Page 31 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
When he’d returned to the Hall, his mother and Elizabeth were waiting just inside and rushed to him as soon as he entered. He’d pulled Elizabeth into his arms and buried his face in her hair, steadying himself until he had enough strength to withdraw and tell them what had happened.
After that, it was like a light dimmed in Elizabeth. It had happened so gradually that he didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until one day she simply refused to get out of bed.
During the years of their marriage prior to his father’s death, Elizabeth hadn’t fallen pregnant. It didn’t seem to bother her because they were young and there was no rush to produce an heir. But as soon as Theo became Viscount Blackwell, that changed.
With each successive monthly flow, Elizabeth’s melancholy grew.
She became less and less the woman he’d fallen in love with. She obsessed over her ability—or lack thereof—to bear his children.
It didn’t help that some unpleasant members of the community made it known that they thought she had gotten above her station and that she ought to at least have the decency to produce an heir.
It crushed her spirit.
Then, one fateful day, he’d lost her.
It almost would have made more sense for her to slip away unnoticed, as she seemed to have been slowly fading from existence, erasing herself from her own life, but instead, she left with all the impact of an explosion, upending his life entirely.
He’d never expected to bury his wife. At least not for many, many years. He’d stood there, numb, as they lowered her casket into the ground. The second funeral in his family in less than two years.
She was buried in the family plot, to which Mr. and Mrs. Norman had protested. They’d believed she ought to be buried at the church. They’d blamed him, as they rightly should, but he hadn’t been able to let her go, even in death.
Now, he pictured her as she’d been those last few days, her features gaunt because she’d stopped eating, her eyes hollow.
“It’s your fault,” she whispered in his mind.
Maybe it really was.
CHAPTER 10
“Areyou sure you want to do this?” Amelia asked as Margaret tugged a hairbrush through the length of Kate’s hair.
Kate met her sister-in-law’s gaze in the mirror. “I want to at least try to get to know Lord Blackwell. Perhaps the rumors are wildly untrue, and he would make a suitable husband.”
Margaret began gathering the strands of Kate’s hair and twining them together into a braid around the crown of her head. Kate flinched as she pulled one a little too hard.
Amelia pursed her lips. “Andrew and I will stand by you, whatever you decide to do.”
George flailed about in her arms, and she lowered him onto the floor and watched as he wobbled to his feet and tottered toward the bed.
“Thank you. That’s better than I deserve.” She’d made a royal mistake when she’d pretended to trip and fall into Lord Blackwell’s arms. There was no one else to blame for this situation but herself, and she was lucky that her family was being so considerate.
Margaret tied the end of the braid and pushed a jeweled hairpin through to keep it in place. She smoothed the back ofKate’s hair and then reached for a hot iron to curl the strands that hung loose around her face.
Kate sat very still even though she was aware of Amelia and George playing behind her. If she moved at the wrong moment, the hot iron would burn her cheek.
“What adventures are currently on Miss Joceline’s horizon?” she asked Amelia, inquiring after the fictional character her sister-in-law had created. Amelia’s first novel had been printed last year, and another one was soon to follow.
Amelia stopped George from pulling one of the drawers open and hefted him into the air, her expression easing. “Joceline has been sent to Russia to marry a prince. She was mistaken for a missing noblewoman and hasn’t been able to figure out how to escape yet. Her companions will be most unhappy when they discover her true identity.”
Kate grinned. “Joceline always gets herself into the most interesting situations.”
When she’d first met Amelia, Kate had thought that perhaps she herself hungered for adventure, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that Amelia preferred her adventures to happen between the pages of the book. That suited Kate, as she was much the same, enjoying the comforts of home too much to be interested in real-life adventure.
Margaret released Kate’s hair and tugged on the end of one curl, smiling to herself when it bounced.
“I’m debating whether Joceline ought to have a suitor,” Amelia said, perching on the edge of the bed and resting a fussy George on her lap. He caught her necklace and studied it as if it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “He’d have to be a dashing sort, but I can’t decide whether it would be best to give her a fellow adventurer or perhaps a pirate or some kind of nobleman who wants to save her but doesn’t realize that she is perfectly capable of saving herself.”
“Why not introduce one of each and see which character has the best chemistry with her?” Kate suggested.
