His friend jerked William's wrist into the air, counting aloud with his timepiece. Then he pried one of William's eyes open. "Belladonna? Come; help me get him to walk. I think someone's poisoned him with belladonna."
Gaia pulled on one of William's arms as Mr. Stelford grabbed the other. "Belladonna?"
"A wicked brew." Aunt fanned herself, and her voice strengthened. "Some ladies use it to make their eyes bright. Don't you ever go near it."
Stelford propped William up then pulled him to stand, and began walking him back and forth. "In large doses, it can be coercive or deadly. I think you found him in time. Get some milk and mustard. Let's see if he can throw off the toxin."
Gaia scrambled past Aunt's kicked out legs, almost tripping. Recovering, she bounced out of the drawing room and sent a servant off to the kitchen. Standing at the door, she held in her tears and pulled the shawl tighter about her.
The servant returned with a tart, smelly mixture, and she dashed back inside the drawing room. "Here, Mr. Stelford."
Holding William against the yellow wall, he poured the contents down his throat. "That should take hold in a second."
A gasp left her lips before she could stop it. "Someone has tried to kill him?"
William lunged forward onto all fours, and buried his head in a basket. Surely, the contents of the Thames flowed out of him. "No one's tried anything. I... mixed up the tinctures in my drink."
"Oh." Gaia moved close to him and smoothed his back as his face went into the basket again.
His friend's countenance squished up, as if he'd been stung. "But you don't—"
"Stelford, help me up!" his voice sounded like a command, not a plea. Even sick, William had a daunting presence.
A wailing sound, a child's cries, came from an upper level.
"Gaia, Mrs. Monlin, could you go see about Lady Mary? Stelford, walk me 'til my wits return."
Torn between wanting to stay and helping the girl, she remained paralyzed.
William waved at her to leave. "Please go to Mary; I need you to see after her."
She nodded and left the room. Aunt Tabby lumbered behind, adjusting her cream-colored turban. Lying against the other side of the door, Gaia let her eyes be leaky, and released the horrible feeling of loss from her weak shoulders. It was terrible to discover how much William meant to her when she when she thought he’d died. "God, thank You for preserving him."
Gripping Aunt's hand, Gaia headed for the stairs. She wouldn't be comforted until she felt his arms about her.
William filled his lungs. Heaving so much fluid from his guts hurt his pride. How could he have trusted Deborah?
Stelford walked him at least a hundred circles on the paisley rug, stopping only to locate the nearest container.
Ripping a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, William wiped his mouth. "You'd think that nothing else could flow out of me."
"Tinctures? Say what really happened. You're not the liar in our friendship." Stelford eased him into a chair.
Laying his cheek on the cold top of the writing desk, William closed his eyes. "That horrible chit of a cousin. Deborah tried to drug me then make it look as if I forced myself upon her. What would make her so desperate?"
"How crude of Deborah. She could've killed you. Obviously, she's no expert with belladonna. Lizzy knew how much to use. But why not tell your fiancée about your cousin's scheme?
Opening his lids, he sat up straight and checked to see if the world still spun. It did. He sank back against the stiles of the chair. "I'd have to tell her the whole sordid story. Another blackmailer's letter came."
Stelford started to pace, his boots scuffing the rug. "But it had stopped again."
"Nosy Deborah thought she could use the hideous threats and concern over Mary's future to convince me to marry her."
Stelford's head whipped back in William's direction. "And, as added measure, to use the coercive belladonna to make you think you proposed. What a horrible thing to do to a single man!"
"Lucky for me, I was already engaged." Gaia, sweet lovely Gaia saved him.
What was it she whispered over him when he came to his senses before she mentioned his rival? Something about not leaving him, before she mentioned Whimple.
He let the cold, green haze of jealousy fade, and allowed a warm feeling to heat his soul. It wasn't nausea, though he had plenty to spare. He was blessed. Gaia truly cared for him. Maybe God did remember him. He rubbed his temples. "I think Deborah realized that no one would believe her, or that she'd killed me, and ran off."
Heading for the sideboard, Stelford picked up the nearly- empty decanter and put it near his mouth. "So what are you going to do? Should I get a constable?"
With a shake of his head, William tried to indicate no, but his brainbox seemed to bang against the sides of his skull. "This was the act of a desperate woman, her last grand play. She'll be too ashamed to show her face. If we get the law involved, the constable will uncover everything, not just Deborah's foolishness. Elizabeth and her lover will be made public. A bad prank is not enough to have my family run through the mud."
"Your eyes. They looked like Elizabeth's the night she fell."
"You're not suggesting Deborah had anything to do with that?" He wanted to tighten his fingers into a fist, but it hurt too bad to tense his muscles.
Stelford's gaze floated to the right, as if he remembered something. "No, she wasn't near the place the night of the accident."
"Stelford, how do you know?" William's brow rose. Could Deborah be murderous? The woman had never liked Elizabeth. "She could have slipped in and out before you got there."
"I'm one hundred percent positive, but Elizabeth might have used too much, and lost her footing because of it."
His friend sighed, as if a weight lifted from his chest.
"You and Elizabeth were dear friends. I guess it's good to have a potential explanation, but it doesn't quite make up for the loss."
Stelford mumbled something under his breath, but a wail from above smothered it. Then all went silent.
The women must've gotten Mary to settle, but once the child had a fright, she'd be up the rest of the night. His stomach rolled again, but a few deep breaths kept inside what little remained of yesterday's dinner. Today's meals had surely exited him. Wretched cousin.
If the scandal of Elizabeth's infidelity broke, Gaia's lack of connections wouldn't help. Society wouldn't be thrilled with his marriage to begin with, so Gaia couldn't help Mary navigate the Ton. Probably make things worse. No, things must remain quiet.
The doors burst open, and Miss Hallow and an older man with a black case marched inside.
"Stelford, help me to my chamber so the doctor can give me a stamp of good health." Before they left the room, he pivoted and glanced at Miss Hallow. "Tell Miss Telfair I'm well. Thank her for caring for the baby."
The little girl finally settled down. Gaia placed the thin pink blanket on the child.
Mary closed her watery green-blue eyes, even as she rolled her head to the door.
"Looking for your papa?" Maybe she sensed he was in trouble.
One thing was certain… Mary had a voice. No one with that much lung capacity would ever be silent. The cries were so bad Aunt had to be settled into a room. She claimed her turbaned head would surely explode.
What had stunted Mary's development so she couldn't form words?
Sighing, Gaia moved to the rocking chair and forced her back against the column-cut stiles. She needed the rigid support. Her hands still held a small tremble. Thinking William had died hurt her more than she thought possible. How dull and invisible her life would be if God hadn't sent him to her special spot in the woods.
Perhaps the answer to why he mixed up tincture lay in the creased letter in her pocket. Maybe the shock of the duchess's unfaithfulness made him careless with his drink.
As if her fingers would burn if she held it directly, she lowered it by the corners onto the trunk under the window.
Using her pinkie, s
he unfolded the creased paper.
"What are you doing?" Seren walked into the room.
Gaia's heart stopped, as if she'd been caught doing something naughty. She put a hand to her chest. "I found this letter under the duke. I think it will tell me what the true problem is."
Stepping closer, Seren stood by the rocking chair. "Then you should open it."
Her best friend always knew what to say to get her into more trouble. One day Gaia would learn to do the opposite, but not today. She lifted the cream-colored letter and flattened it onto her lap.
Her quick read in the parlor had caught the word adultery. Hopefully, Gaia had misread something.
With her instigator looking over her shoulder, she scanned the expensive paper.
Seren plopped onto the floor. Her blush-stained cheeks matched the puce-colored rug.
Gaia blinked a few times as the words adultery and expose illuminated in the blood-red ink, as if the candlelight had set it aflame. A hundred different thoughts flooded her brain. Those passionate letters she’d found the other day… after such heartfelt words between man and wife, why would someone fall out of love and break their vows? Was it the same thing that caused her mother to be vulnerable? William and Gaia had a lot more in common when it came to scandals.
And why would someone want a thousand pounds to remain silent?
Poor William. No wonder he mixed his tinctures. This news chilled the marrow in her bones.
Seren flopped onto the trunk in a very unladylike heap. "Does that mean Lady Mary is not..."
At the Masked Ball, didn't he ask how she knew when she commented about how he took care of the girl even though she wasn't his? Gaia had meant Elliot taking care of his niece, not William and Mary. Could the little girl the duke loved so much not be his blood?
She reached for her friend's hand. "She's his daughter. I've never seen a father love a child more. Don't let those words ever leave your lips. Promise me."
"Yes; I'm not one for gossip."
Gaia lifted a skeptical brow at her friend, the blabbermouth. "I mean it, Seren. Don't hurt people I care about."
"I won't." Seren slumped, her perfect posture curving against the trunk. "This puts Cheshire in such a sympathetic light."
Oh, William; bearing such horrible news, and no one to share the burden. He had problems, too. How could she be such a bacon-brain?
Maybe he talked with Stelford. Still, her soul ached for William. Is that why he was trying so hard to please Gaia; to keep her from straying? From what, their friendship?
The gifts, the unending attention… maybe he wanted her love. That sent a fright in her bones. Again, she realized how much she'd miss William if they did not marry.
The pound of boot treads broke the silence. William stood at the threshold. His gaze seemed locked on the paper in her hand.
Gaia's heart broke at the hurt etched on his face. Could he forgive this breach of privacy? And could he now, finally, talk to her about his first marriage, as true friends, true mates would?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Nursery
FURY IGNITED IN William's heart. No one was to know his shame, and now the young ladies did. He wobbled closer as his stomach rumbled and warned of another violent exodus. His attention stayed fixed on the blackmailer's note.
The paper fell from Gaia's hands. The scowls on their faces spoke volumes. They knew, and now pitied him. A wave of heat fled his nostrils. "Miss Hallow, can you please excuse us?"
The young lady looked toward his fiancée. Popping out of the rocker, Gaia came to him. "Serendip, go retrieve a cut of foolscap, or stationery, and check on my aunt; we'll need to stay the night to make sure all is well here."
Miss Hallow curtsied then sprinted from the room.
Gaia stood in front of him, silent, her lips threading to a line, everything he feared expressed on her face. She had to think less of him, a man letting his wife humiliate him. What did Gaia think of Mary? His stomach turned.
His hand fisted. Good, no breakables were near. He'd left Cheshire to avoid shame, and now it was all around him in his beloved Devonshire, enveloping Gaia.
She tugged on his lapels and pulled him near, then nudged him into the rocker. Her hand went to his cheek, mothering him, extinguishing the flame in his chest. "You're warm. You should go to bed. Seren and I will make sure Mary sleeps."
He bent over and scooped up the letter. "So you know."
"Yes," her voice sounded nonchalant, as if being blackmailed over your wife's infidelity was a normal happenstance. She plucked at his cravat. "William, you shouldn't force yourself to stay up. You need to rest."
Clasping her hand, he pried her from his rumpled neck cloth. "Stop."
His voice must've sounded louder than he’d intended.
She stilled but didn't shrink away. Her hazel eyes widened behind her spectacles. With a turn of her countenance, she looked at Mary. "She's still asleep. We'll need to keep our voices low."
"I'm sorry. I've conquered most of my temper. The last time I talked to God about it, I asked him to remove it. As with most of my prayers, I received only a partial answer. Some foulness remains."
Gaia's countenance seemed serene as her bright eyes scanned him. The blue fabric pleating at her bodice hung well on her curvy frame. Her hands were again at his neck, loosening his cravat. His mind turned from shame to the feel of her fingers against his skin.
Her tone fell to a whisper. "I'm listening."
He closed his eyes and gave into the kneading of her thumbs, the needing of Gaia's calm strength. "I prayed for Elizabeth's heart to be filled with love. Must've forgotten the part of it being for me." A few bitter chuckles left his mouth.
"You hide in jokes. You don't need to with me." Her digits found their way to his temples, stroking and cajoling him.
He swept his gaze over her, but her smooth countenance gave away nothing. What was her opinion of him, of this sorry situation? "Tell me your thoughts, my forthright Gaia."
Her voice was soft. "When did the marriage sour?"
He caught one of her palms and looked to the ceiling, mentally tracing the plaster arches framing Mary's bedchamber. How to admit the blackest time in his life, with Gaia leaning on him, making him hope their future would be different? "When I met her, I thought Elizabeth was the prettiest woman I'd ever seen."
He slammed his head back on the chair and started it rocking. Memories of his late wife's smiles, their fast courtship, rushed over him, as did a chill to his soul. "Her beauty was only on the surface. She hated me. After Mary's birth, she wanted nothing of me."
"William, I know how it hurts to have your feelings rebuffed. My innards ached in ways I never knew they could when Elliot became engaged to my cousin. I'm so sorry." She knelt at his side. Her arms drew about his neck.
He dropped the foul paper and leaned his forehead against hers. His palms glided about her waist. This close to Gaia, he could tell her anything. "Elizabeth resented Mary. I think she wanted a boy, so her marital duties would be fulfilled. The woman wouldn't pick her up. Let wet-nurses care for her all the time. That's why I think she's mine." Another galling chortle left his lips. "But, then, she could be some lover's Elizabeth broke with."
Her hold tightened about him. "Mary is yours, all yours. She's a gift God gave you. Don't ever forget that. I'm a gift too. I have to remember that."
Any anger William felt over Gaia reading the note dissipated. There was something good about confiding in her. This simple gesture of embracing him, caring for him, outweighed his embarrassment. "You are a gift to me."
She leaned back and caught his gaze. "Do you have any idea who would write such notes?"
"Elizabeth and I released so many thoughtless maids and servants. Anyone could've seen something and wanted to take revenge for their firing. I let some go here. I can't tolerate any person treating Mary indifferently."
She kissed his cheek. "Now go lie down. The doctor, if he's worth his salt, will want you to sleep."
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"Rest, huh?" Gaia was so beautiful, tending to Mary and now him.
Her cheeks flushed. He must've gazed upon her too long. Righting his waistcoat, he slogged to his feet and saluted. "I will follow your orders, ma'am."
Taking her hand, he held it against his chest. "I do like where you lead."
"Then go and wash behind your ears. And don't forget to say your prayers."
Maybe he would pray. Who but God would give him such a friend? This time he'd be specific. Peace and faithfulness in this marriage to Gaia. Chin up, he left the room.
Gaia sampled an easier breath. She'd never seen William angry. He'd been understanding, funny with a ready joke leaving his lips, maybe caught wanting to kiss her, but not seething.
The wringing of his hands frightened her for a moment; until she remembered this was her friend, and he'd never hurt her. Was that the icy temper that Albert feared? She settled back into her rocker and released another sigh.
He had a right to be upset. She and Seren shouldn't have snooped. But at least Gaia knew and could now understand the depth of his pain.
Ten minutes later, Serendip poked her head in the room and shook two sheets of stationery like a flag. The blue tint of the paper reeked of expense... and familiarity. "All is well in here?"
Gaia waved her inside. "Yes, silly, come on in, but do be quiet. Lady Mary is sleeping. Remember how hard it was to get her to settle."
The little one turned over. A foot kicked out of the thin bedclothes.
Fanning herself with luminous blue paper in one hand, Seren carried a writing set in the other. She swept into the room. "Mr. Stelford has a groom waiting to take the messages to our abodes. He's quite an interesting man."
Gaia took the ink and the blotter and placed them on the floor near the trunk. "Aunt might rouse and catch you flirting. You'll be in for a lecture." But one on how to do it better.
Seren cocked an eye and made a flourish with the paper, as if she were a senorita ready for a dance. "Until the banns have been read, there is always a reason to be a flirt. And Mr. Stelford is quite engaging."
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