“Normally Julia would not consider it seemly for a bride and groom to sleep under the same roof until they are wed and would have taken you to her home at Richmond to stay, but Dunstan House is closer to the shops and, as things stand between us, it hardly matters anyway. Tomorrow it is her intention to take you shopping for a new wardrobe. She knows the most fashionable shops to visit and all the best dressmakers, who will measure and fit you for an extensive trousseau.”
“That is extremely generous of you.”
“Generosity doesn’t come into it. As Lady Dunstan it is important that you dress accordingly. I shall also expect you to behave as befits your new status. In short, there will be no scandals—nothing to bring shame and disgrace to the name you will bear. Is that understood?”
“Yes, of course.” She felt colour flood her cheeks. “What have you told your sister?” she asked, fully prepared to be met with abject disapproval and hostility when she came face to face with Julia. “She—she knows about the child?”
“Naturally. It is hardly the kind of thing that can be concealed.”
“What was her reaction? Was—was she terribly shocked?” Louisa asked tentatively.
“At first—which was to be expected. But her relief on being told I was to marry again outweighed the shock and any objections she felt on learning of your condition. Ever since my first wife died she has been forever telling me it is high time I looked for someone else.”
“Then I can only hope that she approves of me,” whispered Louisa.
Instinctively Alistair knew there would be instant rapport between them when they met, and he was to be proved right.
“If it makes you feel any easier—despite what I told you yesterday when I visited your home about there being no secrets between Julia and myself—I did not tell her of the circumstances that brought us together, which are known only to ourselves, your brother and his friend Timothy Hacket. I would like to keep it that way. I am sure you will agree that it is a matter that needs delicate handling.”
“Of course.”
“I doubt Julia would approve of such conduct in the future Lady Dunstan. I also dread to imagine what effect it would have on Sophie should she come to learn of it. It is hardly the kind of example a brother should set for a sister of such tender years. I am not proud of the way I behaved, and I have no wish for my indiscretion to be exposed to either of my sisters.”
The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable and Louisa saw mockery in his eyes when she glanced at him and was wounded by it—more so because of her own guilt in the affair. Until that moment she wouldn’t have believed she could feel more ashamed than she already did.
“I understand,” she replied quietly.
Alistair watched the tension and emotion play across her lovely, expressive face, and for the life of him he could not think why he was being so hard on her, why he was finding it so difficult to put her at her ease, but then, remembering all their previous encounters, she always had robbed him of the ability to think rationally.
“I have told Julia that we met at the Spring Gardens at Vauxhall some time ago—which is no lie even though we were not introduced at the time—and that we became better acquainted after that.”
“I see. At least I shall know what to say to her should she ask me—and I must thank you for sparing further damage being done to my already lacerated pride. Had you told her the sordid details, then my humiliation would have been complete.” Drawing a long, shaky breath, Louisa clasped her hands in front of her and met Alistair’s hard gaze, determined to call for a truce.
“Must you make everything so difficult, Alistair? Must there be enmity between us?” she asked quietly, cautiously. Encouraged by his lack of argument, she continued. “I realise how difficult—how inconvenient—marrying me is for you, but surely nothing that has happened should make us treat each other badly. There is one thing I will ask of you. Can we not at least be cordial towards each other? There is no reason why not, is there?”
Alistair wavered, unable to resist the soft appeal in those huge amber eyes of hers. He sighed, his expression becoming more relaxed as he capitulated a little. “No. None that I can see. And you are right. We must both try to make the best of things.”
Louisa had to suppress the urge to utter a deep sigh of relief, for at that moment the door opened to admit a tall, attractive woman, whom she already knew to be Alistair’s sister, recognising her after seeing her in St James’s Park—that unfortunate day when she had been with Sir Charles Meredith, whose presence had prevented introductions being made between them at that time.
Chapter Nine
Julia was dressed in her favourite shade of willow-green, her dark hair dressed neatly and shining softly in the candles’ glow. Having recovered from the shock Alistair’s news of his forthcoming marriage had caused her, and despite the fact that the lady he had chosen to be his wife had no dowry—although he had guaranteed her suitability, her deceased father having been a gentleman of some repute, if somewhat impoverished—and that she was in an extremely delicate condition, she was prepared to overlook these unfortunate facts in her delight that her brother had decided to settle down at last.
It would be a mistake to say that at first she had not had her doubts, feeling that a marriage based on such a beginning was a prelude to disaster, a disaster Alistair could well do without after his turbulent marriage to Marianne. She had even questioned him about the paternity of the child, asking him if he was absolutely certain that he was the father. He had assured that her he was and that he would take full responsibility. But he was not happy. She could see that. However, the situation was of his own making, and if the child was indeed his then he was under an obligation to marry Louisa Fraser. Whatever the circumstances were that had brought Alistair and Louisa together were between themselves. She would not interfere.
But secretly her hopes, which had become subdued since his unhappy marriage to Marianne had ended so tragically, had soared when he had told her. Since that time he had showed no genuine fascination for any one woman, and she had begun to despair that he ever would.
A spark of interest showed in Julia’s eyes as they immediately rested on Louisa, who stood watching her, pale with apprehension. She smiled, in an effort to put her at her ease, moving across the room with poise and a slow grace, her eyes tender, for she was determined to befriend this beautiful young woman who had brought her brother once again to the brink of matrimony.
Alistair introduced them, thankful that Julia had been so overcome with shock on being confronted by Charles Meredith in St James’s Park all those weeks ago, that she had failed to notice that Louisa had been his companion, which might have created an uneasy beginning to their friendship.
Julia took Louisa’s hand and pulled her down onto the sofa, her serene blue gaze resting on her softly. All her doubts about Louisa making Alistair a suitable wife dissolved when she saw her. She felt an instant liking for this rather quiet, unhappy young woman and drawn to her in a way that surprised her.
She was more lovely than Alistair had described, despite the fact that her classically beautiful face was taut with anxiety and uncertainty. She had a lost, almost desperate appeal in her eyes, and was no doubt feeling demoralised by her condition, but as their gazes met she felt a surge of confidence, suddenly conscious that beneath the pleasant exterior of this woman, with her soft feminine elegance, was a will every bit as strong and stubborn as Alistair’s.
“I am delighted to welcome you into the family, Louisa, and look forward to getting to know you better.”
“Thank you,” Louisa replied, a little shyly, seeing she need not have worried about meeting Julia, and finding her kindness comforting after Alistair’s coldness. She was so gently solicitous that she found herself warming towards her. Fighting desperately to ignore her throbbing headache, which simply refused to go away, she managed a pale smile. “You are very kind.”
“And you are extremely lovely, my dear.” Julia’s eye
s twinkled. “Now I begin to understand how impossible it was for Alistair to resist you.”
Louisa flushed, embarrassed by her words, and a dark scowl of disapproval appeared on Alistair’s face at his sister’s outspokenness, but Julia laughed lightly, well used to her brother’s occasional dark moods and disapproving looks and knowing how to temper them. She was not in the least sorry that her words might have caused either of them to feel a sense of awkwardness.
“Alistair has told me the reason why you have to marry with such haste, Louisa,” she said on a more serious, gentle note, with just a trace of reproof in her tone, “which is unfortunate—and I have to say that I cannot countenance such behaviour. Time presses, however, and it is not for me to sit in judgement or to interfere in something which is entirely between your two selves. That is your affair. I am just very relieved that you have both seen the error of what you have done and decided to do the honourable thing. You have an obligation to the child to marry—but I do hope you also feel deeply enough about each other to marry in these circumstances.”
Alistair’s gaze met Louisa’s, but she could read nothing in it. Julia’s quiet, imperious tone would have been enough to daunt even the strongest heart—and Alistair was no exception, although not the type of man to be easily intimidated by a woman, and had it been said by anyone else he would have launched a bitter attack. But this was his older sister, whom he loved and respected, and he took her gentle reproach lightly, prepared to be tolerant, and Louisa suspected that Julia would not overstep the mark by antagonising her brother.
“Is the sermon over, Julia?” Alistair asked tersely.
A smile lit up her whole face and she laughed easily. “Yes. No questions, I promise. It only leaves me to wish you both every happiness. Alistair tells me he is to take you to Huntswood immediately after the wedding, Louisa. Is that not so, Alistair?” she said, looking once more at her brother, her seriousness of a moment before having disappeared.
“That is my intention. When news of the marriage gets out it is bound to create a stir. It is my wish to avoid the inevitable curiosity and questions. Besides, I am anxious to introduce Louisa to Mark and Sophie. The sooner they become acquainted the better.”
“I agree. You will like Huntswood, Louisa,” Julia said. “It’s a lovely old house and Mark, who is six years old, is adorable. As for Sophie,” she said on a deep sigh, her brow creasing in a slight frown, “she is a high-spirited sixteen-year-old girl, who is becoming increasingly wilful the older she gets. Unfortunately I cannot spend as much time with her as I would like to, and Alistair cannot see why I worry about her—which is so typical of a man when he has other matters he considers are far more important to worry about than a headstrong younger sister.”
Her lips broke into a sudden smile as she looked at Louisa. “But who knows, being more her age you might understand her better than I do, Louisa—and it will do her good to have another woman in the house she can converse with. Now come along. Let’s go and eat. It’s been a long day—and I don’t know about you but I am ravenous.”
How Louisa wished she could feel the same. Throughout the meal Alistair was silent, with an ironic set to his mouth, prepared to let his sister do most of the talking, which she did with relish, regaling Louisa on all she could expect to find at Huntswood. Louisa tried to concentrate, to listen with politeness and enthusiasm, but it was no good. She was so very tired and her head still ached abominably. All through the meal the struggle went on within her. She ate half-heartedly, nibbling at her food, not in the least hungry, and wanting more than anything for the meal to end so that she could escape to her room.
Seated across from her, Alistair was studying her pale and strained features, noticing the absent way she toyed with her food. He regarded her anxiously, concerned by the quietness of her tone when she spoke.
Louisa shifted in her chair, becoming uncomfortable under his scrutiny, casting her eyes down at her plate, until she promptly demonstrated all her pent-up misery and tension by putting a hand to her head as a wave of dizziness swept over her and she broke out in a cold sweat. Letting the spoon fall from her fingers, it clattered loudly onto her plate. Immediately Julia’s eyes were full of concern and she placed her napkin on the table and rose, but before she could reach her Louisa gasped and asked them to excuse her, quickly springing from her chair and running from the room.
Feeling her heart labouring in her breast, in a sick muddle of distress, Louisa could see the stairs ahead of her through a fuzzy arc across her vision. They suddenly seemed a long way off and she stared at them in the dimness, nausea overwhelming her as her vision wavered. She knew she ought to try to cross to them, but her body had lost the ability, and her mind could not summon the will. Her legs were suddenly heavy, so heavy she could not move them, and she sank down to her knees before falling forwards onto the cold tiles of the hall.
Although Julia, who had anxiously followed her, was quick to spring towards her, Alistair was there first, scooping her up into his arms.
“Poor child. This is all too much for her. What must she be going through?” said Julia, in alarm, coming to stand beside him.
“Have one of the servants fetch Dr Sheridan,” Alistair ordered. “I’ll carry her to her room.”
Surfacing out of the swirling darkness that had briefly claimed her senses, Louisa half opened her eyes when she found herself being placed on something soft. In the gathering darkness she saw a shadowy figure above her, recognising Alistair, his features harshly etched, and she stared up at him desperately. She could hardly see him for the dizzy blackness that swam before her eyes. She struggled to rise but an awful feeling of sickness and Alistair’s hands placed firmly on her shoulders made her sink back, breathing deeply, onto the bed.
Alistair looked down at her, taking a deep breath, relief and emotion spinning around him when she opened her eyes, but he saw in them an expression of silent pain. Her face was like wax, her eyes enormous, and the look in them was so touching that he felt a surge of deep compassion. Suddenly tears welled behind her eyes, treacherously threatening to burst and pour down her cheeks. He saw them shining, and sighed.
“That bad, eh?”
Biting her trembling lip, she nodded and turned her face away.
“It’s all right,” he murmured softly. “Everything is all right. Don’t try to talk.”
He spoke more easily than he’d spoken to her in a long time, causing instant warmth to spring up inside her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I feel so dreadfully ill. I can’t think what is the matter with me.”
Gently touching her chin with his fingers, Alistair turned her face towards him. “Can’t you?” he murmured, with a lazy, tender smile that surprised her and made her senses leap, and made her think he was behaving like a concerned and devoted husband. But a bitter pain twisted her heart and she reproached herself for being a fool, telling herself that she should know better, that his tenderness was feigned.
“I think we both know it is a small matter of the child. You told me you weren’t feeling well earlier.”
“That’s true. But today I feel far worse than I have before.”
“I believe that can be put down to nerves and the stress of the journey to London. You’ve been through a lot recently. You need rest,” he said softly, smiling, kindly and concerned. “Just lie there. The doctor will not be long in coming.”
Having sent one of the servants for the doctor, Julia entered, busying herself with bathing Louisa’s face with eau-de-Cologne. Louisa smiled up at her gratefully.
“Thank you.”
The doctor when he came, after an examination at which only Julia was present, confirmed her pregnancy and that her sickness was due to it, reassuring her that it was not serious and that it would pass. After making her drink some kind of cordial, a short while later the sickness left her and colour began returning to her cheeks.
Julia left to show the doctor out and Alistair returned to the room. His eyes were drawn to Lo
uisa as if by a magnet. His heart beat faster. He could see the fluent shape of her body beneath the bedclothes in relaxed perfection, one leg drawn up a little higher than the other. He suddenly found himself wishing he could pull the covers back and climb in with her, for the memories of their night together lingered—a remembrance of sensations.
In silence Louisa watched him approach the bed. His presence sparked a pleasure inside her so sharp she felt bruised by it. She tried not to dwell on the memory of being in this house with him before, where she was still able to hear his whispers of endearment, to feel the surge of pleasure when he had touched her, made love to her, the remembrance of it making her want to weep. She hoped he would never realise that the hunger she still felt was so intense it continued to haunt her and make her think of it every time she looked at him.
That was when she realised she could not live without him and that she was glad she was marrying him, even though he did not want her to be his wife in the true sense. From the very first he had laid a spell on her and nothing would ever be the same again. Unconsciously she had come to love him on the night they had spent together, and above all else she wanted him to know that the child inside her had grown from that love.
Alistair stood looking down at her with an odd, contemplative look, feeling a strange urge to protect. She seemed so childlike, and pure as Sophie. A forelock of blonde hair had fallen to her eyebrows, and, still holding her eyes, instinctively he reached out and slowly swept it back, gently tucking it behind her ear.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Better, thank you. Just tired, that’s all,” she said listlessly.
“Then I’ll disturb you no longer and leave you in my sister’s capable hands,” he said softly. “Goodnight, Louisa.”
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