The Duty and the Gone (The Fertility Plague Book 1)

by Claire Vale

  Seriously, what were we even doing here? Roman wasn’t just not bothered to aspire to this lifestyle, he actively did not want it. I was pretty sure that’s what he meant when he’d said, On the contrary, that would bother me very much. So why was he so desperate to impress and lock down his next promotion? What was he really chasing?

  “Shall we?” His hand came to a rest on the small of my back, applying the slightest pressure to guide me by his side, to unite us as we navigated the patio steps to join the party.

  The intimacy was a lie, as false as the smile I plastered on my face. I wouldn’t be expected to engage in meaningful conversation or champion my husband’s ambitions. My opinions weren’t worth that much. All that was required of me was smiles and complacency.

  Roman introduced me to a short, thickset man with no hair and even less humor. High Warden Kingsley.

  “So this is the missus,” the man said, forgoing the usual pleasantries to jump straight to belittlement. He barely spared me a glance, his full attention reserved for Roman. “It would seem I underestimated you.”

  “I got lonely,” Roman said. “Don’t read too much into it.”

  “New wife, same old attitude,” Kingsley dragged out thinly.

  “Excuse us.” Roman’s hand slid from the small of my back, to wrap my waist and steer me. “I see our hosts and we haven’t said hello yet.”

  “That was the High Warden?” I murmured once we were out of hearing. “Wouldn’t that make him your superior?”

  Roman’s hand fell away from my waist. “There are two High Wardens and five senior wardens. They’re all my bosses.”

  “Well, you did a lousy job of impressing him.”

  “My intention was to make an impression on him,” Roman said. “Not to impress.”

  I had no idea how to decipher that and there was no time to demand a better explanation. Greeting our hosts wasn’t some vague excuse; we were on a direct path to the councilman and his wife.

  Miriam Edgar was a regular feature in The Society, our weekly newspaper, and I’d seen her about on many occasions from a distance. I’d always thought she had a delicate flower look about her, beautiful and ethereal and too fragile for this world. That opinion didn’t change up close.

  The councilman was another matter, the opposite of what I’d expected.

  Julian Edgar clasped my hand in his and said warmly, “Georga, I’m delighted to meet you. We’re very fond of Roman, and please know, you’re always welcome in our home. Isn’t that right, darling?”

  “You’re always welcome here,” Miriam reiterated without the warmth, without any apparent feelings either way about welcoming a stranger into the bosom of her family.

  “You look lovely as always, Miriam,” Roman said, the rogue charmer.

  A hand fluttered to her bosom. A shallow, almost vacant smile. “Why, thank you,” she delivered in that same unaffected tone. “I do believe they’re about to carve the lamb,” she said to Julian. “Should I ring the serving bell?”

  A rhetorical question. She floated away, white muslin skirts swirling around her ankles like a will-o’-the-wisp.

  I caught myself staring after her and pulled back to the conversation just as Julian asked, “You play tennis?”

  I turned a smile on him. “Not very well.”

  “That’s not what your dossier says.”

  He’d read my dossier?

  Of course he’d read my dossier. He would have had a vested interest in every St. Ives girl the moment Daniel registered into the rotation for marriage this year. But was he the one who’d advised Daniel against me at the last minute?

  To my credit—or perhaps that should be to Mrs. Brownfield’s credit—my smile never wavered. “I hope my dossier also mentions my humble modesty.”

  Julian chuckled, a rumbling, hearty chuckle that creased his face. “You really are a breath of fresh air. I knew I’d like you the moment you had the good sense to accept Roman’s offer and I wasn’t wrong.” He clapped Roman on the back with another chuckle. “You’re a lucky man.”

  Roman’s hand slid around my waist again, tucking me into his side. “I certainly am.”

  He even sounded as if he meant it. I filed that seamless duplicity away for future reference and braced myself to not squirm beneath his touch, the lean muscle pressed to my hip, the scent of pine and ash infusing my skin. There was no way to escape this without causing a scene. I could only stand there, my head filled with partial accusations against Daniel’s father, my body rigid, and Julian was inviting me to join some tennis club hosted here on his lawn court the first Sunday afternoon of every month.

  “It’s an informal affair,” he said. “Only family and friends and I should warn you, I intend to tag you for my mixed doubles partner. We’ll make an unstoppable team. What do you say?”

  No, no and no. Why on earth would I want to spend the first Sunday afternoon of every month with Daniel and Brenda? But Julian was not an easy man to refuse, with his implied compliments and gracious invitations and affable smile, not to mention his position.

  I was saved from answering by a gong, a deep treble bass sounding out to announce the food was being served.

  “Excellent,” Julian said, clapping Roman on the back again with a lighthearted laugh. “We should stake our place in the line before the crowds descend.”

  There was indeed a line forming in front of the rotating spit. The quirky appeal of a spit roast, I presumed, this being my first. A server handed out porcelain plates at the head of the line while the chef carved meat straight off the roasting bone.

  Roman raised his hand in a wave. “There’s Daniel. I think we’ll wait at the back of the line for them, if you don’t mind?”

  Julian didn’t mind, not at all. Me, on the other hand…my shoulders tensed as I saw Brenda and Daniel and their entourage heading our way. Suddenly Brenda latched onto Daniel’s arm, reached up onto her toes to whisper in his ear. He bent his head toward her, that lopsided grin sneaking out as he said something to her.

  My stomach soured and I just couldn’t, I couldn’t do this right now. “I need to take the weight off my ankle,” I said to Roman, turning to walk off before he could argue. “I’m going to find a seat.”

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just great.” I sent him a glance over my shoulder, smoothing my tone, “I’m fine.”

  His scowl sank into me. “I’ll bring you a plate.”

  “Thanks.” I brought my gaze forward, by now immune to his scowling demeanor, and walked around to the back of the gazebo where a field of wildflowers sloped down to a trickling stream.

  Perfect.

  Peaceful.

  A natural-hewn picnic table, with four stumps for chairs, peeked out from a weeping willow. Even more perfect. If Roman brought the rest of them along, there wouldn’t be place for everyone to sit. That would be my excuse to retreat gracefully.

  Mom had raised me to stand tall in adversity, not to run and hide.

  Rather a coward than a bitch. I could stand up to Daniel. I could stand up to him a hundred feet tall if I had to. But I didn’t know how to deal with Brenda without being a total bitch.

  I hopped onto the slab of wood that was the table, my feet propped on one of the stumps, and had only just got comfortable when Lisa, of all people, slapped aside a drooping branch to invade my sanctuary.

  “Hi,” I said, watching her warily. “How did you find me?”

  “I saw you slinking away behind the gazebo.”

  “I wasn’t slinking.”

  Lisa leant against the trunk, folding her arms as she studied me. “You can’t avoid Brenda forever.”

  “I’m not avoiding Brenda,” I said defensively. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because she’s a crappy friend? That was really low, accepting Daniel’s offer.”

  “And you wouldn’t have accepted him in a heartbeat?”

  “Sure I would’ve,” she said. “I’ve never pretended otherwise. But I�
�m not one of your supposed best friends. I didn’t hold your hand, listen to you plan your fantastical life as a councilman’s wife, reassure you to your face that Daniel wanted you and only you, and then step over your crushed delusions in my haste to marry him.”

  Her brutal summary cut too close to the bone, exposing the root of my hurt and confusion. I didn’t want to talk about Brenda. Especially not with Lisa.

  I shoved a hand through my hair, tipping my head to look at her. “You knew all along, didn’t you? You knew Daniel wasn’t going to offer for me.”

  “Actually, I didn’t,” she said. “I hoped he wouldn’t. But I honestly thought it was a done deal. I was as shocked as everyone else when it wasn’t you.”

  “Well, you got your wish.”

  “Yeah, not quite. My wish was never about you not having him, Georga. It was about me having him.” She considered me for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. “Look, I tend to speak bluntly, but I am sorry about you and Daniel.”

  A smile tweaked my lips. “Not as sorry as you are about you and Daniel.”

  She laughed. “I’m not going to lie…”

  “Who did you end up with?”

  “Brian Gossling,” she said. “He’s a few years older than us, already an officer in The Guard, and my father promised me he’d fast-track him up the ranks to the very top, so I’m okay.”

  I nodded. “I’m pleased you’re happy.”

  “Who said I’m happy?” she snorted. “Now, I can fetch a blanket so we can all picnic here beneath your pretty tree. Or I could drag Brenda and Daniel across to the opposite end of the estate. What’s it to be?”

  I didn’t have to give it too much thought. “You’re right, I can’t avoid Brenda forever.”

  “I’ll go fetch that blanket,” she said, pushing away from the tree.

  “Lisa?” I called after. “Thank you.”

  She rolled her eyes at me and swept through the draping foliage. “It’s just a blanket.”

  And so much more.

  I’d always thought of Lisa as slightly hard, cold, and she was, but her straight-talking had jolted something loose inside me. I hadn’t created this mess on my own, so why should I manage the fallout on my own?

  If Brenda didn’t like the new dynamics of our relationship, perhaps she should be the one to run and hide.

  11

  The group came straggling around the corner of the gazebo in pairs, Roman and Daniel leading the way with picnic hampers in hand.

  As soon as she spotted me, Brenda rushed forward with a huge smile. “I was so excited to hear you’re here.”

  I strained away from the imminent hug and slid off the table to put distance between us before greeting her with a cool, “Hi.”

  Her brow puzzled, then cleared. The smile remained intact. “Daniel never mentioned you were even invited.”

  Daniel looked at me, his smile more reserved, apparently the only one beside Lisa who appreciated the sensitivity of this situation. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “And miss the chance to see you suffer?” Roman ribbed him.

  Embarrassment heated my skin. Was seeing me with Roman supposed to make Daniel suffer? Would it? “I don’t understand.”

  Daniel groaned. “My father insists I end the afternoon off with a speech. You know, the whole, ‘Thank you for sharing this day with us, blah, blah, blah,’ and…” he sent Brenda a slow, exaggerated wink “…how blessed I am with my beautiful new wife.”

  Brenda giggled.

  My cheeks caught fire. Not everything’s about you, idiot. “Sounds like you’ll do just fine,” I mumbled, averting my gaze, nearly stumbling in my haste to help Lisa spread the blanket.

  “The speech isn’t the problem,” Daniel said. “It’s also going to be my first public—and official—broadcast.”

  My eyes shot to Daniel. Not many houses in Capra had private viewing screens for entertainment and news, but every Sunday evening the giant screens in places like the town square played an hour-long recap of the past week’s events and news, including anything and everything official. “Tomorrow’s screening?”

  “Now you understand.”

  I did. “Ouch.”

  “Thank you!” He threw his arms out, grinning at me. “It’s so nice to have someone sympathize instead of mock.”

  One of the guys I didn’t know, a stocky blond, punched Roman lightly on the arm. “Or eagerly anticipate your humiliating debut.”

  “Not eagerly,” Roman drawled. “My enthusiasm is moderate at best.”

  Daniel shook his head, laughing.

  “I’m sure you’ll be amazing,” Brenda said, hooking her arm into his, looking up at him, no doubt fluttering her long lashes. “You’re a natural.”

  That deserved a pat on the head. I thought.

  Daniel smiled at her and unhooked his arm, but only so he could wrap that arm around her waist, not unlike the embrace Roman had forced on me earlier. Except Brenda didn’t look as if she were battling some desperate impulse to get free. In fact, she seemed to melt into his side.

  I tore my gaze from them and dropped onto folded knees beside Lisa on the blanket.

  Lisa dragged a hamper closer, leaning in to say confidentially, “You should eat, so you have something to puke up later.”

  “I’m not going to puke,” I growled beneath my breath.

  “If you say so.” She shrugged and flipped the lid open. “Come on, everyone. Plates and glasses in the other hamper. Food’s in here.” She looked at the stocky blond. “Jack’s got the wine.”

  He wiggled the bottle of red wine in his hand as he settled on the blanket.

  Which would make the quiet, sober-looking guy Lisa’s husband, Brian. He parked himself next to Lisa and I bent around her to introduce myself.

  “Hi, I’m Georga.”

  “Brian.” He gave me a curt nod and glanced away.

  Okay.

  Jack reached across the blanket with his hand stuck out. “Jack.”

  “Jack with the wine.” I smiled and shook his hand.

  “A school friend of Daniel’s,” Lisa said, pulling his attention. “He’s not married, but not from lack of trying. He says.”

  Jack clasped a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

  “So, who rejected you, then?”

  “A man never offers and tells.”

  That broke out a round of laughs from everyone and I was actually starting to enjoy myself when I saw Brenda eyeing the spot next to me.

  “Roman,” I said quickly, tapping the blanket with my fingers, “I’ve saved you a place. Come sit with me.”

  I realized my mistake even as the words left my mouth.

  His brow arched, but to my utter surprise he came over and did as I’d practically ordered.

  “Sorry,” I said softly. “That came out wrong.”

  He looked at me, a glimmer of amusement lightening the depths of his eyes. “You didn’t want me to sit here?”

  I got lost there for a moment, stunned. For just a moment, I totally forgot I was still mad at him. My pulse hummed in my throat and I was staring, intensely aware of the warmth pooling in the bottom of my stomach.

  “Um, sorry…” I blinked and lowered my gaze. The moment passed and I came to my senses. It was all an act. The teasing. The playful glint in his eyes. Just part of the Roman & Georga Show. He was still the man who’d threatened me with isolation to get me here.

  “I want you to sit here,” I told him. “I just didn’t mean for it to sound like a command.”

  “I know,” he said, softly-spoken.

  I ignored the tug to look into his eyes again, to go searching for another moment in those dark depths.

  The conversation around the blanket flowed as we pecked from the dish of carved lamb, nibbled on freshly baked buns, sipped sparingly from our glasses of wine.

  Every now and then Brenda threw me a look, a comment, a question, most of which I glazed over with some vague response. I found I wasn’t even actively up
set with her anymore, I’d just lost all interest—whether she deserved it or not, I didn’t care. I’d successfully numbed-out on the Brenda-Daniel-Georga triangle and was quite enjoying my state of fugue until she went and ruined it.

  “It’s awesome,” Brenda told us, referring to the construction of her and Daniel’s brand new home. “I can’t wait to move in. Not that I don’t enjoy staying with your parents,” she said to Daniel, then back to the rest of us, gushing, completely oblivious to my feelings. “They indicated it may be ready before the end of the year. We could take a walk there now, if anyone would like to see. There’s a shortcut just across the field.”

  After some back and forth, it was decided there wasn’t much else to do—we were off to see the newly wed couple’s future love nest.

  Sorry, future home.

  Sorry, I just couldn’t.

  The shortcut included slimy green stepping stones to cross the trickling stream.

  I hung back until everyone had crossed before calling out, “I’m not risking my ankle on these stones. I twisted it and it’s still not healed right. Go on without me, I’ll wait here.”

  Roman said something to Daniel and then came back across the stream while the others continued on.

  “You don’t have to wait with me,” I said, annoyed.

  “I’m not,” he said and, without a hint of warning, scooped me into his arms.

  I gasped, the breath knocked out from me. One arm cinched around my thighs, the other locked dangerously close beneath my breasts, my cheek squashed to the wall of his chest.

  My breath returned.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded, my body board-stiff. I refused to wriggle in his arms like a flailing fish out of water. It wouldn’t do me any good anyway. He was all muscle, lean and hard.