The Fall of a Saint

by Christine Merrill

  ‘Normally a settlement is in order.’

  She smiled, for to this she could answer. ‘Then you are talking to the wrong person, Richard. I have nothing to give you.’

  ‘But you are a duchess,’ he said, confused.

  ‘With not a penny in my pocket,’ she said, confident that it was the truth. ‘I used the last of my savings before the wedding. I have not had reason to ask for a thing from St Aldric since.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Unless you are willing to take ladies’ clothing, a pair of lovebirds or, perhaps, a horse. Go to the stables and tell them that I have given you Buttercup.’

  ‘I do not need a horse,’ he said firmly.

  ‘It is just as well, for I do not wish to give her up. If it is money that you are after, then you will have to talk to the duke.’

  ‘I have already spoken to him,’ Richard said with confidence. ‘And he leaves the decision to you.’

  Damn the man. If she asked, St Aldric would give any sum she named to this interloper and he would be gone. But she suspected that whatever they had shared in the past months had been ruined by the fact that Richard had come here at all. She looked at him for a moment, wondering just what it was that she had seen in him, to hang so many dreams upon. And then she said, ‘You wish my decision, Richard? Then here it is. If St Aldric thought you deserved money, you would have it already.’

  ‘You mean to side with him, despite what he did to you in Dover?’ Richard asked.

  ‘I fail to see how my giving you a settlement would change the past,’ she said as reasonably as possible. ‘And since you made it clear just now that you would trade my love for gold, I am not inclined to give you either.’

  ‘If I spoke in error,’ he said, trying to look earnest, ‘it was because I thought there was no other choice. You are more valuable to me than St Aldric’s gold. It is only because I doubt you will leave him that I make the suggestion. St Aldric does not love you. If he did, he would not permit my presence in the house.’

  Though she feared that half the words from Richard’s mouth were lies, occasionally he found the truth.

  ‘Not all marriages can be based on love,’ she said, knowing that it was true. ‘But we get on well enough together. That is more than many couples have.’

  Richard was unimpressed. ‘From what I hear from the people of this area, it should not be too difficult to get on well enough with St Aldric. I suspect it is his saintly nature that keeps him from reminding you of how oddly matched you are.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ she retorted, ‘but I notice that manners do not prevent you from mentioning it.’

  Richard gave her a tired shake of his head. ‘I merely wish you to remember what was obvious from the start. You are a governess, Maddie. And he is a duke. If not for the child you carry, he would not have looked twice at you. He would have chosen someone much more like Mrs Hastings. Someone from his social set.’

  Perhaps it was true. But even though it would have been more appropriate, he had not married Evelyn.

  Because she had turned him down.

  Very well. Her husband did not love her. And perhaps they did not suit. She might have a future that held every material possession she might want. But it seemed strangely empty when she thought of the man who would share it—always polite, always solicitous, yet never truly hers. Maybe she would have to leave him. But not until she had placed the baby safe in his arms. Without thinking, she touched her belly again. I do not want to leave you, as well, she promised silently. But we cannot always have what we want.

  Richard saw it and nodded. ‘You are right to be thinking of the child. But it will be here soon, Maddie. And then what will you do?’

  She did not know, so she could not answer.

  Richard was looking at her as he had years ago, in the way that had made her believe in him. ‘I know you do not want me here. And I know there will be no money. But I mean to stay until the baby is born. When it is come, if you wish it, I will see you safely away from here. I owe you that, at least, my dear. When you find that you can no longer bear to stay here, you need have nothing to fear. I will take care of you.’ Then he pushed his plate aside, got up from his chair and came to her, kissing her once on the forehead before leaving her alone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After the previous evening’s activities, Michael did not expect to meet Richard Colver over breakfast. But it seemed that sleeping late after too much drink was not amongst the man’s vices. When asked, Brooks relayed the information that Colver was already in the breakfast room with her Grace. Michael debated interrupting the pair of them and forcing his company upon them.

  But then he remembered his fight with Madeline on the previous evening. If he had treated his wife with the kindness she deserved, there would be nothing to interrupt. She had told him she loved him. She had done it before, of course. But he had not wanted to hear it then. It was only when he thought he might not hear it again that he realised the value of those three little words.

  She loved him. And he had refused to reciprocate.

  Even now, he was still not sure that he could go to her and say the things she wanted to hear. He had made so many wild accusations that an apology was in order. But to follow it with the announcement that, he thought, perhaps, that he loved her? Even if he could deliver it with confidence, he doubted she would believe him. She would look at him as she sometimes did when she suspected that his thoughts did not match his words.

  If nothing else, he did not wish to see Madeline in the company of Colver. Nor was he sure she’d want him under any circumstances. He would wait until after breakfast, and then he would find her and choose his words as carefully as an argument in the House of Lords. In the meantime, he would seek out his brother and get some of the familial advice that Eve thought was important. Sam knew more of love than he ever would. Surely he might be of some use on the subject.

  * * *

  When the servant showed him into the dower house, Sam was alone in the parlour. It was unusual, for he rarely saw the husband without the wife. Sam had explained that, after spending years separated from his true love, each moment with her was precious.

  He had thought the devotion an admirable thing. But today it reminded him of his own wife and her supposed soulmate secluded in the breakfast room.

  ‘Where is your wife this morning?’ Michael said, trying not to scowl. ‘After your excesses of last night, she has not run back to London without you, I trust?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Sam gave him the same knowing smile he always wore, confident that, after years of waiting, Eve would have him drunk or sober. ‘She is helping with a delivery in the village. But it is not too much longer that she will be helping at the main house. That is not why you are here, is it?’

  To this, Michael could manage nothing more than a grunt.

  ‘That is not the response I was expecting,’ Sam said. ‘You are the father-to-be. You have been badgering me with questions on the dreary details of human gestation for six months. But now that the race is almost run, you have lost interest?’

  ‘I am not without interest,’ Michael said. ‘There are other things on my mind.’

  ‘More important than the birth of your first child? Which, by my calculations, could occur at any moment?’

  As a physician, Sam was not prone to exaggeration, but Michael suspected that, in this case, he might be guilty of it. Madeline had seemed fine on the previous evening, other than the fact that she had been furious with him.

  ‘I am just as interested in the baby as I ever was,’ he said. ‘But at the moment, it is this Colver fellow that bothers me.’

  ‘Then send him away,’ Sam said with an incredulous shake of his head. ‘You needn’t be burdened with an uninvited guest at a time like this.’

  ‘Madeline’s guest,’ Michael said.

&
nbsp; ‘In your house,’ Sam reminded him.

  ‘But suppose she would rather that he stayed?’

  Sam laughed. ‘Has she told you this?’

  ‘No,’ Michael admitted.

  Sam nodded. ‘Then I assume you waited until Colver was dead drunk and we were gone, and had a terrific row about him. You said something supremely stupid to her, rather than sending him away when you had the chance. Now she is likely to cling to him out of spite to teach you the lesson you deserve.’

  ‘Well, what am I to do about it?’ Michael snapped. He did not like being read so easily.

  ‘Apologise. Swear your love for her. Tell her that she must give up Colver or you will remove him yourself. And you can give her jewellery, I suppose. But I have never found that to be necessary when arguing with Evie.’

  ‘Suppose I do not?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Do not what? Apologise? Then there is no hope for you. Whatever it was, it was likely your fault and you had best own up to it.’

  ‘Suppose I do not love her?’

  He could see by the shocked look on Sam’s face that the possibility had not occurred to him. ‘Then send the man away all the quicker. You do not want him in your house, and her feelings towards you, or him, do not matter.’

  But even if he was not in love, he was sure her feelings did matter to him. ‘When we married, I promised that she was to have her own way in all things.’

  ‘I was there,’ Sam reminded him. ‘I thought it very foolish of you.’

  ‘At the time, I was only concerned with getting her to agree to stay with me for the baby’s sake. But now if she wants to go with Colver...’

  ‘You wish to change your earlier agreement,’ Sam said.

  ‘I have grown used to her,’ he admitted cautiously.

  Sam snorted. ‘You speak as though she were a hound or a pair of well-fitting boots.’

  ‘It is more than that,’ Michael said, trying to find the right words. ‘She is pleasant company.’

  ‘In what way?’ Sam pressured. ‘Do you think she makes an adequate partner at whist? Or do you simply enjoy lying with her?’ Sam laughed again. ‘Do not look so shocked at me. You are married to her after all. If you are intimate, it is as it should be.’

  Michael was surprised. ‘Is it so obvious?’

  ‘To look at the pair of you, it is quite plain that yours has not been a marriage of convenience for some time,’ Sam said. ‘You dote on each other.’

  ‘We do?’ He tried to think of anything he might have done that would have lead to Sam’s conclusion. ‘While she is affectionate to me, it is nothing out of the bounds of propriety. I treat her with the courtesy that my wife deserves.’

  ‘And when you are together, your eyes follow each other around the room. When you think we are not watching, you find any excuse to touch hands or stand too close to each other. If I linger too long over port after dinner, you begin yawning and making comments about the need for the duchess to get her rest.’

  ‘She tires easily,’ he insisted.

  ‘She would need less sleep if you did not keep her up all night.’

  Given a choice, he’d rather she take to afternoon naps than forgo their time together. ‘You said that it was quite normal for breeding women to be affectionate,’ Michael reminded him.

  ‘Then you must be breeding, as well,’ Sam concluded. ‘I have not known you for long. But until recently, I have never seen you making calf’s eyes at a woman, or staring at the door each time she leaves the room for a moment as though you cannot wait for her return.’

  ‘I look at her no differently than I ever have,’ Michael insisted.

  ‘Not two days ago, I caught you feeding morsels to her from your plate and encouraging her to lick your fingers after each bite.’

  ‘I worry when she does not eat,’ he said, aware of how foolish it must sound.

  ‘But that does not make it necessary to feed her by hand.’ Sam shook his head. ‘I would have stopped you had it not been so terribly amusing.’

  ‘I doubt you will have source for such amusement in the future,’ he said, remembering how they had parted. ‘After the way I behaved last night, it would be safer to hand feed a tiger.’

  ‘And if there was a tiger in the garden and she required you to feed it by hand, would you do it?’

  Michael thought for a moment. ‘If it made her smile, of course I would.’

  ‘Then you have your answer as to your feelings for her,’ Sam said with a nod. ‘Now, take the advice of your personal physician. Go back to your wife and tell her of them. Nothing will cure your particular ailment of the heart but honesty in this one thing.’ And with that, Sam dismissed him.

  * * *

  Michael walked back towards the house, still confused. While the doctor’s simple instructions seemed like the right course of action, he could not help but think that there must be more to it. He had apologised to her before and could manage that without difficulty. If he remembered what Sam had said about his recent behaviour, he could announce his love for her with confidence.

  But what if he told her to give up Colver and she refused? To put the man out of the house was to break his word—but to let him stay?

  This was why he’d avoided love in the past. It led one to contemplate things that were intensely painful, like hand feeding tigers and entertaining one’s wife’s lover. Perhaps he had best go to the office and think about it for a while to find the right words. Or open the lock room and bring jewellery.

  Or do neither. Madeline was waiting at the top of the stairs. Not for him, although it almost seemed that way. She was leaning against the wall, bending forward with her hands on her knees, as though she’d lost the strength to go farther.

  He reached out to help her. ‘Are you all right? Is it the baby?’

  She looked at him strangely and shook off his offer of aid. ‘Not all my problems are caused by the baby, you know.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Did she mean that he was a problem? Or was the problem that he seemed to care more about the child than the mother? ‘I am sorry,’ he said.

  She closed her eyes and pulled herself up from the wall. ‘I am just being difficult. I was winded after climbing the stairs. As you guessed, it was because of the baby. And I stopped to rest.’

  ‘I am sorry for last night, as well,’ he said. ‘I said many things. And all of them were wrong.’

  Now that the apology had passed, she was neither angry nor satisfied. She did not seem particularly interested in it either way.

  ‘And I love you,’ he added. Then he waited for the change that would make everything all right again.

  She looked sorry for him, as though he’d tried his hardest and still could not learn the lesson she was teaching, but she said nothing in response. If this was how she’d felt when he had remained silent, he was beginning to understand the problem.

  ‘About Colver,’ he went on, meaning to get it all out at once before he lost his temper or his nerve.

  ‘He means to stay until after the baby is born,’ she said, as though something had been settled without his knowledge. ‘And I think that is probably for the best.’

  What did she mean by that? If he was not the father, what use would Colver be? But to ask those questions would mean another argument. ‘Sam said it could be very soon,’ he said instead.

  She nodded.

  ‘He says you need your rest.’ That had not been what he’d said at all. But it was probably true.

  ‘I was going to lie down,’ she agreed. ‘I am not feeling well.’

  Now that she mentioned it, she did not look well. But he did not mean to frighten her with it. ‘It will all be over soon,’ he said, hoping that it would comfort her.

  Apparently it did not, for she was giving him the searching l
ook she sometimes got when she was unsure of his meaning. Then she spoke. ‘Before I go to my room, I have a question for you. If you could live life over again...’

  It was the beginning of one of those rhetorical questions that women asked, which never seemed to end well. He braced himself for the worst.

  ‘...would you have been happier marrying Evelyn?’

  ‘Good God, no.’ He had answered too quickly and too honestly. He corrected himself. ‘She did not want me. She is in love with Sam.’

  ‘But in all other ways, she would have been a better match,’ Madeline informed him.

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘She would have been less trouble,’ Madeline insisted. ‘She knew your friends and they her. She would not have troubled you with lovebirds, or sad horses, or former lovers.’

  ‘I love her dearly,’ Michael said, embarrassed that the words came so easily when talking about someone other than his wife. ‘But only as a sister. She’d have cheated on me with my own brother before the year was out. Not to mention that her manners are abominable and she refuses to change. In our one and only dinner together, she reduced one of the guests to apoplexy. And when I kissed her, I felt nothing.’

  Madeline was smiling now. It was weak, but it was there. ‘Apoplexy?’

  He nodded. ‘You have, on occasion, attempted to try my patience, but you are not nearly as successful as Evelyn can be. And she does it without even trying.’

  The smile was gone and Madeline was looking strange again.

  Perhaps he had misspoken again by criticising her friend. ‘Would you like me to help you to your room?’ he asked, for she was leaning against the wall again.

  She shook her head again and turned down the hall of her wing with a vague wave of her hand, as though she could not be bothered with his help.

  Apparently he was not needed. He did not like the feeling of being unnecessary in his own wife’s life. ‘Perhaps I shall see you at dinner,’ he called after her. He would invite Sam and Evelyn as well, in case they were needed. Then he would go to the lock room and find some jewellery.