“Blythe Granville, belle of the Boston elite, is going to live on a budget?” he asked, recalling what Win had said about her being accustomed to a certain lifestyle.
“Since she is penniless, Blythe Slade will be glad to help her husband so that she does not have to be dependent on her brothers for every penny.” She grew serious suddenly. “In return, I’ll do my best, however I can, to be the kind of wife to help you and our business reach the next level. That help includes handling the accounting, if you like.”
The relief that swept through Will was palpable. Her willingness to live within his means was a surprise, but even though he was relieved that she wanted to take over the bookkeeping, he held back. Hadn’t she just told him that Martha was partly responsible for the mess he was in?
As if she sensed his turmoil, and knew what was behind his uncertainty, she said, “I’m not Martha, Will.”
Will reached out, took her hands and pulled her to her feet. She looked up at him, confusion on her pretty face. “Believe me, I know that.”
And then, because he was so grateful that she was willing to do whatever it took to carve out a place in his life, because she was a confusing mass of contradictions that kept him guessing how she would respond to any given situation, because she’d suffered for things that were not her fault and still maintained a quiet dignity, but mostly because he couldn’t help himself, he kissed her.
Chapter Sixteen
Blythe’s first reaction to Will’s kiss was shock, quickly followed by wonder. How could a simple kiss convey so many things? It was masterful; he was no novice. His lips were firm yet incredibly tender. Coaxing, yet at the same time she was aware of the tension, passion kept carefully on leash, so unlike Devon’s kisses that had demanded a response. Responding to Will took no effort at all. She gave a little whimper of denial and at the same time grabbed the front of his shirt to steady herself.
She knew she should stop him, pull away, but she couldn’t find the strength or the will to do so. As crazy as she knew it was, she felt so...safe in his arms, even though she also knew that to trust her feelings was not always a good thing.
Finally, Will raised his head and drew in a shaky breath, but he didn’t release her. Embarrassed and dismayed by her reaction to the kiss and unable to look him in the eye, Blythe rested her forehead against his chest. Why had he kissed her and why had she responded as she had? What must he think of her?
Quite possibly that you are a loose woman.
Was she? Anger at herself for her reckless behavior began to push aside her discomfiture. How could she have believed she’d loved a man just over three months ago and then respond to another man’s kisses with such unconstrained eagerness?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
The softly spoken apology penetrated Blythe’s self-castigation. What did he mean? That he hadn’t intended to kiss her or that he hadn’t intended for it to get so...so...
“What did happen?” she asked, finally lifting her head to look up at him. His midnight dark eyes were as troubled as her heart.
“I’m not sure.” He released her and crossed the room, his long legs eating up the space. “I think it could be a good thing.”
Oh, it could be a very good thing, she thought and immediately sought to justify her reasoning. Yes, he was a virtual stranger who was also her husband. The kiss proved they were attracted to each other. Any fool could see that that would be a plus for them both when it came time to think of adding children to their family.
Blythe reached out as he passed, grabbing his shirt. “The kiss was...lovely, Will. As ashamed as I am to say it, I don’t deny that.”
“Ashamed? Why on earth would you be ashamed to admit that the kiss was...very nice?”
To her chagrin, she felt the tears return. “Because I’ve always thought I was a decent person. But how can I be if I loved someone enough to run away and marry him and less than four months later—” her voice broke, but she forged ahead “—find another man’s kisses pleasing? I’m not sure what kind of woman that makes me.”
Will took her shoulders in his hands and gave her a single, gentle shake. “It was a kiss, Blythe. A kiss between a married couple. Does liking it make you a terrible person? Hardly. It makes you human. I certainly don’t think less of you.” He released her and raked a hand through his hair. “I liked it, too. Far too much, considering what Martha put me through.”
She pressed her lips together to still their trembling.
“When we first met, I’d formed an opinion of you by assuming you were a spoiled city girl. I figured that your name and social position were the only things that mattered to you, and I disliked your brother. Do you know what changed my opinion?”
She shook her head.
“Seeing you tackle things you have no knowledge of with hardheaded determination and a desire to be a good wife in spite of everything, even though I’m not the husband you wanted.”
“I’m not the wife you wanted, either.”
He offered her a wry smile. “Well, despite what we wanted, we’re stuck with each other, and I’m not dissatisfied.” He reached out and trailed a finger along the curve of her jaw. “I don’t know about you, but I think we’re doing okay so far. Let’s just take things slow and easy and see where it leads.”
The warring emotions racing through her battled for supremacy. Lingering shame. Hope. Confidence and a growing certainty that she had done the unthinkable. She had fallen in love with her husband.
What could she do but nod in agreement?
* * *
Blythe hardly slept that night. She relived the kiss and the conversation over and over and called herself ten kinds of fool, but by the time the sun peeked over the horizon, she was more certain than ever that she loved her husband, no matter what kind of woman that made her. It remained to be seen what she would do with that knowledge. Arching her back, she stretched, knowing that she couldn’t hide from him forever.
She levered herself into a sitting position and the room began to spin, as it had several times lately. When things settled, she rose and began to dress. As she brushed her hair and twisted it up into a no-nonsense knot atop her head, she regarded her reflection carefully. Her skin looked pale; there were dark circles beneath her eyes and hollows in her cheeks.
She wondered if she should see what Rachel had to say about the recurring dizzy spells but figured she would just blame it on the stress she’d been through and hard work, just as she had before.
Even though she was moving slowly, she had breakfast almost finished when Will stepped out of his room. Unlike her, he looked refreshed and energetic.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She whirled to reach for the coffeepot and the kitchen took a dip. She reached for something to grab hold of, but there was nothing. As she crumpled to the floor, she heard Will’s voice calling her name. She thought she heard a note of panic in it.
When she awoke, she realized she was in the back of the wagon, which bounced along the road. She wanted to ask where they were going, but it seemed like far too much effort to talk. Instead she closed her eyes and let the darkness take her once more.
The next time she woke, Will was carrying her.
“Where are we going?”
“To see the doctor.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“You’re not fine.”
Edward must have seen them barreling across the railroad tracks, because he was opening the surgery door by the time Will gathered Blythe into his arms.
“What’s going on?” Edward asked, gesturing toward one of the empty rooms.
“She fainted again. Is Rachel up?”
“She’s up, but she’s not taking patients for a while yet.”
“Oh, the baby...” Blythe murmured, surfacing from the darkness for a moment. She’d forgotten that Rachel’s baby was only a few days old.
“Yes, the baby,” Edward said as Will deposited Blythe onto the narrow bed. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head. I think I can handle things for a while.” He gave her a mischievous smile and gave her hand a pat. “I taught Rachel everything she knows, you know.”
He took Blythe’s wrist between his fingers and looked at his watch. “What happened?”
“You know she fainted Sunday at the wedding, and Rachel seemed to think it was strain and anxiety, but ever since the wedding, she’s been cleaning like a madwoman, trying to get ready for my mother’s visit.” He offered a wry smile. “I don’t think the marriage has eased her worry any.”
Edward nodded and turned his intelligent gaze to Blythe. “Anything else?”
“Some dizzy spells that come on without warning,” she told him truthfully. “They usually pass in a few seconds. And my back has been hurting, but as Will said, I’ve been doing a lot of cleaning.”
“Nausea, sleepiness?”
“A little, but nothing that doesn’t go away when I eat something. I have been really tired, but all the cleaning...”
“Did you have any of these symptoms before the wedding?”
Blythe’s forehead wrinkled in a frown of concentration. “Yes, now that you mention it, I did. Nothing serious, though.”
“Okay, then,” Edward said. “Since this has been going on awhile, I’ll need to give you a full examination. Will, why don’t you go into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee with Gabe? And please send Danny to get Libby. I’m sure my lovely fiancée will want to know Blythe’s under the weather.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Will asked. Blythe wondered if she imagined the concern in his eyes. “I’d have made her come sooner if I thought there was something wrong.”
“You did fine, Will. Neither of you would have any way of knowing if there’s something more at play here. That’s why you have me.”
“What’s going on?” Rachel stepped through the doorway wearing a robe that looked as if it belonged to her husband.
“You need to go back to bed,” her father told her. “I know you hardly slept a wink last night.”
“I need to be right here. I’ll just sit and observe.”
Edward regarded his daughter with dismay but nodded his acceptance. It was clear he and Rachel had butted heads before, and that he knew when further argument was futile. He pointed to the chair next to the bed. “Sit.” He pointed to Will. “Go.”
Will lost no time heading for the door. As soon as he’d left the room, Rachel went to stand by the bed. Her expression was solemn as she took Blythe’s hand in both of hers and looked at her father.
“Sit down, Rachel,” he commanded, indicating the needlepoint chair again. When Rachel complied, he continued. “Blythe fainted again,” Edward said. “Some extreme tiredness, a bit of nausea. Backaches.”
“What are you thinking, Pops?”
Blythe looked from one concerned face to the other. Clearly, they suspected something more than constant worry was causing her fainting spells. “You’re scaring me,” she whispered, her eyes wide and her face devoid of color.
Rachel tried to smile, but it was a poor attempt. Giving Blythe’s hand another comforting pat, Edward said, “There’s no need to be scared, and I won’t be sure until I do an exam, but I’m inclined to think you’re with child.”
“B-But I can’t be.”
Both Edward and Rachel looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Surely you and Devon—” Rachel said.
“Yes! Yes!” Blythe exclaimed, waving her hand to silence Rachel before she could put her question into words. She drew in a deep breath and tried to find calm. “Yes, our marriage was...consummated, but since then, I... Everything has been...normal.”
“That can happen,” Edward told her.
“Dad’s right. It can,” Rachel added. “But when you put everything together...the dizzy spells, the backaches, the sleepiness and occasional queasiness. It’s time to look a little deeper, don’t you agree?”
“No!” Blythe cried, her wild-eyed gaze moving from one doctor to the other. Every part of her being rejected what she was hearing. She couldn’t be expecting a baby! Surely God wouldn’t do this to her, not when it looked as if she and Will might be able to make their marriage work.
“If you are expecting, it’s not something you can ignore,” Rachel said in a gentle voice.
The door opened and everyone looked in that direction. Libby stood there, more disheveled than Blythe had ever seen her, the concern in her eyes undeniable.
“Edward?” she questioned in a quavering voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Edward held out an arm and Libby rushed to his side. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he told her as he slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“Did I hear something about a baby?” she asked, glancing at her daughter, whose face was wet with tears. “Blythe?”
“They think I may be with child,” she said and lost all control of her crying.
“We won’t know until she’s examined,” Edward said. His words were spoken to his fiancée, but he was looking at Blythe. “There’s no sense upsetting yourself until we find out the truth. Then you can figure out how you’re going to...go forward.”
His meaning was impossible to miss. If she was carrying Devon’s child, she would have to tell Will. Blythe felt more tears slide down her cheeks. She brushed them away with an angry gesture. “I’m not sure I can...deal with one more thing! It’s too much. Will...Will...he’ll think I only married him to try to trap him and get a father for...for Devon’s—” her voice broke on a sob “—baby!”
“Shush,” Libby soothed, leaving the comfort of Edward’s side and rushing to the bed. “Everything will be fine.”
“It won’t be fine, Mama. Will didn’t really want a wife. How do you think he’s going to take to the idea of a baby?”
“Blythe, listen to me,” Libby said, laying a hand on Blythe’s clenched fist.
“I’ll just tell him we can have the marriage annulled.”
“Blythe, calm down!” Libby said in the tone that told her daughter she wasn’t in any mood to be trifled with.
Blythe nodded, sniffed and knuckled the tears from her eyes.
“Let’s don’t get the cart before the horse. Let Edward have a look at you, and we’ll go from there.”
Moments later, Edward drew the blanket up over Blythe and announced, “You are definitely having a baby. Judging from the time you and Devon eloped, I’d say you’re just over three months along.”
The words fell into Blythe’s consciousness with all the weight of stones sinking to the bottom of a well. For the second time in less than half a year, her dreams had been dashed, her tentative hope for a better future shattered.
* * *
Will wasn’t sure how long he wandered around the Gentry kitchen, his mind whirling with concern for his new bride. Gabe had left him with instructions to help himself to any of the leftover breakfast items sitting at the back of the stove, but for the first time in a long time, Will found he had no appetite.
He was trying to drink yet another cup of coffee when he heard steps in the hallway. Rachel stood there, looking drawn and concerned.
“You can come in now.”
He set the cup onto the table so hard the liquid sloshed over the side. When he stepped out into the hallway that led to the surgery, Rachel was already at the door. She stepped aside for him and closed it behind them.
The tension in the room reached out and grabbed him by the throat. Will’s troubled gaze moved from one woman to the other. Blythe’s eyes were red from crying and she was looking at him with actual fear
. Libby stood straight and tall next to the bed, her usually pleasant face firm with resolve, as if she were readying herself to go into battle. Only Edward seemed his usual professional self.
“Sit down, Will,” Rachel said.
Hearing her tone of voice, Will felt as if the bottom fell out of his stomach. What was it? Was there something seriously wrong with Blythe, some terrible condition? He stood with his legs slightly apart, bracing himself for whatever it was coming his way as he looked from her to Edward. “I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“We thought we should break the news to you before everyone in town finds out about it, and they will.”
He frowned. “Finds out what?”
Rachel glanced at her father, who got straight to the point.
“Blythe is expecting a baby.”
Will felt as if Big Dan Mercer had given him a punch in the gut. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was speechless. His new wife, the woman he had promised to love and cherish and honor just days ago, was expecting a child. A baby. Another man’s baby.
He looked at Blythe, but she was staring at the hands twisting together in her lap. Without a word, he spun on his heel and left the room.
The last things he heard before slamming the door shut behind him were Libby’s horrified gasp, Blythe’s wail of sorrow and Rachel’s sharp voice calling out, “Stop being so holier-than-thou, Will Slade.”
The command gave him only momentary pause. He stormed through the house out onto the front porch, where he found Banjo waiting. Without acknowledging the dog’s presence, Will began to pace. He plowed both hands through his hair and clutched his head, trying to make some sort of sense of what he’d just heard.
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