She felt a sharp pain deep inside her and leaned over, trying not to retch, and her hands flew to protect the new life there. Dear God, she thought, my baby! In a moment the pain left her, and she straightened, her movements those of an old woman. What was she to do? There was no going back and even if she could bear the squalor of a divorce, she knew Charles would never allow it, for she carried the possible heir to Wrotherham. Suddenly she wished she had never met the arrogant, superior duke, never fallen in love with him, never lain with him and conceived his child. Was her life always to be so horrible and complicated? Was she never to know any peace at all?
She heard the duke stirring beside her, and knowing she could not face him just yet, she lay down again and, turning her head away, closed her eyes. The sun that had seemed so benevolent only moments before could not warm her now, and she hoped Charles would not notice her trembling. She sensed it when he turned and looked at her and then she heard him rise and move away. A moment later, her shawl was laid softly over her, and she could have wept as she felt his hands tuck it gently around her body so as not to disturb her slumber. Charles, Charles, she cried deep inside, why did you do it? Why?
In the little time that it took the duke to dress and repack the hamper, she had composed herself. She knew she was not able to tell him what had happened just yet, for she needed more time to get used to the sudden recovery of her memory and to make plans for how she would handle the future. When he knelt beside her and put his hand on her shoulder, she was ready. She opened her eyes and stared up at him. She had all she could do to summon a faint smile to her stiff lips.
“I shall call you Sleeping Beauty, love,” he teased, stooping to kiss her lightly. “I am sorry to disturb your rest, but it grows late and there is a cool breeze come up.” He handed her her shift as she sat up obediently, and added, “I will carry these things back to the landau while you dress. Our secret journey is over, but I will never forget it.”
“Nor I, your Grace,” she murmured as he strode away. “Perhaps it is to be the last really happy day of my life, I cannot tell.”
As she fastened the hooks of her gown and pulled on her stockings, Emily mourned the innocence that had been hers in her illness. If only she had not remembered! If only it were possible to go back!
She could not bring herself to talk very much on the return drive, and when the duke questioned her, she was quick to excuse herself by saying she was a little tired.
“I hope it has not been too much for you, my dear,” he said, his dark eyes worried as he whipped up the team. “But we will soon be home and then you may rest till dinnertime if you like. I should confer with my agent, in any case. The poor man has been trying to get my attention for some time, but we know, , do we not, love, why he has been so unsuccessful?”
He threw back his head and laughed, and Emily tried again to smile. As they drew up to the steps at the front of the house, he added, “And no one will remark on our early bedtime tonight, for you will go up alone to sleep. I will not disturb you, my love.”
He handed her down from the carriage and gave her his best bow, and then, oblivious to the many windows behind him, he kissed her hand. “My dearest,” he murmured, “you have made me so happy, I am sure the gods are jealous. I hope they are not even now preparing their revenge.”
He took her up to her rooms himself and summoned her maid, and just when Emily thought she must scream from the tension of trying to appear normal in front of him, he went away.
She sank into a wing chair before the fire, and when Reynolds came in and curtsied, she could barely summon a normal tone of voice to order tea. How many times had she herself stood just like that, eyes downcast and hands folded meekly before her, awaiting her mistress’s pleasure? And since her marriage, how many times had she ordered Reynolds to do this and that with no more concern for the woman than Lady Quentin and her other mistresses had had for her? She remembered the morning when she had spoken so coldly to her maid for coming in while Charles was still in her bed, and how she had laughed about it afterward—laughed, like some grand, cruel lady when in reality she and Reynolds were equals.
Emily was quick to dismiss her when her maid brought the tea, and when she was alone, she got up to pace up and down, her hands clenched and her face pale.
By the time the first dressing bell rang, she was as confused as ever. She had not been able to decide what she should do, for her mind had ranged instead over everything that had happened to her since her mother died. It had been like glancing through a book she had read years before, making the reacquaintance of characters she had once loved but since forgotten.
But always her thoughts came back to Charles and their brief liaison, and once again the anger flooded back as she reviewed every single minute of their time together and realized that he had not introduced her to a single member of his family or ever suggested he wanted her to meet his friends. Oh, no, she thought bitterly, he rushed me down here to the country where no one can see me, and he intends to keep me hidden here as long as he can. In spite of his loving words, he is ashamed of me, for, otherwise, why would he not brazen it out as he had always said he would do? She discounted the opinions of his army of servants; they would take their orders and their cue from him. It was clear to her now that he had married her because he had “ruined” her, a girl from a good family, and because she was pregnant, and for no other reason. Of course he was not averse to making love to her; after all, had he not paid a high price for the privilege?
She did not know how she was to face him, sitting across the table and pretending everything was just the same as it had been before they set out this afternoon, and when Reynolds answered the bell, she asked her to make her excuses to the duke and tell him that her Grace had decided to have a tray in her room and go to bed immediately, and that she did not wish to be disturbed.
She knew that Charles would not go down to his solitary meal without looking in on her, and she pretended to be dozing when he came in. He picked up her hand where it lay on the satin coverlet, and then she felt his soft kiss on her hair. She tried to keep her breathing deep and even until she heard the door close behind him.
When Reynolds came to take her almost untouched tray away, she was about to dismiss her for the night when she had a sudden thought.
“Reynolds,” she said, making her voice easy and assured, “I would like to borrow one of your aprons and caps, if you will be so good.”
The maid looked surprised, and she added, “It is something the duke and I were discussing this afternoon, and I want to play a little joke on him.”
The maid curtsied, still looking confused, but she returned promptly with the required articles before she bid her mistress good night.
Emily got up and dressed in one of her most sober dark gowns, and then she sat down at the dressing table and brushed her curls out before she pulled her hair back into a severe knot. With the apron tied around her waist and the cap in place on her head, she rose to stare at herself in the large pier glass and discovered that the Duchess of Wrotherham had disappeared, and in her place was only another servant. She sat down by the fire to wait, and when she heard voices in the duke’s rooms, she tiptoed over to the connecting doors.
Charles’ deep voice spoke an order, and she heard Greene murmur a response. It seemed to take forever before she heard him say clearly, “Very good, your Grace. I shall call you at eight. Good night.”
Charles answered him, and when Emily heard the door close, she straightened up and, taking a deep breath, opened the door.
Charles was sitting before the fire, a glass of wine at his elbow and his chin propped up in one hand as he stared into the flames. At some tiny sound she made, he turned his head, and the smile that was already forming on his well-cut mouth froze for a moment as his dark brows came together in a frown.
“You remembered,” he whispered, getting slowly to his feet and staring at the lady’s maid who had replaced his duchess. Miss Nelson was back, butto
ned into her usual neat dark gown and crisp apron and cap, her beautiful blond hair skinned back in an ugly knot. The only thing that was different was her expression. As a maid, she had never stared at him so directly, and she would never have dared to show such scorn and anger in those emerald eyes of hers that now resembled chips of ice.
“Yes, your Grace, I remembered,” she said, dropping him a curtsy before she folded her hands before her in meek submission. “Will there be anything further required this evening, your Grace?”
He came toward her and took her hands in his, and Emily forced them to remain limp and unresponsive.
“Remove those things at once,” he ordered, his voice harsh. “You may have remembered your past, Emily, but I beg you also to remember your present. You are the Duchess of Wrotherham!”
“As you wish, sir,” she said, bobbing a curtsy before she took off the apron and unpinned her cap. “Of course it must be an object with me to please you, sir. And perhaps you would like me to continue to undress?”
The duke’s mouth was bracketed with hard white lines, and his eyes were blazing. “Stop it!” he demanded, putting his hands on her arms and shaking her a little. “What nonsense is this? You are my wife.”
“Yes, your Grace, I am, but not through any wish of my own, as you very well know.”
“But you will have to admit we have been happy, if you are truthful. Come, Emily, do not deny you love me as much as I love you,” he said, trying to draw her closer. Emily twisted away and he released her.
“Yes, I love you, more to my shame,” she said bitterly. “And it is obvious that you yourself are ashamed of me. Why else did you hurry me down to the country unless it was to keep me out of sight? Why have you never introduced me to your family, your friends?”
Charles’ face paled a little, but he said in a steady voice, “But we were on our honeymoon, love. One does not invite the world at such a time.”
“Our honeymoon? A little after the fact, your Grace, wouldn’t you say?”
Suddenly the sarcasm left her voice and she said in her normal tone, “How could you, Charles? How could you take advantage of me when I could not remember? You knew I was determined not to marry you and bring this shame on you, but you ignored that fact while you gratified your own code. Oh, you knew what a disastrous match you made, but you did not care. Having determined to marry me, you could not bear to be thwarted, could you? Even to the point of taking an unwilling bride, if she had been able to know she was unwilling. But that did not matter to you in the least, as long as you got your own way and satisfied your ridiculous gentleman’s code of honor. I shall never forgive you for that, Charles, never!”
“Emily! Come, my dear, you are distraught, not thinking. Of course I had to marry you when I found out you were with child, but you know I was determined to do so long before I learned of that happy event. I told you in Belgium you would be duchess here.”
“I think you have been very foolish, your Grace,” Emily retorted, her green eyes almost as dark with her feelings as his own. Before she thought, her anger made her add, “For how can you be sure the child is yours, indeed? There were several weeks between the time I ran away and you found me again.”
The duke raised his hand and slapped her. It was not a bruising blow, but it whipped her head back and tears came unbidden to her eyes.
“How dare you, madam?” he asked, his voice taut with rage. “How dare you speak to me that way? I know the child is mine.”
“We must certainly hope he has black hair and eyes in that case, your Grace,” Emily retorted. “But maids, you know, even the best of them, have uncertain morals. They are not like your exalted self and other members of the ton.”
Suddenly Charles dropped his hands and walked away from her, going a little blindly to lean against the mantel. Emily stared at his broad back, her breath coming in little gasps as she dashed away the tears with the back of one unsteady hand. For a moment there was a heavy silence before the duke straightened up to turn and face her, his eyes bleak and cold.
Emily took a deep breath and clenched her hands in the folds of her skirt as Charles said, “Your pardon, wife.” His voice was so rigid with anger that she cringed. “It was unforgivable of me to strike you, especially in your condition. But may I say I do not believe you? You are not like other women who may cuckold their husbands, although even they would not dare with the first child. No, no—not the lady who was Emily Wyndham, with her exquisite sensibilities and stern moral code.”
The bow that accompanied this compliment was ironic. Emily never took her eyes from him, for his expression was so forbidding that he looked as if his face had been carved from marble.
“I would remind you again, madam, of something you said only this afternoon. You told me then that you did not care what anyone thinks of us and that what the Duke and Duchess of Wrotherham consider correct matters more than a single one of the world’s opinions. I take it you no longer subscribe to that viewpoint?”
Emily wished he would speak to her in his normal tone of voice, instead of with this frozen sneer, and the hurt and anguish she was experiencing made her say, “It is impossible for me to do so. Now that I remember my past, how can I think your behavior proper? Or my own either?”
“I see. In that case I must ask you what your wishes are. Know that I will never permit our marriage to be dissolved, but if my behavior in wedding you without your consent has given you a disgust of me, I shall be happy to relieve you of my attentions. In fact, you have only to tell me and I shall be gone from Wrotherham Park tomorrow.”
“There is no need for that, your Grace,” Emily replied, somewhat startled by this turn of events. “This is your home, I would not turn you out of it. Give me leave to go instead.”
The duke’s mouth twisted wryly. “Unfortunately, that is not possible, for it is also your home now, madam, whether you like it or not. No, I would be very distressed if my son was not born here on his own land. You will remain in residence, but you have my word I will not trouble you again. In other words, Duchess, we will have a marriage of convenience. In public, all will be as before, but in private...” He stopped and laughed, an angry bark that had no humor in it. “What am I thinking of? Of course there will be no ‘private,’ not until you yourself will it.”
Emily involuntarily raised her hand, but the duke had turned away again and did not see the little gesture.
“You need not fear that I shall attempt to coerce you or influence you in any way,” he said, and then he whirled and pointed one stern finger at her. “Yes, perhaps I was wrong to do what I did, but there was no certainty that you would ever remember your past, and there was our love for each other and our child to consider. However, know you will never be bothered by my unwanted attentions. I daresay we shall grow accustomed. But even so, you must pray the child will be a son so you will never be forced to lie with me again. In this, I expect you to do your duty. I will have my heir; on that I must insist, madam.”
He glared at her, his brows knit in a ferocious frown, and Emily saw that he meant every word of it, and she wondered how a man so much in love only a short time ago could say such cold, wounding things. She knew her husband was a proud man, and tonight she had struck out at his pride and damaged his image of himself; she saw clearly that he would remain aloof from her forever if she did not relent. She swallowed as he continued, “You have only to ask my steward for anything you need, if I should happen to be absent. Perhaps there is someone you would like to have stay with you and bear you company? Invite whomever you like. I shall arrange for the doctor to make regular visits, and I shall of course instruct my lawyers to put any sum of money you require at your disposal.”
For a moment he paused, his black eyes intent on her face as Emily bowed her head, lowering her eyelids slightly so he could not see the tears that came unbidden to them. Dear God, how was she to live like this? Left alone in this massive house with only the servants, and five long months to go until her confine
ment? Or what was even worse, sharing it with Charles in a travesty of connubial contentment for the servants’ sakes. Why couldn’t he let her go? She knew the Misses Rutherford would take her in, and it would be so much easier for her there. But then she realized that this was to be her punishment, if that was the correct word for the situation. She might not have wanted to be duchess here, but now that was an accomplished fact, the duke expected her to grace her position with composure and dignity, no matter how lonely and miserable she felt. She had forced them both to this; she must accept the consequences. Almost, she wished she had never confronted him at all.
“Nothing to say, madam?” he asked in the lengthening silence. “How unusual! In that case, and having concluded our business, I give you leave to retire.”
He bowed, and Emily turned away, hurrying to the door of her room, which she could barely see through the tears that now ran unchecked down her cheeks. As she reached the door and grasped the handle, he spoke again in a low voice, husky with emotion.
“Take very good care of yourself, my dear. You and our child will be always in my thoughts. And remember, you have only to send me word to command my instant attendance. I will, of course, be praying that you will forgive me and end this charade soon.”
With her throat thickened with the sobs she was restraining, she could not answer, but she nodded as she passed through into her own room and closed the door behind her.
She had not thought she would be able to sleep, but when she had undressed and climbed into the huge bed, she was so exhausted that she sank into oblivion almost at once, only to toss and turn even as she had done during her worst nightmares.
When she woke to a dark morning, she could hear the rain beating against the panes, and after ringing for her maid, she wandered over to the window to stare down at the gravel drive below her. The beautiful October day they had enjoyed only yesterday was gone as if it had never been, for in one night autumn had disappeared and winter was upon them. She looked at the weeping sky that muted the fall colors as if they were covered by a filmy gray veil. A sudden gust of wind shook the elm trees, and several leaves fell like large tears to the earth. She leaned her forehead against the cold pane, wishing she could weep too. “Charles,” she whispered, “Charles.”
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