Terri Brisbin (15 page)

“Just a few questions of the duchess before we continue.”

Miranda nodded. This had such a different tone than the earlier appointment, and Adrian wondered how she would handle its demands.

“Your mother is alive?”

“No, she died when I was three.”

“Childbirth, then?”

Miranda paused and shook her head. “Consumption.”

“Are you her only child?”

“Yes, I was born a year after her marriage, and then she became ill.”

“Consumption related to reproduction is not uncommon at all.” He frowned and looked at Miranda. “How old were you when your cycles began?”

Adrian shifted uncomfortably. The doctor’s manner offered no reassurance or softness in his tone or questions, and his process seemed to have none of the structure and logic that Mrs. James had used in hers. But Miranda answered.

“I was fifteen years old.”

“Your most recent one ended when?”

Although she blinked in surprise, she answered, “Three weeks ago.”

“Dr. Blake,” Adrian interrupted.

“Well, thank you, Your Grace,” Dr. Blake said, rising and nodding to Miranda. “That will be all.”

Finding the doctor’s actions brusque almost to the point of rudeness, Adrian stood in turn. “Dr. Blake, I do not think that—”

Interrupting again, the doctor nodded to Miranda. “Let us allow the duchess to retire and we will discuss this matter.” A barely noticeable bow accompanied the order.

Now it was Adrian’s turn to be astonished. Or not. He’d found before that physicians tended to ignore the
patient involved when discussing their diagnoses or plans. The fact that Blake would discuss it with the patient’s husband should be no surprise.

“Allow me to meet with the doctor, my dear.” Adrian held out his hand to her and escorted her to the door. She was shaking, but Adrian was positive that was not due to nervousness but anger. “I will call you when he is gone.”

She left without a word and he turned to find the doctor already seated. Apparently renowned physicians needed no good manners in their repertoire of behavior. Adrian walked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy.

“I find that women are such emotional creatures it is far better to continue such discussions without their presence. Their delicate natures cannot tolerate such things.”

Blake could not have been speaking about Miranda. Yes, she was emotional, but she was courageous and bold and steely when she needed to be. Hell, Adrian had no doubt that he was alive because of her ability to take control when she needed to. He cleared his throat and brought his attention back to the doctor.

“When did you marry, Your Grace?”

“The duchess and I have been married for just over seven years.” Adrian waited for the next question.

“And you conduct marital relations?”

“Yes.” He swallowed another mouthful of brandy.

“Have you any injuries of a certain nature that would preclude you from producing children?”

“None. Although I do have allergic—”

Dr. Blake raised a hand to stop him from saying any more. With great effort, the man stood. “The duchess, I fear, is barren.”

“Barren? On what do you base that diagnosis?”

“Her history is perfectly clear in this matter—her mother died of reproductive consumption, the duchess was abnormally late in coming into womanhood and seven years without conception.”

Miranda had not said her mother’s death was related to her giving birth. And was fifteen truly too old? Did that indicate a problem? “But, Doctor—” Adrian began.

With a hand in the air, Dr. Blake stopped him once more. “I know that this is difficult news to accept, Your Grace. However, it is my professional opinion that she will never bear children. I will leave it to you, as her husband, to convey this unfortunate news to her. If I can be of service to you on any other matter, please contact me at once.”

Adrian could not believe the speed with which the man could vacate a room. He offered his pronouncement and then was gone.

Sherman came to close the door and asked if His Grace had need of anything. Shaking his head, Adrian walked to the window and stared out.

Still reeling over the doctor’s manner and his words, he wondered where the truth lay for him and Miranda. If the midwife was to be believed, they needed only time to solve the problem, and that was something he did not
have. If the physician was correct, time would not matter. Either way was a hopeless one for him.

“That bad?” she asked from behind him. “I tried to be the good wife and wait for your call, but the anticipation was too great.”

He turned and pulled her into his arms, needing to feel her there, against his heart. They stood quietly for some minutes before he lifted his head and kissed her forehead.

“You are a good wife, Miranda, never doubt that,” he whispered.

“I was surprised to have their differences be so marked, Adrian. And I confess that I am relieved Dr. Blake did not examine me.” She stepped away and sat on the couch, sliding to one side to make room for Adrian. “Sit and tell me, although I suspect I already know.”

“He believes that you are…” He could not say the word. Even if he made himself not think it true, the word was so powerful.

“Barren,” she said. “I expected that.” Her voice was filled with sadness. “And do you think he is correct?”

“I would like to believe that Mrs. James’s assessment is the correct one,” he said, even though it offered him only slightly more hope than the doctor’s. Of course, if he was successful in his efforts to set up a new life for her, Miranda might yet have the joy of a child with her next husband.

That hurt, though he wanted her to be happy, the possibility that she would be that way with someone else was terribly difficult to accept.

“And we have no way of knowing who is right.” She leaned against him. “I had hoped for more than this.”

“Well, Miranda, let us look at this logically, although the good doctor doubts in a woman’s ability to do so.” He smiled, and she smiled back. “If Dr. Blake is right, there is nothing to be done. If Mrs. James is correct, we need do nothing that we are not already doing.”

They spent a time just sitting together, each lost in their own thoughts, hopes and dreams. Why did all the important things not matter until they were lost to you? Why had he not taken advantage of the years they’d had together? So much time gone and there was no telling how much might be left to them.

That night, when he took her into his bed, he loved her as though it was their last time together on this earth. With a despair he’d not felt before, he searched for that elusive place in her arms and emptied himself into her willing heart and womb. The prayer, one of a man desperately in love with his wife, and one whose time was running out, was the same.

For Miranda.

For Miranda.

“S
ir Thomas, it is so nice to you again. Lady Marsh has quite the crush here tonight!” Miranda offered her hand to the barrister as he stepped closer after Adrian presented him.

“It is that, Your Grace. At least the weather has given us a bit of a cooling off.”

Sir Thomas Brown, recently knighted by the Regent for services to the Crown, was a tall man, nearing forty. His eyes twinkled in the light of hundreds of candles and he smiled at something Adrian said. Miranda tried to listen, but the noise of those around her made it difficult. She leaned closer.

“Are you staying in town for the rest of Season?” she asked.

“Yes, Your Grace. This is my daughter’s first one and I am trying to muddle through it.”

She now remembered two more things about him—
she’d met his daughter, a delightful young woman, at an afternoon musicale that she’d attended with Miss Stevenson, and he’d recently completed the expected mourning for the death of his wife.

“Your daughter—Cassandra, is it not?—has such a talent on the flute. And it must be so difficult handling this on your own,” she murmured, touching his arm. “Sir Thomas, you have my condolences.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, nodding in acceptance.

Just as she was about to draw Adrian back into the conversation, the majordomo announced dinner, and it was time to eat.

“My dear, I see someone who has just arrived that I need to speak with. Sir Thomas, would you be so kind as to escort Her Grace into dinner?” Adrian peered over the crowd toward the doors leading to the entryway.

“It would be my honor, Your Grace.” Sir Thomas bowed and offered his arm.

“Windmere? Are you certain?” she asked.

He kissed her hand and smiled. “I apologize for this, but I really must go. My thanks, Sir Thomas, for stepping into the breach for me.”

He disappeared into the crowd, which moved toward several adjoining rooms set with a number of small tables, rather than one very large, formal dining area. It made things more casual, Miranda decided, as, after filling their plates at the extensive buffet, they were led by the butler to a table.

Her initial concern when she saw that they were
seated alone vanished as Sir Thomas entertained her with stories of his home in Devonshire and as they commiserated over the experiences of chaperoning young women through the social chaos known as the Season. Although she looked for Adrian, he did not return to the dining rooms nor to the ball.

When Sir Thomas asked her to dance, she did, all the while watching for her husband. Quite a pleasant man, and a gentleman, he walked with her until they located Lady Allendale and released her into her friend’s company. For the fourth time in two weeks, Adrian had gone off without her.

Parker came back into the small parlor and closed the door behind him.

“Lock it, if you please,” Adrian said.

“Done,” his friend said. Sitting down across the table from him, he nodded. “And done.”

“They were talking?”

“Yes. And things seemed very friendly between them.”

“And the table?”

Parker scowled at this question. “I made certain that the butler seated them at the smallest table for two, as you directed.” He stood and walked over to the paintings hanging on one wall. “I cannot say I like this, Windmere. Is it truly necessary?”

“As I told you, I want to see which of them she favors.”

“I still think you should simply tell her the truth about this…about you. You told me how Dr. Blake’s at
titude angered you, and now you are treating her in the same manner, making this decision for her.”

Adrian shook his head. “I do not think it is time.”

“Not time? I will be telling the tearful widow over your coffin by the time you decide it is time!” Parker turned and glared at him. “She is your greatest hope and your greatest help, Adrian. Give her the truth and let her be on your side for this. Who knows what can happen?”

“I know what will happen,” he said, gritting his teeth. “She will suffer the pain of knowing. I do not fool myself into believing that she loves me, but I know she will feel some loss at my death.”

Parker stared at him unmoving for a moment and then burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that it caused him to double over at the waist. And still he laughed. A few minutes later, he wiped at his eyes and pointed at Adrian.

“You are as blind as a stump, my friend, if you think she does not love you.”

“I do not want her to love me,” he countered. “It…it is not fair…” He stopped, unable to explain all the things that rampaged through his mind and his heart when he thought of the short time they had left.

“She loves you, Adrian, as you love her. Any fool can see it when you look at each other or talk together. Now tell her,” he said, walking over to stand in front of him, “so that every precious moment you have left to you is not wasted. Do not lose this time.” Will held out his hand and Adrian took it, shaking it.

“When did you become such a philosopher?” he asked, surprised at the depth of understanding from a man not yet acquainted with the married state.

“Apparently while attending the endless discussions of classic literature and history and philosophy that Miss Stevenson seems to find so interesting.”

“Oh? So that is the way of it, then?” He smiled at something that had been foregone in his own mind for many weeks. “Is there an offer in the works? Or does she not return your tender feelings?”

Parker looked as though he would throw a punch at him, but scowled instead. “She and I have an understanding, Adrian. We have spoken of it and Juliet, Miss Stevenson, wishes to enjoy the rest of the Season before making any announcements.”

“And does my mother know yet?”

“Um…no.”

“Wise of you both. Make your plans, then inform the dowager.”

“Listen to me,” Will said, lowering his voice. “Talk to the duchess. Tell her the truth. Live this time you have together to the fullest.”

“I will think on it.”

“Adrian, please?”

“I will think on it.”

He could tell that Parker wanted to continue the argument, but his friend stepped down and, with a quiet farewell, went off to see if it was time for his dance with Miss Stevenson.

Adrian followed a few minutes later. He stood near the top of the steps leading out of the ballroom and watched Miranda dance with Sir Thomas. She wore her hair piled on top of her head, with a few long curls following the contours of her neck. The gown, cut fashionably low and exposing far too much of the slopes of her bosom, set off her complexion and eyes to perfection. When she laughed at something Sir Thomas said while they made their way through the steps of the dance, Adrian’s heart seemed to stutter.

As the dance came to an end and he observed her laughing and enjoying herself, he knew he could not approach her now. Not until he’d made a decision about how they would live the next few months, the last few months of his life, if the doctors were correct.

Adrian found his way out and took his carriage to his club. After several hours of mindless card games and chatter with friends, he went home, still unsure about disclosing the truth to her. But when he stood at the end of her bed, watching her sleep, he knew what he had to do.

“I am telling you, Sophie. It is the strangest thing and it is true.”

“Come now, Miranda. Why would he do something like that?”

Miranda leaned nearer the window and watched the carriages roll down the street. Peering past the drapes, she tapped her foot, trying to make sense of it. “I do not
understand it, but I assure you that I know when I am being foisted on someone else.”

“Foisted? Oh, Miranda!” Sophie said, laughing now. “I have this image in my mind now of you being handed bodily from one gentleman to another. Picture the quadrille, where instead of moving through the steps, the gentlemen pass you down the rows, one end to the other!”

Miranda could not help but smile now that she could imagine the same scene in her mind. “Making light of this is not answering my concerns.”

“Sit down and let us try to reason through it, then.”

She turned away from the window and nodded. Sitting across from Sophie, she thought about the chain of events that had her so confused.

“When was the first time you think this happened?”

“About three—no, four weeks ago.”

“And Windmere left you in the company of another man?”

“No, it is more than that, Sophie. He retrieved the gentleman, brought him to me, made certain we were acquainted and chatting, and then left on some pretext or another of being needed elsewhere.”

“Oh, la! Now I can see Windmere like a hunting dog, sniffing out his quarry, dragging them to you and dropping them at your feet.”

“I did not recognize your quaint sense of humor before, Sophie,” she said a bit sharply. “I am sorry, but you do not seem to be taking this with as much seriousness as I’d hoped.”

“Miranda, I do apologize. I did not get much rest last night and it feels as though the most random things occur to me when I am tired.”

She reached over and touched Sophie’s hand. “Are you unwell? Is it the…your condition?”

“I believe it is related. I have the strangest urgings and cravings at this point in the pregnancy. Last time, it was strawberry jam. I wanted strawberry jam at the oddest hours and on the strangest foods. I drove Cook mad trying to keep enough on hand to meet my requirements. I swore the baby would be born holding a scone smothered in jam.”

“That would have been a sight to see, Sophie. But I am certain that Mrs. James would handle it without hesitation.”

Lord Allendale walked by the open door of the drawing room at that moment and paused to look in.

“Your Grace,” he said, nodding to her. “My dear,” he said to Sophie, gifting his wife with a very wicked smile. He left as quickly as he’d arrived, and Miranda turned back to her friend.

“And this time? What do you crave this time?”

“Not what,” Sophie whispered. Looking around, she leaned over and continued, “Whom.”

“Whom? Whom do you crave?” Miranda said the words before she realized the meaning. “Oh, Sophie!” she exclaimed as she now recognized the smile on Lord Allendale’s face. She could feel her own face blushing with heat. She laughed. “Hence the lack of rest?”

“Just so.” Sophie reached up and tucked a loose lock of hair back into the pin holding it, and smiled. “And it is so much more enjoyable than strawberry jam.”

Unable to believe that Sophie had revealed such a thing to her, Miranda laughed again. “Can we discuss my problem now or should I allow you to find your husband?”

“I will try to focus.” She took a breath and let it out slowly. “There now, tell me again how many times this has happened?”

“Six. At two balls, one afternoon musicale, two dinners and once in our box at the theater.”

Sophie frowned. “And gentlemen all?”

“Two knights of the Empire, two barons and twice with the same earl. Peers and gentlemen.”

“This is peculiar,” she said. “And you had made the acquaintance of all of these men before this happened?”

“Yes. At some point in the last month, Windmere introduced them to me or had them introduced to me.”

“Very strange indeed.”

“The strangest part is that they were all on the list of men that the dowager asked Windmere to review as potential matches for Miss Stevenson.”

Sophie stood and walked to the tray on the sideboard. She might not be craving strawberry jam, but she did seem hungry much more often than usual. Picking out a few pieces of sliced cake and fruit, she offered some to Miranda.

“Another regrettable consequence of breeding, Miranda. Constant hunger…for food.” She came back and
sat down. “Do you think that might be the reason? Perhaps he is looking for your opinion before considering their offers for Miss Stevenson?”

“No, that cannot be it. All one has to do is watch Lord Parker and Miss Stevenson at the same event to know where the true offer will come from.”

“You said his name was on the dowager’s list?”

“He was. And he is usually somewhere close by when Windmere leaves. Most of the times when it has happened, he is the one who calls Windmere aside.”

“So he is involved in this somehow?” Sophie asked.

“I believe so, or at least his actions would seem to implicate him.”

“This is indeed very strange.”

Miranda felt thirsty now so she helped herself to some tea. She knew what she needed to do; she was simply looking for Sophie’s concurrence on her course of action. Her patience for Adrian’s avoidance was at an end. Their relationship had come so very far from where it was back in the spring that she would not allow this situation to continue.

“You know what you must do, do you not, Miranda?” Sophie asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“I am here as your friend. You know that.”

“I do, Sophie. You cannot know how much I appreciate having you as a friend.”

Miranda finished her tea and smoothed her gown over her lap. “Now?”

“I see no reason to delay further.”

“Absolutely.”

Both women rose to their feet. But before she let her go, Sophie threw her arms around Miranda and hugged her tightly.

There was nothing else for them to say, and Miranda wanted to return home as quickly as possible to resolve this. Adrian had canceled several appointments to stay at home, so she knew where to find him.

The carriage ride those few blocks were the longest of her life as she picked and chose which words she would use to broach the subject with her husband. After a few tries under her breath so that Fisk would not hear, she decided on an opening.

They arrived at Warfield Place and she walked into the foyer when Sherman opened the door. As Fisk took her hat and her bag to return them to her room, Miranda asked, “Sherman, is His Grace still at home?”

The butler’s glance toward the study gave away the answer. She started for the door, but he reached it first. “May I announce you, Your Grace?”

“There is no need, Sherman.”

He did not move quite as quickly as she wanted, so she stepped around him and opened the door herself. Adrian stood by the window.