Much later, in love's afterglow as Patrick caressed the silken curve of her back, he said, "God, how I envy them! I'm going to go to Charles when we get back and ask him to release you."
"No, Patrick you mustn't!" she cried. "Promise me you won't! If you love me, you won't!"
"You seek to tie me hand and foot. Don't you understand I want all or nothing?" he demanded.
"Promise me!" she insisted.
He groaned, "I promise not to confront him, but I'll do everything in my power to separate you from him and bind you closer to me." He crushed her in a demanding embrace.
Patrick swept the covers from her and knelt above her in a towering passion. His face was hard and dark, his eyes stained with desire. "Lord God, how I'm going to make you quiver," he vowed.
His tongue anointed her from throat to thigh, every silken inch, every secret cleft, until Kitty lay in a love-drunk sprawl. "I'd love to do these wicked things to you if it weren't so wrong," she breathed huskily.
He murmured openmouthed against the soft inside of her thigh, "When we share a bed there is no such thing as wrong, no such thing as sin, no such thing as forbidden." He drew her hand to his shaft to show her the enormous effect she had on him. Her fingertips brushed across the velvet head, drawing forth drops of liquid love juice.
Kitty knew an overwhelming desire to taste him. She raised her fingertips to her lips and sucked the taste of him from them. It was a mix of salt, spice and smoke, all heavily scented with pure male animal. Without coherent thought she slid down his body and drew him whole into her hot, wet mouth.
Patrick's cry echoed round the bedchamber and she knew an insatiable need to hear the dark, hoarse, intimate sounds again. Patrick was determined not to waste his seed in such a frivolous way. He pushed her back down on the bed and entered her with a thrust that sent him deeper than he'd ever been before. As he felt his seed start he groaned, "You know I cannot give you up now. Not even if you beg me."
As his white-hot life poured into her, she was too far gone in rapture to even hear him.
Their time together was over. Kitty lay cradled in his arms inside the coach. They were traveling to the coast together, but she insisted on taking the public ferry back to Liverpool.
"Give me time?" she begged with tears in her eyes. He kissed her temple and murmured:
"Tonight I am coming
To visit you in your dream
And none will see and question me.
Be sure to leave your door unlocked!"
She surrendered her mouth to his, half faint with the thought of separation.
"I feel I am dying of love," she wept.
"I have the cure," he promised. He opened the window and called to the driver, "Stop at the next inn. My lady is ill and in need of attention. "
The couple who kept the inn were consumed by curiosity when the well-dressed gentleman swept in with a woman in his arms and demanded their best bedroom. They spent the next three hours conjecturing what was happening above stairs.
Chapter 28
Kitty was worried. She counted again to make sure there was no error in her calculations.
"It's not possible," she told herself, but an inner voice contradicted her mockingly. "Not only possible, but probable after such wanton behavior. But Patrick would have been careful. He would never have been negligent in such matters, not again," she told herself.
Then his voice came to her loud and clear: "I'll do everything in my power to . . . bind you closer to me."
"Oh, no; please, Lord, no! Don't let him have deliberately gotten me with child," she prayed silently.
"Let's see: It happened at the end of September, beginning of October . . . that would make it . . . seven, eight, nine . . . end of June, beginning of July. I'm only frightening myself! Next month everything will be back to normal," she promised herself fervently.
In November her menses again proved elusive. With many sighs, Kitty resigned herself to the inevitable. At least she wouldn't be big enough to show before Christmas, when social activities couldn't be avoided. She really didn't know what she hoped to accomplish with her secrecy, and the mocking voice from within kept repeating, "Ignore it as much as you like, it won't go away!" So far she had managed to avoid Patrick by becoming almost reclusive, and whenever his words came back to her about demanding that she leave Charles, she pushed them resolutely away. The scandal she would bring down upon their heads frightened her. Not for herself; she had never given a tinker's damn what anyone said about her, but Charles would be devastated. She could never hurt him so cruelly. Then there was Charles Patrick. How could she take him from Charles? It was unthinkable. She would sacrifice her own happiness a thousand times over before she would do that. "Oh, Patrick, why can't you understand?" she asked silently.
The morning sickness began; in fact, it lasted most of the day. Just before Christmas, Charles came upon her gazing unhappily through their bedroom window. He came up behind her to see what held her solemn attention on the ground below. She was watching the birds eat some crumbs. "Remember the blue and yellow parrots that flashed through the trees on the island? Do you miss them sometimes?" he asked.
"Oh, no, I love the starlings. They make me laugh when they run on their little red legs."
"Then why are there tears on your cheeks?" he said softly.
"Well, they also make me feel sad, especially when they lift one foot up and tuck it underneath them because the ground is so cold."
"It all sounds most fanciful to me. Come and tell me what's ailing you, darling," he coaxed gently.
"I'm with child," she blurted. He stared at her in amazement. "You're shocked," she said.
"No, only surprised, and I shouldn't be surprised after pushing you to seek diversion, should I?" he asked gently.
"Charles, I wish with all my heart that I didn't have to hurt you like this," she said wretchedly.
He patted the sofa. "It isn't the end of the world, Kathleen; come while we consider it carefully. If there's one thing I've learned in life it's that everything in the world has its advantages and its disadvantages. Charles Patrick needs a brother or a sister; it will do him a world of good. My stock in society will go up as they whisper, 'There's life in the old dog yet,' and you will just adore another baby."
"And the disadvantages?" she asked faintly.
There were crinkles around his eyes. "I can't think of any."
Kitty wrung her hands. "Damn you, why are you so saintly? Why don't you beat me, or throw me out?" she cried.
He came to her and held her close. "I cherish you. If anything ever happened to you I wouldn't care to live."
Now, at least, she didn't have to lace so tightly or disguise the fact that she was feeling wretched. She knew she could put off seeing Patrick no longer. She sent a note around to Half-Moon Street
, but it was returned with a note from his man that he was out of town for the New Year's holiday and would be returning about the middle of January. As it happened, Charles got to see him before Kitty did. They met at the club when Charles was with a couple of government colleagues. The conversation was all war and how to make profits from it. Patrick was always good for a few tips that would swell the old coffers. Patrick turned to Charles. "Will you be coming to Julia's party Friday?" he asked almost too casually.
"I think we'll have to send our regrets. I'm worried about Kathleen. She's such a little thing. The doctor says she's not strong; far too thin."
"Doctor" Patrick was alarmed. "Is she ill?" he demanded.
"Well, not really ill. Confidentially, she's in a delicate condition. I don't think she wants anyone to know about it just yet, so don't let on."
Patrick was stunned. She'd kept it from him for four months! He cursed himself for his careless inconsideration.
She was having a bad time, too. No wonder she hadn't been near him since they returned from Ireland.
The next day, while he was writing her a carefully worded note, he was relieved when his man told him that
the duchess was there to see him.
He looked down at her with longing. It took an iron will not to crush her in his arms. She was definitely thinner; there was no way he could have guessed she was carrying a child.
She began in a rush of apology for not seeing him, and the excuses fell from her lips in bright little phrases. It began to dawn on him, incredibly, that she wasn't going to tell him! "You do understand that the stolen moments we shared must never be repeated?" she said in a rehearsed little speech.
"What about my baby?" he asked slowly.
She flew at him with clenched fists, her composure shattered. "You did do it on purpose! Oh, I just could knock you down. If only I were a man!"
He held her arms to her sides to ward off the blows. "You weren't going to tell me, were you? You know damned well I'd insist on claiming my children and you!"
She completely broke down at his words. "God help me, Patrick, I can't walk out on him. I have too much pity and compassion for that. You are so strong, Patrick. No one ever could pity you," she said, sobbing.
"Thank God for that," he said quietly. Her plight touched his heart; he was so vulnerable where she was concerned. "My own love, I brought you pain when I told you to decide between us. The pity of it is, it was just male pride. I know you love me. I respect you for standing on your principles." He kissed her brow.
She clung to him desperately. "Principles are a trap door; when you do stand on them, you go straight through." She looked suddenly stricken. "I'm afraid I'm going to be sick."
He helped her to the bathroom. Afterward he washed her face gently.
She gave him a tremulous smile. "I bet you're thankful you've been saved from a terrible fate."
He didn't laugh. "If you don't take care of yourself, you're going to lose this baby, Kitty. I couldn't bear that and neither could you. I want you to go home and rest, and for God's sake, eat! You're so fragile, you look like you're going to shatter. Try to be calm; think beautiful thoughts, and don't worry your head about me. My God, am I such a bastard I've got you worrying your guts to fiddle strings? He brushed her lips with his. "Go now. I'm here if you need me."
The May afternoon was warm and sunny. Kitty had spent endless hours with Old Tom, the gardener, planning a butterrfly garden. The old man had been so skeptical when she told him that in the islands they planted certain flowers to attract different varieties of butterflies.
"We'll use showy sedum, sea holly and Jacob's ladder with scabiosa behind. Then the little rock plants in front like creeping phlox, moss pink and rock cress. There're some good annuals we'll need to attract the prettiest ones, like naughty Marietta, verbena, cosmos, wallflowers and what's that red stuff . . . fireweed!"
"It won't work in England; we've no butterflies-only them white things that eat cabbages!" he said stubbornly.
"Oh, Tom, you're a gardener. How can you say that? We have red admirals, painted ladies, Milbert's tortoiseshell, spring azures, and mourning cloaks, to name only a few."
She walked heavily now, under her burden, but she looked happier and more contented. Charles Patrick came running. She took his hand and they went off to feed the swans.
"When you have the baby, I won't be the baby anymore, will I?" he asked happily.
"Good heavens, you haven't been a baby for ages," she wisely assured him. Later that night, as she gazed down at her sleeping son, she whispered, "Little Patrick, how exactly like your father you are, and now, God help me, I'm about to bring another little O'Reilly into the world."
Charles moved quietly out of the shadows and went into his bedroom. A report sounded through the house. Kitty looked up startled, then she ran along the hall toward Charles' bedroom, a gathering fear clutching at her heart. She was calling for Katie at the top of her lungs, long before she reached the bedroom door. Her hand turned the knob reluctantly, knowing what she would find. Katie was behind her as she opened the door and quickly slammed it shut again in horror.
"Get a doctor! Hurry! Hurry!"
As Katie ran down the stairs, she said, "What's his docctor's name? It's gone clear out of my head."
"No, no, his doctor lives in Harley Street
. Quickly, go across the square. The big house at the corner has just been bought by a doctor," she said breathlessly.
Mimi came running upstairs. "Was that a gunshot I heard?"
"Yes, yes. There's been a terrible accident. Go to Charles Patrick; make sure he doesn't leave his room!"
Kitty had gone a ghastly shade of putty. Her mind screamed, "No, Charles, no!" all the while she was giving directions. Two menservants came, but she waved them back. "I'll go in to him. Stay here, please."
She went into the room and began to talk to Charles. "It's all right, darling, I've sent for help. It's all right, you're not going to die. I won't let you." There was no blood. The gun lay on the floor beside Charles. It was such a tiny hole, it couldn't possibly have done much damage. He lay very still. Her pregnancy prevented her from getting down on the floor.
She pulled the comforter from the bed and draped it around him to keep him warm. "The doctor's coming, Charles. Hang on, for God's sake, hang on," she begged. She lifted his hand and held it tightly. All the while she knew that he wasn't just unconscious, but she clung in desperation. If he hovered anywhere between life and death, she would bring him back. She looked up dazed as Katie ushered the doctor through the bedroom doorway. She was hallucinating! This had all happened before! Otis Grant-Stewart stopped on the threshold. Recognition dawned on him as he looked at the young woman before him.
Kitty raised her hands in supplication. "Please help him!" she begged.
He gave the body a cursory examination.
"We meet again under identical circumstances, madame," he said coldly.
"He can't be dead," she said firmly. "He is quite dead, madame," he said. "Do something, anything!" she ordered.
"Indeed I shall, madame. I shall inform the police and the coroner's office. I shall order an autopsy and an inquest into this shooting. When one's husband is found with a bullet in his head, the circumstances are regarded with suspicion. When one's subsequent husband is found with a bullet in his head, the circumstances are damning!"
"What will you do with him?" she asked, all her thoughts still with Charles.
"I shall inform the coroner's office. Attendants will come and remove the body. I bid you good evening," he said curtly.
"I bid you good riddance!" said Kitty, coming out of her trance. She called in the menservants. "Lift him up onto the bed, please. Be very gentle," she admonished. When they left she brushed back her husband's hair, all gone gray now.
"Why must we always hurt the ones we love?" she asked him. "Good-bye, Charles," she whispered tenderly. "May you be half an hour in paradise before the devil knows you're dead."
She stayed beside him until they came to collect the body.
Afterward, she sat so still Katie didn't know what to do.
"Ma'am, do you realize the serious trouble we are in?" she asked fearfully.
The child kicked hard. "Life and death," mused Kitty, putting her hand to the baby. "It's a matter of life and death, isn't it?"
"That doctor should have done something for you. He could see what condition you were in. Let me help you to bed."
Kitty ignored her words. "I want the carriage brought round. Bring me a cloak, Katie."
"You can't go out alone, you're in shock!" She stopped when she saw Kitty's face. "I see you are determined," she said with resignation. "I'll come with you."
The carriage stopped in Half-Moon Street
. Katie left Kitty in the carriage while she went for Patrick. She was back in a minute and told the driver to go on to Cadogen Square
.
"He has business at Julia's," she explained quickly. This time Kitty could not wait in the carriage, but went up to the door herself. When the butler opened to them she swept past him toward the sound of voices. The three people were in a heated conversation ab
out shares and proxy votes. They broke off abruptly as Kitty entered.
Patrick came to his feet immediately. "What has happened?"
Kitty said with disbelief, "Charles has killed himself!" Patrick was beside her in two strides. She felt his comforting hand at the small of her back, and she said, "It's my fault!"
Julia cried, "You've been trouble since the day Father brought you into our home. I wouldn't be surprised if you hadn't killed him too!"
A slap rang out. Jeffrey stood before his wife and said pointedly, "At least she didn't murder her own baby, madame. Leave this room at once or I won't be accountable for my actions!"
When Julia had gone Patrick said angrily, "It's about time you were master in your own household."
"I apologize for my wife. I will do anything I can to help you both. I'll leave you so you can have some privacy," he said, taking Katie from the room with him.
Patrick led Kitty to a chair, then fetched her some brandy.
He knelt beside her and guided the glass to her lips. She choked as the fiery liquid touched her throat and Patrick took the glass from her trembling fingers.
"I was saying good night to Charles Patrick ... my thoughts were all of you . . . I was thinking aloud . . . Charles must have heard . . . he shot himself." She looked at him helplessly. "There was nothing I could do . . . there was nothing anyone could do."
He clasped her hands between his and found her hands like ice. He knew there was more, but he waited for her to tell him without his prompting.
"It was like a nightmare ... I sent Katie for a doctor . . . it was the same doctor who came when Simon was shot."
She closed her eyes against the ugly memories. Patrick brought her a footstool. He gently eased her back in the chair and lifted her feet.
"He's ordered an autopsy, an inquest ... he thinks I killed him!" she cried.
"No, no, that's simply routine in the City of London. Under the circumstances he had no choice whatsoever," he reassured her. "I use the best barristers and solicitors in
London. We'll get you counsel. You won't have a thing to worry about. An inquest is just a hearing, remember, not a trial."
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