Page 65 of Legacy of Succession

EPILOGUE

VICTORIA

“How long is this thing supposed to take?” I look toward my best friend Tamara while she sits on the bed swinging her legs.

“It says five minutes.”

“That’s far too long.” I pull on the ends of my vibrant red hair, due to nerves.

“You’ve got five minutes to spare. Remember the thing about having a whole life ahead of you.” She tuts at me.

“That might be about to change.”

It’s been a month since the day the old Duke of Oakfield died, much has happened in the interim. I’m not sure that I’ve processed it all yet. Nicholas was rushed from the castle in Scotland to a hospital with barely even a faint pulse. William and I sat by his bedside for three long days before he woke. He’d lost so much blood that his body had started to shut down. The doctors had given him a transfusion and put him into an induced coma to recover. I don’t know what happened with the Duke, the Bishop, and Elizabeth Sandford’s bodies. William disappeared for a while and told me that he’d had someone deal with it all. There’d be no repercussions for anyone. I think it was at this point that I realized just how far above the law the Dukedom of Oakfield is. William had retreated into himself after that. It had taken so much courage for him to leave his home in London. I could tell that all the people who came and went from his brother’s bedside disturbed him. I told him he could return home if he wanted to, but he refused. I didn’t know what was going on in his head although I feared it wasn’t good. He’d killed his own father to save his brother, in addition to his years of anguish and repression. None of that could be erased quickly or easily.

Eventually, Nicholas woke, and we rejoiced. The doctors said there should be no lasting issues with his shoulder, but it would take a while to heal. He’d need physical therapy to rebuild his strength. Nicholas, being the stubborn man he is, told them he’d be fine. Then he promptly spilled the cup of tea they’d given him everywhere, when he tried to lift it with the damaged arm. It was at that point I took control and told him he’d follow the doctor’s orders, or I’d have him strapped to the bed until he agreed. He seemed to like that suggestion far too much because he then promptly called for a priest — we said our vows and consummated our marriage that same day. It wasn’t how I pictured my wedding day, but when I told Tamara about it later, I was sobbing with the beauty of it all. That is what has led me to my current predicament — Tamara and I staring at a little stick I’ve just peed on. I'm unsure how I feel about the result.

I am the Duchess of Oakfield. I shouldn’t worry about being pregnant as my future is secure. It’s more Nicholas’ reaction I’m scared off. This is all still so new for both of us, and the stigma of how we fell in love surrounds us daily. The former Duke’s reaping his own type of torment, even from the grave. Why give us contraceptive injections at all if they were going to be fake? Yes, placebos apparently, another ploy by the Duke to mess with our heads. It was the one piece of information I was able to get out of Doctor Fallen before I told him that he’d better disappear because if Nicholas found him, he’d be dead.

A loud bang on the door makes me jump. The door handle rattles. Tamara gasps and shoves the pregnancy test under my pillow.

“Victoria, why is your door locked?” Nicholas shouts from the other side. “It’s my right as your husband to get into this room whenever I want.”

“He sounds furious,” Tamara whispers.

“He’s just being Nicholas,” I reply and sweep off the bed toward the door. He bangs again before I can turn the key in the lock.

“Open up, now!”

I unlock the door as it almost comes flying off its hinges with the force of his entrance.

“Why was it locked?” he growls and stalks toward me. Nicholas will always be Nicholas. He has an arrogant and bossy side to him, but I love it because it’s counteracted by the softer side he keeps hidden only for William and I. The younger Cavendish brother follows the elder into the room, and I wave at him.

“Me, focus on me,” Nicholas moans.

“Yes, husband,” I counter with a twist of my lips.

“Why was your door locked? Mrs. McDonald said you didn’t eat breakfast this morning. What’s wrong? Who do I need to threaten to fix it?”

I look over at Tamara — William has come to sit next to her on my bed. They smile at each other, and I swear I see Tamara’s cheeks blush. She refocuses her attention on my warring husband, and I shrug.

“Sit down before you hurt yourself,” I direct Nicholas toward a chair. He reluctantly sits. He’s still wearing his arm in a sling, to allow the wound to heal.

“Victoria, talk to me.” His voice softens — I can see the worry in his eyes. I perch on the side of the chair.

“It would seem that the contraceptive injection Dr. Fallen gave me was a placebo.”

“What?” his face whitens.

“You know that we’ve barely left the bedroom since you were discharged from the hospital. Well, it seems that every time we’ve had sex, we’ve been doing it without protection.”

“You're pregnant?” he questions.

“I don’t know for certain.” I look to Tamara, and she pulls the stick out from under my pillow and waves it in the air. “The door was locked because we’re doing a test.”

“You haven’t read the answer?” Nicholas asks.

“I have to wait five minutes.”

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