. He always had. Somehow, she had to convince him he wasn’t to blame for her accident.

  “Oh, Ethan. It wasn’t your fault. I was clumsy, that’s all. But I understand if you want to leave. I never expected you to stay.”

  “Don't think that.” He closed his eyes, as though he couldn't bear to look at her. "Don't ever think it's because I don't care. Perhaps it's because I care too much."

  "Yes, I know. You care for me like a sister. But didn't it ever occur to you and my brother that I might need more than that? That eventually you might need more, too?"

  “I never meant to hurt you.” He rubbed his temple as though his head ached. "All I ever wanted was to help you and make things easier for Christian."

  "I know.” Guilt poured over her. He'd been so good to her. It wasn't his fault she wanted more than he could give. "Don't ever think I don't appreciate all you've done."

  "If you want me to leave, I will. All you have to do is say the word."

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Exhausted by the whole conversation, she buried her face in her hands. "This is your home. If anyone leaves, it should be me."

  "I bought this house for you. It’s yours. No matter what happens."

  The tears she'd been unable to shed fell fast and hard now. It would kill her to lose Ethan when she needed a friend so much. How much loss would she be forced to bear?

  "I don't want you to go. I can’t be there for Christian without you.”

  "Ah, Jess." Ethan's rigid control vanished. His voice was an anguished whisper as he gathered her into his arms. "I won't leave you now. Not while you still need me. I meant later… after."

  He held her and stroked her hair, whispering sweet nothings as her world fell apart. She clung to his broad chest and cried for the child she'd lost, and the love he would never give her. How could she tell him she'd never stop needing him? Never stop loving him?

  Ethan held his wife while she cried, feeling utterly helpless. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to hold her forever and never let her go.

  Deep down, he supposed he was relieved he wouldn’t have to raise James Flint’s child as his own. But he was sure he would have grown to love the baby in time, and it hurt more than he cared to admit that she’d seemed so aghast at the thought he might one day give her another child.

  He was her husband, after all.

  Before, leaving her behind when Christian died hadn’t seemed so cruel. He’d been comforted by the fact that she’d have a child upon which to lavish her love. But now, she’d be all alone in this house that had been meant to hold a family. Could he live with that?

  And if he couldn’t, was he willing to take the obvious steps to ensure that didn’t happen? Could he walk away from Jessalyn after he’d made love to her? Could he walk away from his own child?

  A soft sound caught his attention and he looked up. Christian stood in the doorway, a melancholy smile on his lips as he watched them. Their gazes caught for a moment, and Ethan knew this was what Christian had wanted all along. For the two of them to become man and wife in truth.

  Ethan ducked his head. He was unworthy of his friend’s trust.

  What a tangled mess he’d made of everything. He’d never asked for any of this, hadn’t wanted to become so deeply enmeshed in their lives. And he certainly hadn’t expected to have to deal with birth and death, love and loss—all the things he’d spent his entire life running away from.

  The next time he looked up, Christian was gone.

  Jessalyn cried until she seemed to have no tears left, then fell asleep in his arms. He still didn’t let her go.

  * * * * *

  Hours later, Ethan tucked Jessalyn beneath her blankets and went in search of Christian. He found his friend sitting in front of the fireplace in the library, a glass of brandy dangling from his hand as he stared into the flames.

  Ethan paused for a moment in the doorway, struck by Christian’s wasted appearance. He looked far worse today than he had just a few weeks ago. It wouldn’t be long now, and the thought struck fear into his heart.

  Christian turned his head. His watery, red-rimmed eyes reflected his grief for his sister’s loss. “Is she asleep?”

  Ethan nodded, then grabbed a bottle of his own off the sideboard and sprawled in the chair next to his friend. He drank straight out of the bottle, then met Christian’s gaze. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I don’t like it.”

  Christian raised one brow. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

  “I saw the look on your face when you saw me holding her. Now I think perhaps this whole thing has been less about me salvaging her reputation and more about you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I was doing fine on my own. I didn’t need this. I don’t need a wife and children. I don’t need a family.”

  Chris laughed, a low, bitter sound. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”

  Ethan ignored his friend’s denial. “It will never work. She still loves Flint.”

  “She doesn’t love him. I don’t think she ever did. I’ve seen her watching you. She’s intrigued. Wouldn’t take much effort on your part to woo her, but you're too much of a coward to take the risk.”

  Ethan’s anger subsided at his friend’s astute remark. For just a moment, he allowed himself to remember the feel of Jessalyn’s lithe, sweet body in his arms, of the total trust with which she’d clung to him. “You know why I can’t do that. You know better than anyone.”

  “I know why you think you can’t,” Christian corrected. “But that’s just an excuse. You’ve been running away from what happened to your siblings your entire life.”

  “I didn’t start running until after I was chased away.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Christian waved a dismissive hand. “Maybe I threw the two of you together to see what kind of a man you truly are, deep down. I wanted to know if you can care about someone, anyone, the way you care about those damned flowers.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Ethan scrubbed his hand across his face. “And you know it’s not because of your sister. I’m not a complete bastard.”

  “I
never said you were,” Christian murmured. Then he stood and left the room.

  * * * * *

  Outside the library doors, Christian sagged against the wall. Another hellish coughing fit tickled the back of his wasted lungs. He would have laughed, if it didn’t hurt so much.

  Ethan thought he wanted him to fall in love with Jess.

  If he knew the truth, he’d run as far and as fast as only Ethan could. He’d end up in some godforsaken, mosquito-infected backwater at the far end of the world, disgusted and more certain than ever that he was meant to be alone.

  Thank God he hadn’t seen the jealousy that had torn Christian apart when he’d entered his sister’s room and seen Ethan holding her so tenderly. Of course, he wanted happiness for both of them, and deep down he knew they could only find it with each other.

  But it isn’t fair.

  It wasn’t fair that he had this damned unrequited love for the man. It wasn't fair that he’d go to his grave without ever tasting what he’d hungered for his whole life. He’d never have someone to hold him while he cried or hold his hand when he struggled not to give in to the terror he felt at the prospect of dying.

  The truth was that he’d brought Ethan into this mess because he’d wanted to be close to him in the end, even if it meant seeing him fall in love with Jess.

  He simply hadn’t realized how hard it would be.

  Chapter Twelve

  The doctor ordered Jessalyn to remain in bed for two weeks, but long before the first one ended, she chafed at the inactivity. She hated being an invalid and sympathized anew for her brother's plight.

  How hard it must be for Christian to give up all the things that had been such a part of his life—his racing phaeton, the hunt, and his weekly boxing matches at the club.

  She thought of his once active social life, the late-night parties and wild activities that had kept him from her side. How she wished she'd gotten to know him better before he got sick. It hurt her to think that if not for his illness, they might have lived separate lives forever.