The Gamble

by Laura Parker

  “I imagine it will become more so.” The first easy expression in weeks creased Ran’s face. “I believe I may stand instead for the defense.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The house was inordinately quiet when Ran returned, though it was early evening, just after dark. For the past three weeks he and Lotte had lived as separately as two people sharing a roof could. They had glimpsed one another only by accident in a hallway, entering or leaving a room, or coming or going on the stairs. Each time Lotte looked stricken, as if she had been caught in an unlawful act. He felt, equally, that she had.

  After the first week she had stopped even attempting to speak with him during these chance encounters. He had preferred it that way. Now, after his conversation with Darlington, he was not so certain that he might not be the greatest fool in Christendom.

  Darlington was in love with Sabrina Lyndsey.

  Darlington was never his wife’s lover.

  Darlington was not the father of Lotte’s child.

  He had tried so hard, a hundred different ways a day, to accept the unacceptable, that his wife carried another man’s child.

  Now for nearly an hour, the time it had taken him to ride from Newgate to his door, he had been considering the possibility that the adjustment was totally unnecessary.

  Lotte carried his child.

  He felt the truth of it in his heart, but his heart had proved a very unreliable organ these last months, prodding him to actions and words that had nearly destroyed his home and his happiness. Could he believe this swelling sense of hope inside him? However tentative, could he begin to repair the great damage his disbelief must have caused, and still caused, his wife?

  His wife.

  He climbed the stairs to their private chambers with a heavy tread. He did not know what to say to her. He, who always had words for every occasion, could not think of a single line to eradicate the hurtful, spiteful, ugly suspicions he had heaped on Lotte. She might not listen, even if he found them.

  A cold hand wrapped itself about his heart. What if he had lost her? What if no reconciliation was possible? Would they go on passing one another in the halls as strangers until it no longer wounded either of them and they each, to ward off this chill he already felt in his soul, sought in truth to find happiness in the arms of another?

  He went first to his own chamber to relieve himself of his outer clothing and wash away the grime of the day. Afterward, he took his brocade jacket off and put it on half a dozen times before he gave up in disgust and slung it into a corner. He had never before worried about how Lotte might interpret his intentions if he approached her in his shirtsleeves. Months before he had often passed through the door connecting their bedchambers wearing nothing at all and been absolutely confident in her reception.

  He glanced at the discarded jacket. “Coward,” he muttered and went over to the door before his nerve broke.

  He did not knock for fear she would reject him. When the latch gave under the pressure of his hand he sighed in relief. She might have taken to locking her side.

  He entered so quietly that she did not at first notice him. She sat in bed reading by the light of a single candle. Despite the cold of the evening she was dressed in lacy dishabille with her fiery ringlets caught up in a green ribbon atop her head. She looked as delectable as a French pastry. But he knew that she was no mere puff and creme confection. She was a flesh and blood woman with real feelings and pride and an inviolate sense of self-worth. He would never again forget that.

  “I have been to see Darlington.”

  She started badly at the sound of his voice. Her book tumbled from her grasp. Yet when she turned her head and saw him standing in the open doorway, she merely said, “I see.”

  How he had missed her voice, the throaty, almost boyish contralto that, in fact, could really only belong to a woman.

  He took a step toward her, testing her reception. “I thought you would wish to know that he is well.”

  She reached for and closed her book before answering. “Thank you for the consideration.”

  When she looked away from him, he took two more steps toward the bed. “Lotte, I have something to say. I—”

  “Please!” She held up a hand and shook her head, refusing to even glance at him. “I do not think I can bear another round of quarreling.” She did look at him then and the expression of grief on her lovely face tore at his heart. “I give up, Ran. I concede to your desire to be rid of me. But in my condition I do not think it wise for me to leave London. After the chi—” She again glanced away. “Afterward, toward the middle of the summer, I shall move home with my parents.”

  She began nervously pleating the coverlet. “They are fond of babes. My sisters have given them half a dozen grandbabies. Another will hardly be noticed.”

  Ran hesitated. “If that is your wish.”

  She nodded slowly, still gazing at the coverlet. “I think it best.”

  “Best for whom?”

  “Best for all of us.” She lifted a hand to her brow and rubbed her frown lines as if they gave her pain. “You do not wish me here, cannot bear the sight of me. How much worse it will be after the babe’s arrival.”

  Ran quietly approached within a foot of the bed, watching her every move. “You believe I would put you and your babe out on the street?”

  “No, I do not.” She lowered her hand to press the tremble from her lips. “You are a good man, a generous man. I know you would do all that is expected of you and more. But I will not burden you with a daily reminder of a lie that you prefer to see as truth.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “Of course, you are wrong—” She started a second time, as if he had interrupted her and not her thoughts. She turned her head toward him, her gaze disbelievingly wide. “Did you say you were wrong?”

  He could not even smile. “Yes.”

  She shook her head, a tight little movement of confusion that set two loose curls dancing lightly across her brow. “I think you must make yourself more clear, Ran. I have given up the attempt to understand you.”

  He managed a shrug. “I was wrong, Lotte, wrong about everything. I may be a dunderhead but even I can be made to see reality in the end.”

  Her gaze was as wide as any ocean now, and perfectly blue. “And this new reality. Does it have a cause?”

  He swallowed, wishing he had the right to reach out and touch her. For he would, gladly, wrap her in his arms and hold her so close she would never have to doubt him again. “The blinders of pride have been lifted from my eyes.”

  She looked away from him at last, her voice grown husky from emotion. “I would not be too sure. A reckless word spoken after dark often proves the height of folly with the morning light.”

  She knew him all too well. It was true, just gazing at her had brought him to tumescence. But that was not the reason he had come to her and she must never think that lust had overcome his better reason. Still, the joy of this familiar desire should not be denied. “I have always rather enjoyed my follies after dark with you.”

  She kept her gaze averted. “Do not! Do not tease me, Ran. I cannot take another false hope. I have put away my foolish dreams. You must allow me to remain in peace, for the child’s sake.”

  “I will do that, I swear to you that I will never be the cause of another moment’s alarm or pain. But you must hear me out, tonight. And then I will leave you.”

  She looked at him then and he saw his declaration came too late. Her brimming eyes spoke of great pain and he knew he was the cause.

  Suddenly he was remembering the last fight they had before she ran away, when he had called her foolish and her friends idlers, and wished he could take back all the words he had ever spoken in anger and simply take her in his arms and kiss her breathless. He lived by his power with words, won through persuasion and argument men and causes to his side. Yet words had been the cause of his and Lotte’s estrangement: accusations, warnings
, retaliations and resentments. There had already been far too many words and not nearly enough actions to serve as antidote.

  He moved to bend a knee upon the bed and though she stiffened he sat down, his knee a foot from her leg. She stared at his knee as if it were a red-hot poker and then, for no reason he could discern, she jumped.

  “What’s wrong?” He reached out without thinking and touched her thigh. “Are you in pain?”

  A funny look crossed her face and then she glanced sidelong at him. “Nay, ’tis only the babe.”

  “The babe?” His voice rose slightly in alarm. “What’s wrong with the babe?”

  “Nothing, it is perfectly well.” She turned bright pink. “ ’Tis only that he or she has awakened.”

  He frowned at her in doubt. “How do you know it’s awake?”

  To his utter surprise she reached out and took his hand in hers and then pushed it, palm flat, against her belly. It took him no time to realize what his eyes had yet to determine, that her belly had grown convex and quite firm. While he was digesting this development the swelling did a most remarkable thing—it moved!

  His eyes snapped up to her face to see Lotte smiling at him serenely. “The babe?” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  He lifted his hand and then pressed it back, hoping to feel another kick. “How far along are you?”

  “By my reckoning, nearly five months.”

  “So much as that?” he breathed, inexplicably whispering as if the child might overhear him. “A May babe.”

  “I am thinking that if it is a girl I may name her Hyacinth or Columbine.”

  “And if ‘tis a boy?”

  She looked momentarily sad. “I am not certain.”

  He smiled for the first time. “My father’s name is William. ’Tis a sound name, a family name.”

  She looked at him, doubting him. “Would that be wise?”

  “Wise and sound and absolutely fitting.” His eyes widened as he felt a second rolling pressure under his palm. “After all, my first son will one day be heir to an earldom.”

  “Ran?”

  “Yes, love.” He lifted his gaze of wonder to her face. “You heard me right. The child, whether boy or girl, may have a fool for a father, but father I am.”

  “Oh Ran!” She opened her arms to him.

  Her breath was warm and sweet in his mouth. He did not think then of what he was doing, or even if he should be doing it, only that she had embraced him and that in doing so the icy hand unclenched from about his heart and the blood now flowed hot and heavy through his veins. His hand threaded through her tangled curls and he followed as she reclined back onto the pillows.

  She did not protest as his hands found and pushed her gown from her shoulders. She held onto him, moaning softly even before his hands touched her skin. He found her breasts more voluptuous than before, and her nipples longer and pointed. He found that she smelled the same, a subtle sweetness at her neck and between her breasts. Then he tasted the pungent essence of desire as he dipped his head lower down. She came instantly alive in his hands and mouth, brought to the peak of need before he could even divest himself of his clothing. And then he slid into her, tenderly, softly, remembering only when he was buried in her that there was a new life within her, one that they had created together and which, to his everlasting joy, he now knew to be his.

  They lay quietly a long time after that, just touching and whispering nothings, and touching again, as if each had thought the other lost forever across some great unspeakable divide.

  “I was afraid to bear a child,” Lotte said finally, having begun to try to explain the many cross-purposes that had motivated her behavior. “I thought I would die in childbirth, as my mother did.”

  Ran held her tighter to his chest, trembling with a new fear. “Dear sweet one, why did you not confide in me your fears?”

  “How could I? You wanted children so badly and I wanted you. I thought I could make you happy enough that if there were no children for a time, I would be enough for you.”

  “You are, dearest.” He kissed her brow, pushing a fiery curl against his lips. “But that will not change with the arrival of a child. I do want children, of course. Yet, had I known your fears I would have taken precautions. There are ways to prevent conception.”

  “I know.”

  He lifted his head to look at her. “Do you?”

  She blushed crimson. “They don’t work very well, do they?”

  He stared at her, aghast. Then his face eased into a smile. “You are a very naughty girl, Lotte.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” She walked her fingers through the black silk curls lightly furring his chest and then hugged his neck. “But I am glad it happened this way. I was only a little sick at first and passed it off as indigestion. Now that the child is growing I feel stronger and happier with each day.”

  “Promise me one thing against the future.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “That you will confide in me your fears as well as your joys. I cannot be expected to solve them but I can be there to share them with you so that you will be a little less afraid.”

  She kissed the side of his jaw. “I am never afraid when I am in your arms.”

  “Then we shall have to see to it you are here regularly and often.”

  “I should like that above every other thing. I do love you, Ran. I always have.”

  “And I you, Lotte. We have been a great pair of fools.”

  “Yes, we have. But is the making up not worth the pain?”

  “No, and we must never forget it. We nearly lost one another in our folly. We must be very careful in the future to never take that risk again.”

  “I think we have learned our lesson.”

  Ran debated bringing up the subject but decided it was as well that they air all their differences at once. He took a deep breath. “I gave up my mistress a month ago. It was a stupid mistake which I should have corrected at once, but pride would not let me admit the error.”

  Lotte took her time in answering. “Many men have mistresses,” she said slowly, “especially if their wives do not please them.”

  He turned on his side to face her. “Never think that, Lotte. It was never about that. In fact, I was with her only three times, and all within the first fortnight.”

  “Yes, certainly I believe that,” she remarked lightly.

  “No, truly.”

  “But, Ran, you set her up more than two months ago.”

  “Three, to be exactly,” he supplied ruefully.

  “And in all this time, you never bedded her after the first two weeks?”

  “I swear it.”

  “Then what have you managed to … no, I should not ask.”

  “Cards,” he supplied. “We played cards.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I found that she could not cure me of my passion for you.”

  “Cure you? Why should you wished to be cured?”

  His smile was liberally laced with chagrin. “Fool that I am, I was afraid of the passion you inspired in me by simply walking into a room. I cannot eat or drink, or think much beyond anything but you when you are near. I was certain it was but a form of madness that could be exorcised.”

  “Between another woman’s thighs,” she added acerbically.

  “Folly, Lotte. I know now. Complete folly.”

  “Yet this desire to be free of your passion for me? Why was it so important to you?”

  He shrugged. “Vanity. No other husband of my acquaintance held his wife so dearly. I know now they are the unlucky ones. But sometimes, a man believes he should be as other men. I found their disinterest gave them an edge in their management of other things. They could eat and sleep and drink politics while I could do nothing but dream of being with you.”

  “Well then,” Lotte answered, hugely enjoying this declaration of his infatuation. “We must see what we can do to aid you
r career. I would not want you to fall behind on my account. I could dye my hair with tea leaves to take away its brightness and sit in the sun until I become very freckled. I could eat twice my usual fare at dinner until I become as corpulent as a pig—”

  “And I would still love you!” he answered warmly.

  She glanced at him askance. “I am not certain I would feel the same about you were you to subject yourself to the same regimen.”

  “Yes, you would,” he answered confidently and rolled her over until she lay fully over him. “You will love me when I am fat and bald, and gap-toothed. Because…” He paused to kiss her soft mouth. “Because you love me, foolish soul that I am, just as I love you, gallant spirit that you are.” He rubbed his hands in a molding caress down her flanks to her hips, which he cupped against his new-rising passion. “But I’m not so much of a fool that I will not enjoy this lovely form of yours for as long as it lasts.”

  “A moment, sir, before you begin your mighty exertions again.” She rose up and propped an elbow in the middle of his chest and placed her chin in her hand. “There is still the matter of Darlington and Sabrina.”

  Ran sighed. Darlington again. He supposed he would become accustomed to the sound of that name without flinching. “What do you have in mind?”

  “First of all, he’s in need of the very best counsel.”

  Ran smiled. “I’m very much afraid he will have to settle for lesser fare.”

  “Because the fellow will go against you?” She smiled fondly at him. “Then you will have to try to do less than your best in prosecuting him.”

  He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “No, Lotte love, I mustn’t. Darlington’s counsel is none other than myself.”

  “You? You! Oh Ran, how splendid of you!”

  She kissed him hard and swiftly. “But this is perfect. He will be set free, without doubt.”

  “I appreciate your confidence.” He did not wish to dim her belief in him just yet. But the fact that Darlington would not recant his statement was a sticking point to his freedom. Also, she might again feel left out as he turned to concentrate on the trial.