Page 78 of The Duchess in His Bed
Chapter 21
Too many days later to count, Selena languidly stretched in her bed. Glancing over, she imagined how glorious it would be to be greeted by the sight of Aiden each morning, to see him unshaven, unkempt, his hair sticking out in all directions, his slow smile just before he reached for her and tucked her beneath his powerful body. She doubted very much that he would adhere to the nobility’s practice of the husband and wife sleeping in separate bedchambers. No, he would hold her as she slept, his body warming her, his hand cradling her breast, just as he’d done at Sheffield Hall.
That night seemed so long ago now because so many nights had followed, nights when she’d gone to him. She’d thought of asking him to come to her, but it would not do at all for her sisters to discover him visiting, which they no doubt would because she and Aiden lost in the throes of passion was not a quiet thing. She kept expecting their joining to shift into a staid and boring routine. But beneath his hands she turned to kindling, beneath his body she became enflamed.
When the knock sounded, she pushed herself upright and settled back against the pillows. Early in her marriage, she’d gotten into the habit of taking her breakfast in bed because that was the manner in which a proper duchess began her day. Although at present, she was anything except a proper duchess. Still, as Bailey walked in carrying a tray laden with dishes, Selena fought to give the appearance of one.
Bailey set the tray over Selena’s lap, went about fluffing up the pillows behind her, then wandered over to the windows and threw open the draperies with a dramatic flourish, as she liked nothing more than letting in the day.
Selena lifted a lid to reveal buttered eggs, their aroma causing her stomach to grow a bit queasy. Deciding she wasn’t in the mood for them, she covered them back up. Toast and jam appealed.
“Let Wiggins know that I’ll need the carriage at half one. My sisters and I will be going out this afternoon for a charitable endeavor.” Fancy’s shop would be opening this evening with a grand party. They couldn’t attend that, naturally, but Fancy had invited them to a private celebration with her family before the main event. It was unlikely they’d be seen by anyone they knew—other than Trewlove family members, of course.
With her brow furrowed and her hands clasped in front of her, her maid came to stand at the foot of the bed. “I don’t know that they’ll be up to it, Your Grace. The girls are having their monthly unwellness.”
Selena went still, so still, it was a wonder she continued to draw in breath. As incredible as it seemed, she and her sisters had always been on the same schedule when it came to the curse. They were like well-tuned clockwork, a vicious headache coming upon them before the painful cramps arrived. They always spent the first day or so abed, bemoaning God’s punishment upon them. “When did their menses begin?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“All three of them?”
“Yes, ma’am. As always. I prepared some rags for you, though mayhap you won’t be needin’ them?”
The last two words were spoken in a high pitch as though her maid feared that even a hint of her possibly carrying the heir would prevent it from being true. Although her servant knew when her last menses had ended, still the innocent woman held out hope that even though his health had been failing, the duke had managed to rise to the challenge and do his duty one last time. It was that absurd belief that Selena had planned to exploit if she managed to get herself with child.
The possibility now loomed and yet—
She could think of a hundred reasons why her sisters were presently suffering and she wasn’t. The stress of becoming a widow, of mourning, had blocked her flow. She wasn’t spending as much time with her sisters, and so they’d fallen out of their rhythm. She was so occupied, fairly obsessed with her time with Aiden, that she’d somehow conveyed to her body that it should do nothing to prevent her from seeing him every night—and that included any hint of a monthly bleeding.
Or she could be with child.
His child. Aiden’s.
She closed her eyes, fought back tears for everything it would mean. The joy that his babe might be growing inside her. Dark-haired, dark-eyed. Strong-jawed. Tiny hands and feet that would grow into larger ones.
Sadness because Aiden wouldn’t be with her when the child was born. That his moments with his progeny would be short and infrequent.
As her body began swelling, she would have to stop going to the club. She couldn’t risk being seen there in her condition. If some of his customers were hinting that they thought he’d taken a mistress, it wouldn’t do at all for them to realize that mistress was pregnant. Even if they weren’t sure it was her, if it caused the tiniest of speculations—she couldn’t risk their association being discovered.
They would have to make other accommodations.
The price of what they’d done suddenly seemed far too high. When she had set out on this mission, she hadn’t expected to fall in love.
She arrived at the bookshop without her sisters. She’d considered sending a missive with their regrets, but in the end, she wanted to see the shop all put together, wanted to see Aiden in a setting other than a bedchamber.
After much thought, she decided she couldn’t be certain she was with child. She would give it another week, perhaps two, before calling upon her physician to solicit his opinion on the matter. Then she would decide her course of action.
For now it was enough to see him waiting for her outside the shop, the sight of him always bringing her a kick of joy, joy that increased as he opened the door and closed his fingers around hers, assisting her out of the carriage. How many times had he handed her up or down? Not nearly enough.
“Is something amiss? You seem a bit pale.”
“I’m perfectly fine. My sisters are unwell, however. They send their regrets.”
Concern narrowed his eyes. “Is it contagious?”
“No. They’ll be right as rain in a day or so. Can we take a stroll through your sister’s shop now?”
“By all means.” He tucked her hand within the crook of his elbow. The familiarity of it after such a short time was astounding.
