Simply Voracious (34 page)

“I will not let you destroy my family.”

He laughed. “You’ve already destroyed it. Wait until the
ton
hears about your visiting me in my rooms.”

The now-familiar voices rose, and she heard footsteps on the stairs. How foolish had she been to come here? Jeremy had no intention of being reasonable.

She couldn’t let Paul near him again. Paul would kill him if he heard the vitriol pouring from his mouth. “I’ll pay you to keep quiet, I’ll do anything!”

“You will damned well not!” Behind her, the door was flung fully open. Paul’s furious voice made her want to curl up and hide. Instead she walked toward him and blocked his path.

“Leave him alone, Paul.” She saw the shock in his brown eyes as her words registered. He reached out a peremptory hand to set her aside but she evaded his grasp. “Haven’t you done enough to destroy my family’s reputation? Why did you do this to him?”

His mouth thinned, but at least he turned his anger on to her. “Get out of my way, wife.”

“I’ll not let you kill him, Paul.”

“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion, my lady.”

She shoved at his chest. “He can’t defend himself!”

“So?”

She’d never seen Paul in such an icy rage. It was like watching a frightening stranger.

“So you can’t kill him.” She glimpsed Constantine behind Paul. “Constantine,
tell
him.”

“Lady Lucinda does have a point, St. Clare. Perhaps when Mr. Roland is recovered you can meet him on the dueling ground.”

Paul turned his head to look at Constantine, and Lucky held her breath. “You won’t act for me now, then?”

“Paul,” Con said softly. “I understand how you feel, but this is not the right time. Scum like this will find their own just reward.”

Paul let out his breath and lowered his pistol. “It seems I am overruled, Mr. Roland. But rest assured, I will return to finish this conversation when you are fully recovered.”

“So that you can beat me again?” Jeremy sneered. “And you chose him, Lucinda, instead of me. You
chose
this madman who attacked me and left me for dead. You wanted me dead!”

Lucky shook her head. “I didn’t know, I . . .” But she had hoped, she had
prayed
that Jeremy would somehow be stopped. Was she just as guilty as Paul?

“I didn’t come looking for your wife, St. Clare. She came crawling back to me, remember that.” Jeremy started to laugh. Lucky pushed blindly past Paul and headed for the stairs. This was all her fault.

All of it.

At the top of the stairs, Paul grabbed her elbow.

“Lucky . . .”

She wrenched out of his grasp. “Let me go!” Her foot slipped on the uneven planking and she fell backward, arms flailing, with nothing to break her fall. Her breath hissed out and she felt each painful jolt of her descent. She was almost grateful when her head hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs and she stopped moving.

She looked back up the stairs to see Paul’s horrified face and started to cry. She rolled awkwardly on to her front and crawled toward the newel post to pull herself upright. Pain punched her in the stomach, and she bent over with a gasp.

“Lucky, are you all right?”

She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, all her focus was on the gripping agony within her. Her last thought, as she crumpled to the floor again, was of a red-black tide of hurt crashing over her and drowning her forever.

25

P
aul paced his study, nursing the glass of brandy Con had given him and replenished regularly without being asked. Con sat by the fire, his face in shadow, his intent to stay with Paul and share his pain all too evident.

Paul stopped walking. “You should go home, Con.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t need to be . . . coddled.”

“I’m not coddling you. I’m waiting to hear how your wife is. Don’t I at least deserve that?”

Something in Con’s voice made Paul stare at him more closely. “I’m sorry, Con. It must have been a shock for you as well.”

Con just nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “I feel somewhat responsible.”

“You do?”

“Of course. What if Lady Lucinda turned to her seducer because my introduction into your bed secretly horrified her? What if Mr. Roland was right?”

“I don’t think that’s it, Con,” Paul said gently. “I think you were right in the first place. Didn’t you hear her offering to pay him off? But why?”

He sat down opposite Con and rubbed a hand over his unshaven chin. “I thought we had settled everything earlier this month.”

“By leaving the bastard barely alive and even more filled with hatred for you?” Con asked.

Paul winced. “I should have known that Seamus would be too thorough.”

“Better to have killed him,” Con mused.

Paul looked down at his hands and remembered them covered in Lucky’s blood. “I don’t know anymore, Con. I swore I’d never kill another soul after the war, but at this moment, I wish him dead.”

The door to the study opened, and Paul got to his feet.

“Dr. Jones wishes to see you, sir,” Parsons said. “And I have sent your message off to the duke and duchess and impressed upon the footman the urgency of the matter.”

“Thank you, Parsons.” Paul nodded and then turned to the doctor. “How is my wife?”

Dr. Jones bowed. “Her ladyship is sleeping now. She has a large bump on her head, and she lost some blood. She will need to regain her strength.” He coughed. “Was her ladyship in the family way, sir?”

“I’m not sure,” Paul managed. “She didn’t say anything directly to me.”

“Well, it’s possible she didn’t even know herself yet.”

Paul felt as if he were staring down into the gaping jaws of a mine shaft. “She was breeding?”

“As I said, sir, I’m not sure. But she certainly isn’t now. The fall appears to have done away with any possibility of that. But I wouldn’t worry too much, sir. Your wife is young and healthy, and I’m sure she’ll give you an heir for the dukedom in good time.”

“I don’t care about the damned dukedom. . . .” Paul said fiercely. “I care about my damned
wife
.”

Suddenly Con came up beside him and gripped his upper arm. “Thank you, Dr. Jones. As you can see, Lieutenant St. Clare needs time to absorb this news. I assume you will be calling again tomorrow?”

“Indeed I will.” The doctor picked up his bag. “Unless you wish me to wait until the duke and duchess return?”

“No, I thank you,” Paul managed. “I’ll give them the news myself. They will be relieved to hear that Lady Lucinda is not in any danger.”

“As you wish, sir. Good night. I will be back in the morning.”

“Good night, Dr. Jones,” Con replied. “Let me escort you out.”

Paul waited until their voices faded and then sat down and put his head in his hands. His throat seemed to have closed up and his eyes stung. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but he suspected he was fairly damn close to disgracing himself now.

He heard the door close, and then Con was kneeling in front of him, one hand on his knee.

“Paul?”

“If she was pregnant with his child, that might explain why she was offering him money.”

Con sighed. “That is one explanation, yes.”

“Surely it’s the only one? It also explains why she was so eager to marry me as quickly as possible.” He raised his head and stared into Con’s sympathetic gray eyes. “I’m not a complete fool. I wondered if that was the case at the time. I even convinced myself that if she was already with child, I would accept it.”

“That was very good of you.”

“But why didn’t she
tell
me? And why in God’s name did she feel it necessary to visit that man?”

“Perhaps she didn’t quite know, as the doctor said. Perhaps she just suspected . . .”

“So she went to him to do what?” Paul stood up. “To
ask
him if he made her pregnant? To beg him to take the child?” He smashed one fist into the other. “Sometimes Lucky’s insistence upon sorting things out for herself goes too far. What in God’s name was she hoping to achieve?”

Con rose too. “I think you’ll have to ask your lady for the answers to those questions.” He hesitated. “And perhaps you might ask her in a less accusatory manner.”

“I’m so angry with her, Con. She could have died, she . . .” Paul sank down on to the nearest chair. He felt Con caress his hair and the weight of his hand on the nape of his neck.

“You are angry because you love her. Remember that. She is young and she loves you very much.” Con sighed. “I think I will take your earlier advice and leave you be. You are right. This really is none of my business. I have brought nothing of worth into this relationship, only sadness.” He kissed the top of Paul’s head. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’ll leave you in peace. Give Lady Lucinda my best.”

Paul put his hand over Con’s. “Thank you for staying with me tonight. Your help was invaluable.”

Con’s smile was sweet and tinged with regret. “Let me know how Lady Lucinda goes on and if she wishes to see me again. I suspect she won’t, but a man can hope, can’t he?”

Paul watched as Con left the room. He had a horrible feeling that he might never see him again. His breath shuddered out. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to love people. All he seemed to do was hurt them. Perhaps Gabriel had been correct to enjoy him physically and not want him in any other way. Was he fundamentally weak? Had his years of not taking anything seriously, and of avoiding responsibility, been a true measure of his abilities after all?

Even Lucky thought she needed to shield and protect him. She’d put herself in danger trying to find out what had happened to the man who might have fathered her child. Guilt churned in Paul’s gut. Was that the kind of man he wanted to be? One who hid from his responsibilities? Surely he owed Lucky and the Haymore family more than that?

After a long while he heard the duke and duchess arrive in the hallway and went out to greet them.

The next morning, Paul waited until after the duke and duchess and the doctor had visited with his wife before he went to see her himself. She was in bed, her face discolored from the fall, and her skin as pale as the linen bedsheets. He nodded at Milly to leave and brought a chair up to the side of the bed.

“How are you feeling, my lady?”

She looked down at her tightly clenched hands. “I’m . . . I’m so sorry, Paul, I was so stupid, I should not have gone there. . . .”

He reached out and covered her restless fingers with his own. “It’s all right. You don’t have to explain anything.”

“But I want to, you must think I—”

He forced a smile. “I think you did what you believed was necessary. My only regret is that you didn’t feel you could trust me enough to help you.”

“It wasn’t that.” She swallowed hard. “I was trying to fix everything myself.”

“I know. But that doesn’t matter anymore, does it? All you have to do is concentrate on getting better.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll come and see you tomorrow, my dear, if that is acceptable?”

He smiled and turned for the door. He’d realized after a long night of thinking that there was no point in berating her. The fault lay with him. She’d done what she had to do and confronted her foe, thinking him either too weak to do it for her or incapable of understanding her needs. In a strange way he almost admired her for exposing him so competently, for showing him how foolish he’d been to enter into a marriage with his best friend and think to go on in the same way.

“Paul, won’t you even talk to me anymore?”

Her voice was wobbling, but he couldn’t turn around and face her quite yet. He wasn’t used to concealing how he felt from her, and she’d know he was struggling.

“Of course I’ll come back and talk to you, my lady. But your mother said I mustn’t disturb you for too long, and I would hate to incur her wrath.”

He reached the door, opened it, and fled.

Lucky stared after Paul and only realized she was weeping when two fat tears splashed down on to her tightly held bed covers, darkening the silk. He hadn’t wanted to hear her excuses. He’d been courteous and distant, and so not like her Paul that she’d lost her nerve and let him walk away without settling anything.

But what was there to settle? She’d been foolish, and he’d obviously decided he’d had enough of her antics. She deserved his lack of interest. He was probably regretting ever marrying her. Another more horrible thought caught her. What exactly had the doctor told him about her accident? Her mother didn’t seem to know anything apart from the fact that she had fallen and bruised her face and ribs.

She had to assume the doctor had been more forthcoming with Paul. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them, ignoring the dragging ache in her belly and the worse anguish in her heart. It was so unfair that when she needed to be strong she felt so decidedly weak and feminine and . . .
drat it,
weepy.

“Are you all right, Lucinda?”

She looked up and saw her mother through a blur of tears. The next moment she was enfolded in her mother’s arms. She rested her face against her shoulder and cried to her heart’s content.

“It’s all right, my love. There’ll be another chance. I lost several babies early. You might take after me.”

Lucky raised her head to stare at her mother. “What do you mean?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t bully it out of that poor doctor?” The duchess’s face softened. “You were carrying a child, weren’t you? I’m so sorry, love. It was very early days. Were you even sure? You hadn’t mentioned it to me. Was Paul upset? I’m sure he won’t hold it against you. He . . .”

“He knows?”

“I assume he must. The doctor would have told him first.” The duchess frowned. “Why? Has he not mentioned the matter to you?”

Even as she shook her head, Lucky realized that Paul hadn’t said a word about her being pregnant or not. “He only came in for a few minutes to assure himself that I was feeling better. We didn’t really have time to talk.”

She hoped that was true; although she had a sneaking suspicion that Paul would never bring the matter up again. He’d probably assumed that if there had been a child it wasn’t his and reacted accordingly. And it was her fault. She’d promised to be honest. She’d lied not only to Paul but to herself by choosing to ignore the possibility of being pregnant and worrying more about Jeremy than about her own husband and marriage.