Seventeen #2
“How?” she asked, her throat closing.
“In the only way women have been strong for centuries. You were a warrior’s woman. You must think of what he would want you to do.”
“I can think of nothing other than how much this hurts.” Her mind was finally realizing the terrible reality of his loss. “If he was alive, he would have come for me,” she said. “I know he would have. Your Grace, I don’t think I can go on. It’s as if my soul is being ripped in two.”
The duke kneeled on the floor in front of her. “Constance,” he said sternly, forcing her to listen to him, “I know this conversation is not easy. The question would be better coming from your sisters, and yet, they fear upsetting you. They think it best I do so. Then they can console you.”
“What question do they want to ask that they fear how I would react?”
“Have you thought that you could be with child? Gordon’s child?”
His words were a dousing of cold water. She shook her head. “I couldn’t be.”
“It’s too soon to tell,” he replied. “But your sisters say there are signs. There is the possibility, is there not?”
A child? She’d not considered such a thing. But now…?
It could be possible. She’d been so busy at the camp, and then with Gordon, she hadn’t thought about the dates. She wasn’t even certain what the dates were anymore. Time had ceased to have meaning.
She placed her hand on her belly. “How soon does one know?”
“Miranda said that she felt a change in her attitude almost immediately.”
Constance searched herself. “I have no idea.” She shook her head. “I’ve been sad.” It felt strange to speak openly to this man, and yet there was a kindness about him. An empathy. “You knew Gordon. You liked him.”
“I admired him very much,” the duke answered without hesitation. “I want you to think on this—Gordon was the last of his line. That child you could be carrying would be important to him. You have a responsibility to care for that wee one. To see him safe.”
Constance forced herself to sit upright. She combed her fingers through her hair, realizing how she’d let herself go. Nor could she imagine herself with child. She didn’t know what she was expected to feel…or even if she could trust this concern on the duke’s part.
A certainty came over her. A knowing as completely mad as one of Maggie’s fits. “He’s still alive,” she said, wanting it to be true.
Still kneeling, Colster shrugged before gently saying, “Even if he is, Constance, he is a wanted man in England. You’ve been shut away from all of this, but right now his name is in every paper.
It was the kidnapping that made him infamous.
He’s called too much attention to himself to be safe on these shores. ”
“I don’t suppose I’m infamous, too?” There was bitterness in her voice.
“There are those who know,” the duke said.
“Phillip has done what he can to keep your name out of the papers in any form.” When she frowned at Phillip’s name, he said, “I know you don’t trust him, but Phillip isn’t a bad sort.
He may have let his temper have the best of him over your sisters, but Charlotte has him completely wrapped around her finger.
My brother loves your sister very much. He would not do anything to harm you. ”
His brow creased with concern as he said, “However, if Gordon were alive, if he were to come for you, he’d risk hanging. The government would have no choice.”
“What about the others? The rest of the clan? Are they not as guilty?”
“Gordon was the instigator. The rebellion at Nathraichean would have ended months ago save for him. If he did escape,” he said, meeting Constance’s gaze, “he’d best not be in the country.”
But he would be alive. And for her, that was enough.
“I only knew him almost two weeks,” she murmured. She frowned. “I know what Charlotte is going to say. She’ll think me odd for having fallen so completely, so utterly, in love.”
His Grace laughed. “She has no room to talk, lass. She’s in love with my brother.” He turned serious. “I love my wife very much, and yes, it came upon me in less time than a week. One day I was alone, and the next my world was filled with her. Heart and mind.”
“Yes,” Constance agreed, understanding exactly what he meant. “I didn’t even like Gordon when I first met him.”
“Ah, well, that’s true of everyone who meets Gordon.” She knew he was teasing, understood then that he’d known this man well. That’s why Gordon had listened when the duke spoke to him in private that fateful day at the ruins.
“I wish I’d returned with him,” she whispered.
He sobered immediately. “We’re glad you didn’t. Who knows what your fate would be…or the fate of that bairn you might be carrying? Gordon didn’t want anything but the very best for you. I saw the look on his face when he made his choice. He loved you, lass.”
Her eyes burned at tears she blinked back. She’d spent enough time on sorrow. Now, she had to be brave. “What should I do?” she asked.
He took her hand. “Something that will be very hard,” he answered. “The family has talked, and for all his faults, my brother’s suggestions make sense. Even my wife agrees.”
“Suggestions of what sort?”
The humor left his eyes. In its place was compassion. He knew she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. She curled the fingers of her free hand in the bed sheets. “Go ahead. Tell me,” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.
“They are going to suggest a marriage.”
She noticed his use of they. “You disagree?”
“No, I agree, even if there is not a child. You don’t understand how devastating rumors can be. I hear whispers in my trail wherever I go. It’s not easy for my wife, but our love is strong and we have each other.”
“Whereas I have no one,” she surmised. “And you would want me to marry for what reason? To squelch rumors. It seems a shallow course.”
“Marriages have been made for much less. And I would want a man who can protect you and your child.”
Constance shook her head. “Who would have me? Who would want another man’s child?”
“You are looking at this the wrong way,” the duke said. “You should consider that any man would be lucky to have you.”
“And the child?”
“Yes, him too. Only, time is of the essence, Constance. The man must think the child is his own. You can never let him know the truth.”
His suggestion shocked her. “But that is a lie.”
“No, it’s survival. It’s the only way that child will stand a chance at living a good life.”
“What of the child? Is he never to know his true father’s name?”
“In time, perhaps. If and when you deem it right.”
Constance raised her hands, pressing the heels to her temples as if to shut out such a decision.
The duke stood. “I’ve said enough.” He walked to the door. “Think on it, Constance. It’s your decision to make. I’ll support you whichever way you choose. However,” he said, “I want Lachlan’s son raised well. The blood of Scottish aristocracy will flow in his veins.”
“But my child won’t know if I don’t tell him. He’ll never know his true father’s name. It will be lost to him,” she said softly.
“Yes,” His Grace agreed. “However, no door will be closed to him. He’ll not be a bastard…unless that is what you want for him. And someday we may be able to tell him. When that time comes, we’ll be certain he knows what a fine, noble man his father was.”
He turned the door handle. “I’ll have another tray sent up with more broth and perhaps something of more substance. You’ve been dealt a blow, lass, but if you truly cared for Lachlan, you’ll do what you must to see his bairn safe. Think on it. In your heart you will know what to do.” He left.
The room suddenly seemed very cold and empty. Constance reached for the tartan she’d kept close at hand and put it around her shoulders. A baby. A bairn, she amended.
For a second she was filled with joy.
And then overwhelmed by doubts. A part of her wanted to believe she’d imagined their whole conversation.
He’d suggested an arranged marriage.
She didn’t have the courage.
Getting out of bed, Constance walked across the room to the window. It overlooked a garden in the back of the house. She rested her head against cold, hard glass, staring out at the twilight. Gordon couldn’t be dead. She was certain she would know if he was.
Or was it that she missed him so much, she wanted to believe he lived? If there was any hope at all, shouldn’t she embrace it? Or was she denying cold, hard reality?
Her answer was to break down in tears. Sobs wracked her body until she doubled over.
She didn’t try and fight them. She didn’t fight tears anymore. Gordon had taught her how to cry.
The door to the bedroom flew open and in seconds both Charlotte and Miranda threw their arms around her.
This time Constance didn’t push them away.
This time she held them close, at last, letting them share her grief.