Page 91 of Passions of a Wicked Earl
She started to weep. Without thinking, he crawled onto the bed and folded her into his arms as sobs shook her body. He’d never known such pain, to see her shattering like this. His usually bold and determined wife, her heart breaking. He covered the back of her head with his hand, held her close, murmured reassurances. He was barely aware of Stephen slipping from the room.
He almost called him back, almost told him that it was Stephen she needed—but she’d called to him, had held out her hand to him. He could no more let her go now than he could cease to breathe.
Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms, exhaustion and weakness from her ordeal claiming her. He was awash in regret as he found a maid to see to his wife’s needs and sent another servant to fetch the physician.
Once he was assured that his wife would recover, he collapsed on his bed.
It had been two days since Claire had wept in Westcliffe’s arms. Since then, he came into her bedchamber every morning to ask after her health, but other than that, she hadn’t seen him. They were back to being strangers, and she was once again exiled from his heart.
Now sitting at a small table enjoying the light breeze of the afternoon, Claire sipped her tea. It seemed she had another ticklish spot. Her scalp, as the wind fluttered the short strands. She touched them self-consciously. She would need some new hats.
She was thinking of such silly things so she didn’t have to contemplate the loss of the baby. She’d already come to love him, already missed him.
She glanced up and smiled as Stephen sat beside her.
“I think Westcliffe has recovered sufficiently that we can begin our journey back to London today,” he said.
“Westcliffe—recovered? From what?” she repeated.
“I don’t think he slept from the moment he received the missive that you’d taken a tumble. Made himself ill.”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t think he cared any longer.”
Stephen twisted in his chair and took her hand. “Sweetheart, why do you think I’m here? He forced me to come. In your delirium, you were calling for me, and he feared only my presence would save you.”
“I don’t remember. I remember thinking … before I fell from the horse … that I needed to speak with you. Why were you in the conservatory that night at Lady Anne’s?”
“She’d come to see me a few days before and issued an invitation for a private party in her conservatory. Said she thought it would be fun to have an intimate party with me while another party was going on in her residence.”
“I think she arranged for you to meet with me instead. I’d been dancing with Lord Lynnford. When the dance ended, before we could leave the floor, a servant said he had a message for me. So I followed him. He told me Lord Westcliffe had bid me to meet him in the conservatory.”
“Did you tell Westcliffe?”
“No, I didn’t think he’d believe me. I had no proof. I’m fairly certain she arranged everything to ruin things for us.”
“She succeeded.”
She nodded. “I don’t know where we’ll go from here.” She glanced back at the house.
“He loves you, Claire.”
She laughed bitterly, trying not to think about the tenderness with which he’d held her while she cried after learning she’d lost the child. “No, I think not.”
“He rode to London to find me—in the storm. He looked like bloody hell. When we got here, he wouldn’t let me leave that chair. He didn’t see to his own needs until he was certain you were all right. He does care for you, Claire.”
“He doesn’t trust me. He wouldn’t even listen that night at Lady Anne’s.”
“God, Claire, what was he to think? He found us together on his wedding night. And then to see us together again? I can’t blame him for what he thought.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t believe what we did on your wedding night. I knew your reputation would be safe because his pride would prevent him from telling anyone, but I hadn’t anticipated that he’d fill his nights with other women. That was incredibly unfair to you.”
She was torn between laughing and crying. “Perhaps deserved. We were so stupid.”
“You trusted me, and I—”
She gave him a wry smile. “Your plan worked.”
“A little too well I think.”
Reaching out, she held his hand. “I’ve missed you. Why didn’t you let me know you were in London?”
