His Lady Deceived

by Cheryl Bolen

  Potts was the finest fellow he knew. He deserved a fine woman like Lady Sarah.

  What a bloody big mistake Alfred had made.

  Chapter 7

  Several of them met in the morning room for breakfast. Even though no places were assigned, out of habit Alfred came and sat next to Lady Sarah after he piled his plate from the offerings on the sideboard. And as was his custom, Potts sat across from the lady, even more mute than normal.

  The lady was exquisite. There was something ethereal about the way she looked in the pale blue and frothy lace gown. It was no wonder Potts was struck dumb. And Potts had yet to kiss her. As Alfred had. The very memory of that brief kiss under the mistletoe stirred him as no other kiss ever had.

  "It appears the snow has continued all night," she said.

  "Yes," Alfred agreed. He looked at the lady's mother who sat at her daughter's side. "Will you be among the group visiting the squire’s today?"

  Lady Babington nodded. "I believe all the ladies are going, except for my daughter and your sister. It will also be nice to see the village."

  He spooned marmalade onto his toast. "Indeed. It is very kind of Lady Sarah to stay behind with my sister."

  "I assure you, it's no hardship” Lady Sarah said. “We're to play chess, and Mama knows how much I enjoy playing games."

  "Just like Wick," Potts said.

  Lady Sarah looked mischievously at him. "Oh dear, Mr. Wickham, I do hope I haven't your other vices."

  He was glad his mother preferred to take breakfast in bed. This woman derived far too much pleasure in pointing out his shortcomings. What a pity he had been the instigator of the practice.

  The duchess entered the chamber, and all the men stood in reverence. He was so proud of his cousin. Even though she was a duchess, Bonny never flaunted her exalted position. She eschewed the practice of eating in bed in order to mingle with her guests.

  She placed a single piece of toast on her plate and poured herself a cup of tea before coming to sit down next to Twigs. "I understand your father-in-law’s coming here today to play billiards with the men whilst we women descend upon his house."

  Twigs shuddered. "Can't blame the fellow. Wouldn't want to be there with all those babbling women." Then he grimaced. "Fine fellow, but a wretched billiards player." He shook his head. "Charlie could beat him."

  The vision of two-year-old Charlie standing upon a chair with a billiards cue in hand sent Alfred into guffaws of laughter. Bonny followed, holding her hand over her mouthful of half-chewed food.

  The duke then strolled into the chamber, standing in the doorway. "A happy Christmas Eve to all of you," he said before turning loving eyes upon his wife, then moving to the sideboard and filling his plate. He came to kiss his wife on the cheek before taking a seat. "Good morning, my love."

  Bonny looked up at her husband with love in her eyes and squeezed his hand. "Happy Christmas Eve, my darling."

  "Here," Alfred said to the duke, "you can take my seat. I'm finished."

  * * *

  They had been playing chess for hours. Sarah's body was stiff. She could only imagine how uncomfortable Lady Dunsford must be. "I think, my lady, you need a break. Shall I ring for tea or something to drink?"

  Lady Dunsford sighed. "No, but I should very much like to put up my feet. These ankles tend to swell. I will be so happy when this babe comes."

  They moved to the sofa near the window, and the expectant mother elevated her legs. Sarah sat in a nearby chair.

  "You're an excellent chess player,” Sarah said. “I fear I'm going to sound like your brother, but I must say you play chess like a . . ."

  ". . . a man. I know. I was thinking the same thing about you!"

  They both laughed.

  "I will own," Lady Dunsford said, "I have only ever played with Alfred."

  "And I have mostly played with my father. My brothers are much older and have been in the Peninsula for what seems half of my life."

  "I met your oldest brother when I was there with my aunt and uncle a few years ago."

  "I'd forgotten that you spent time in the Peninsula."

  Lady Dunsford grew solemn. "Yes. It was a sad time. So many deaths. My aunt died while I was there, you know."

  Sarah nodded. "And Lord Dunsford's brother died there. Poor little Harriett. But she's fortunate to have you and Lord Dunsford."

  "We're the fortunate ones. We adore her."

  "Would you like me to send for her now?" Sarah knew how much Lady Dunsford enjoyed being around the little girl.

  The lady shook her head. "No. I don't want her to see me like this. You see, I'm not feeling well at all."

  Sarah's brows lowered. "What can I do to help?"

  "I don't think there's anything you can do. I must wait and see if it's my time."

  Panic struck Sarah. What if it was Lady Dunsford's time? All the ladies were gone. Sarah was as knowledgeable about birthing babes as the vicar squire was about billiards.

  She knew but one thing about the birth of babes: the birth of a first child always took longest. She'd been told it could take many hours--sometimes even days. She coaxed herself to remain calm. The ladies would be home in a couple of hours. Since this was Lady Dunsford's first babe, the birth was not likely to occur before Christmas Day. Their mothers would be home by then, and the mothers could take charge of everything.

  "Do I need to alert Lord Dunsford?"

  The lady shook her head. "No. He’s gone shooting with duke. Besides, it's too early to say with certainty if it's my time, or if I'm just feeling poorly. I haven't felt terribly well for some time."

  Sarah touched her hand. "I'm so sorry, but your reward is very near now."

  Lady Dunsford favored Sarah with a radiant smile. "Yes, he is. I just know I'm carrying Henry's heir. We are very happy."

  "You’re very blessed. I would happily trade places with you. To have a husband who is so clearly in love with you, to be on the verge of motherhood. I can't imagine having a more full life."

  Sarah not only longed for a marriage that was a true love match, but she also craved children. Being around Harriett and Charlie made her more aware than ever of how much she loved children, of how much she was missing, of how empty her life was.

  Lady Dunsford took both of Sarah's hands and clasped them within her own. "You will find such joy. I'm just very sorry it's not working out with my brother. I truly believed you two would be perfect for each other."

  Sarah bit her lip. "I wouldn't have come here had I not initially been attracted to him, but I fear his affections are elsewhere engaged." But why had he kissed her? It was as if he’d pulled the carpet from under her complacency. She felt worse than ever now—now that she’d tasted his lips and knew what she was missing.

  Obviously the kiss had meant nothing to him. It was a mere lark, a lark that had robbed her of sleep.

  His sister's eyes widened, and she shook her head solemnly. "I cannot believe that. I would know it if my brother were in love with someone. We’ve always been close."

  Sarah shrugged. "Lord Pottinger informed me, but it's not my place to speak further on the matter."

  The lady nodded. Though she tried to disguise it, Sarah could tell she was in a great deal of pain.

  "It's a pity the both of us are so ignorant of what one is to expect at a time such as this," Sarah said.

  "Yes. Of course, it won't be long before my mother comes. She'll know everything."

  Once more, Sarah experienced that third-tit feeling. She hated being so useless. Most of her life—even though she was the baby of her family—she had always been possessed of an authoritarian personality. She was a natural nurturer. She liked taking care of others. She had been a wonderful nursemaid when Mama had taken ill last year. And she had knitted socks for all her parents' cottagers and taught Scripture and reading to the children of the village, and she had organized subscriptions for the war widows in her brothers' regiment. She loved being useful.

  Footsteps sounded in
the corridor outside the drawing room. Sarah was grateful the women had returned. The door opened, and Lord Dunsford and the duke came into the chamber.

  "You're back early," Lady Dunsford said.

  "We were lucky to make it back. It's a blizzard out there."

  Lady Dunsford leapt to her feet and went to the window. Sarah followed. How could they not have noticed how wretched the weather had become? Just because sun shone in the sky, they had been blinded to the fury of snowstorm. That there had been no lull in their conversation had masked their interest in the day’s rather fierce weather.

  "Oh dear," Lady Dunsford said morosely. "Will Mama be able to come home from the Carlisles’?"

  The duke solemnly shook his head. "Not in this weather."

  A tear trickled down Lady Dunsford’s cheek.

  "What's wrong, love?" Lord Dunsford asked.

  "My time has come."

  Her husband moved to her and set a hand at her waist. "Everything will be fine." The tremble in his voice betrayed the comfort of his words.

  Sarah also moved to her and placed a gentle hand on her forearm. "Don't worry. Your mother will be home in time for the birth. You know what they say about the first babe. It always takes the longest. It will be many, many hours before it comes."

  The lady lifted frightened eyes to her husband. He looked from his wife, to the duke.

  Both men frowned.

  Lady Dunsford swallowed. Then she burst into tears. "It's not my first."

  Chapter 8

  It took a few seconds for the shock of Lady Dunsford's words to make sense, and then Sarah understood. Lady Dunsford must have given birth to Harriett out of wedlock when she lived on the Peninsula. Was Lord Dunsford's dead brother the father? He must have been. The child looked so much like the Dunsfords.

  But the sweet child's parentage was not at question here. All that mattered now was bringing that child's little brother or sister into the world. And whether she knew what she was doing or not, Sarah meant to do her best to assist Lady Dunsford to the best of her capabilities.

  She quickly recovered and smiled at the distressed woman. "Do not fret, my lady. All will be well. You are not alone. You're surrounded by those who love you, and I mean to help in every way I can. Were my mother here, she would attest to my abilities in the sick room. I do not get queasy, and I have never in my life fainted. I will do everything in power to help bring your little lord or lady into the world."

  "We do thank you," Lord Dunsford said.

  "My husband, I fear, does faint in the sick room," Lady Dunsford managed between grimaces.

  Sarah turned to him and spoke in a commanding voice. "At least you can carry your wife up to her bed. I’ll do my best to take charge."

  Then she turned to the duke. "What of your female servants? Have any of them attended at a birth?"

  He gave the matter a few seconds of thought, and then nodded. "The cook was present at Charlie's birth. Of course, I had an accoucheur."

  The Duke of Radcliff would have insisted only the most skilled persons attended his wife at the birth of his heir.

  "Please send the cook up." Hopefully, between the two of them Lady Dunsford would be well cared for.

  As Lord Dunsford was carrying his wife upstairs, her brother saw them, and rushed from the billiards room. "What's happened? Is Em all right?" There was panic in his voice as he raced after them.

  "Her time has come," Lord Dunsford said solemnly.

  "Where's Mama?" Alfred Wickham was now abreast of his brother-in-law.

  "We fear she's been snowed in at the Carlisles’,” his sister responded. “Have you not noticed there's a blizzard outside?"

  "No! The draperies were closed in the billiards room."

  Mr. Wickham addressed his sister’s husband. "I thought you were useless in the sickroom."

  Lord Dunsford hung his head. "Alas, I regret to say that’s true."

  "I’ll assist,” Mr. Wickham said.

  His sister’s head whipped around. “You will do no such thing! I should be embarrassed to death.”

  “But in the absence of . . . most everyone, you need me. I've a stomach of iron—and I've been at the birth of countless foals."

  Lady Sarah’s eyes rolled. "I beg you not put your niece or nephew in the same category with your livestock."

  He eyed her. "And how many births have you even been at?"

  She stiffened.

  Before she could answer, Lady Dunsford erupted into tears. "Please don't bicker. Lady Sa-a-arah has done me the goodness to offer to help bring our child into the world. . .”

  “And," Lord Dunsford added, "unlike me, Lady Sarah has never fainted at the sight of blood."

  To this remark, Mr. Wickham burst out laughing. "I promise that between Lady Sarah and me, we will see mother safely delivered of a babe." He turned to Lady Dunsford and spoke softly. “There’s nothing embarrassing about becoming a mother.”

  "Cook is to help, too," the duke added, a hopeful expression on his face.

  Lord Pottinger had taken it upon himself to climb the stairs after them, for whatever purpose Sarah could not fathom, but as they reached the turquoise bedchamber where Lord and Lady Dunsford were staying, he said, “Could I have a quick w-w-word with Lady Sarah?”

  Impatiently, she went directly to him.

  “When you are finished with Lady Dunsford I should like to s-s-s-speak to you on a private matter,” he said.

  “Very well.” She turned back and hurried to the room where the Dunsfords’ child would be born.

  As inadequate as Sarah felt, she knew she could not let Lady Dunsford know of her weakness. For the expectant mother, she had to appear strong.

  With her most commanding voice, Sarah instructed his lordship to place his wife upon the big tester bed, and she propped her up on mounds of pillows and produced a fine cambric handkerchief with which to dry the lady's tears. She spoke soothingly to her. "Don’t worry. You will be cared for by those who care about you."

  Her brother leaned over and stroked her face. "You know I won't let you down, Petty."

  His sister smiled. "It's been a very long time since you've called me by that name."

  How sweet, Sarah thought. It reminded Sarah that her elder brother, John, the one closest to her in age, had always called her Scamp. She'd hated it for years and now longed to hear it just as she longed for his return from the Peninsula.

  Sarah saw that Lord Dunsford looked not at all well. Was he going to faint? That was all they needed. Two patients. "I know, my lord, you're concerned about your wife, but I think you'll help her more by absenting yourself from this chamber."

  Lady Dunsford took her husband's hand. "Yes, love. Do go."

  He nodded, and he and the duke left the chamber.

  Her husband's leaving freed the lady to grimace in a pain so intense that tears puddled in her eyes.

  Sarah wanted to ask how long it had taken Lady Dunsford to bring Harriett into the world but did not feel it her place to discuss what was probably a shameful secret in front of the lady's brother. Did he know about his sister’s secret?

  While the fire in the hearth felt good to Sarah on so freezing an evening, she knew from attending to the sick that it might not be welcome to her patient. Already perspiration was streaking Lady Dunsford’s face and moistening her hair.

  As Mr. Wickham went to cover up his sister, Sarah said, “Don’t. I think she’s very hot.” Sarah watched Lady Dunsford for a reaction.

  “I’m so hot. Please, no covers.” She spoke as if it took a great amount of effort.

  “Have a servant bring water,” Sarah said to Mr. Wickham.

  He did as bid and returned a moment later.

  “I suppose we just have to wait,” Sarah said.

  * * *

  Lord Dunsford was not able to play billiards. He was too worried about his wife. The duke, whom the earl judged to have had a similar experience worrying over his adored wife during the birth of their son, sat with him in the l
ibrary and attempted to keep him so engaged in conversation he would not dwell on Emily’s ordeal.

  No amount of repartee, though, could efface from his mind that last forlorn glimpse at the woman he loved more than anyone on earth. Would he ever be able to forget the brave way she braced against the searing pains that shot through her fragile body? God, but he loved that woman!

  They were soon joined by Twigs and Lord Pottinger. Which was probably a very good thing. Neither of the two was possessed of great intellect, but each was exceedingly well-liked, and each was amusing in a way that made the observer feel superior. Which was really not very charitable, especially when the fellows were so eminently likeable.

  “Where are the other men?” the duke asked Twigs.

  “Cressy’s father, Wickham’s father, and Lady Sarah’s father are all playing billiards—though Cressy’s father is only playing at playing billiards, if you get my meaning—while he rants about needing to get home tonight.”

  The duke’s brows rose. “Is the man delusional?”

  Twigs shrugged. “I ain’t a genius, but even I know he ain’t going to make it home by tomorrow morning.”

  Lord Pottinger walked to the window and peered into the night. “The snow hasn’t stopped falling all day.” He came back and sat on one of the chamber’s velvet sofas.

  “Gentlemen,” the duke said, “it looks as if we may be having a Christmas baby at Hedley Hall.”

  “Your wife, Lord Dunsford?” Lord Pottinger inquired.

  Dunsford nodded.

  “I say,” Twigs said with the amazement of one who’d just discovered the printing press, “jolly good birthday to have! Just think how easy it will be to remember. Christmas Day. Everyone knows December twenty-fifth. I never can remember Cressy’s birthday. Thought I had it last year. You know the chant, Fifth of November Since I can remember.” Twigs’ face fell. “Unfortunately it wasn’t her birthday, it was . . .”

  “Guy Fawkes Day,” every man in the chamber said, laughing.

  Twigs shook his head somberly. “You may laugh, but I assure you my wife was not happy.” He looked most displeased. “And she did not at all like the present I gave her, either.”