Page 99 of Surrender to the Earl
“I know about the child you lost.”
She went still, and though the grief was still there, confusion bubbled inside her. “But how …”
“Blythe accidentally told me.”
She felt suddenly cold, as if she were growing distant from her body. “When?” she whispered. “You two were barely speaking when she first came to visit me.”
“Over a week ago,” he answered.
“That’s not what I mean—was it before you suddenly wanted to marry me in truth?”
He didn’t answer, and she didn’t need to see his face to understand the reality. “You only wanted to marry me out of guilt and pity.”
“Audrey, I had already come to admire everything about you. I cannot deny that hearing about your child altered things, but my feelings have continued to grow?—”
“I’m not marrying you,” she said flatly. “My God, I even—gave myself to you! How you must have pitied me.” And she’d been so stupid as to fall in love with him. God, she was a fool. Everyone had tried to warn her, and she’d been so convinced she’d never fall for a man’s lies again.
“I didn’t pity you! I wanted you, Audrey, and you wanted me.”
“But I can’t trust your reasons anymore, Robert. I can’t trustyou.We’ll simply end this now. You gave your pathetic blind widow her scandalous affair.”
“I want more than an affair, Audrey,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. “We deal so well together.”
No words of love, but she couldn’t be surprised. “We both have too much guilt, Robert—you for the death of my husband, and me for whatever I did that caused my child’s death.”
“Whatever you did? My God, Audrey, you learned that your husband had died. The grief?—”
“Grief? I felt little for him after the way he’d treated me. But perhaps I caused my little boy’s death with my terrible fear that they’d take him away from me. My father was horrifiedthat his flawed daughter might give birth to an equally flawed grandchild. My baby was just a thing to him, and when he was born dead—I think they were all relieved. Now you can be relieved, too, for you’ve done enough for me.”
“Audrey, don’t?—”
“I was right all along—only as a single, independent widow will I find even a modicum of happiness. I can’t even trust my own motives where you’re concerned—maybe I was going to useyouto have a baby. God, I can’t take this.” She wouldn’t have been hurt again if she’d never let anyone close—how had Robert made her forget that?
She turned and hurried away, forcing herself not to run. When she reached her bedroom, she couldn’t even have the release of crying. Everything inside her felt so very cold and remote and—dead.
22
Audrey was sitting on the edge of her bed when the door opened. She prayed it would only be Molly, come to help her undress for bed, but she heard Blythe’s cheerful voice. To her ears, it was like raucous screech of a bird, making her wince.
“I told Molly to go to bed, since she’s been dealing with the puppy. I’m here to help.”
And then she must have looked at Audrey, who couldn’t master the emotions necessary to hide her despair.
“Audrey, what’s wrong?” she cried.
When Blythe sat down on the bed beside her, tried to put her arm around her, it was too much. Audrey shook her off and rose to pace.
“Robert knows about my baby,” she said, feeling her despair replaced by anger as she said the words aloud.
Blythe burst into noisy tears. “Don’t blame him—it’s my fault!”
At least she’d admitted it. “Tell me the truth—tell me everything! I cannot take another lie.”
“Oh, Audrey, I didn’t mean to. Robert and I were discussing how the servants seemed to be hiding Louisa’s baby from you,and the truth just … came out.” She blew her nose in a handkerchief. “I had no idea he didn’t know. I’ve been trying so hard to be worthy of your trust, to prove that I’ve grown up. I spent so much of my childhood resenting that you were different, that Father made us treat you that way. You were always so independent, like you never needed us—I wanted to be needed,” she added on a whisper. “I came here thinking I could be of help, even though Father sent me.”
“What are you saying?”
“He thought—he thought you would want to come home, and I was to tell him when you were ready. I was supposed to tell him everything that happened, but I didn’t, I swear. He even sent a letter to the Sanfords with your coachman on that first day, telling them that you were only hurting yourself, and that you should be at home.”
