Chapter 22
MADELEINE
“You should rest, my lady.”
The voice, with the gentle French accent, was Geraldine’s, interrupting the vigil I kept over my sleeping husband. Seated in a chair at his bedside where I had been ever since he had arrived this morning, I turned to find her hovering at the threshold, a look of concern etched on her face.
“I am resting,” I told her. “I’m sitting here by his lordship’s side.”
“Perhaps you will take some sustenance, then,” Geraldine suggested. “Mrs. Dougall said you didn’t break your fast this morning, and it is afternoon now.”
I hadn’t the stomach to eat this morning. I had been fraught. And my fears hadn’t been for naught. My father had proven a dishonorable liar and fired a second shot at Alexander, wounding him. Had his aim been any better…
I shuddered, not able to think of the consequences had my father’s bullet hit its intended mark.
I would have lost my husband. I would have been devastated, weeping on the floor, screaming at the heavens, instead of sitting by a peacefully slumbering Alexander.
I was incredibly thankful that the outcome of the duel had been a mere grazing for the man I loved.
For my father and his injury, I hadn’t spared a thought. He was dead to me.
“My lady,” Geraldine repeated gently. “You must eat.”
I shook my head. “I find that I’m not hungry.”
“For the babe’s sake, if not for your own,” she pressed.
I gently caressed the swell of my stomach. “I will eat later.”
“It isn’t good for the babe, my lady. You must have something, perhaps some honey cakes or a bit of jam and bread. I will fetch you a tray.”
My stomach rumbled.
I relented, nodding. “If you must.”
“I must.” Geraldine dipped into a curtsy before disappearing.
When she had gone, I turned back to Alexander. It hurt my heart to see him brought low. He was so still, so very unlike himself. My sole reassurance was in the steady rising and falling of his broad chest, proof that he was merely resting.
He had been in more danger than I had even known today.
Rage grew within me anew at the knowledge that my father had attempted to kill Alexander.
Did his hatred for me know no bounds? Or had he merely been so intent upon regaining control over my life that he had been willing to do anything to take my husband from me and force me back under his roof?
I would never know, for I had no wish to speak with him ever again.
I reached for Alexander’s hand, which was lying on the counterpane with such serenity. His skin was warm and vibrant, a reminder that he had survived as he had promised he would.
“I am sorry, my love, for calling you names,” I murmured, feeling guilty for my reception of him.
I had been terrified and then relieved and then worried again when I had spied his wound.
He had been in good spirits, however, insisting it was just a scratch, and I had understood at once that the greatest of the danger to him had passed. He would live.
That was the most important thing.
But I would still be breathing much easier when he was awake and smiling at me again and when I knew that no infection had set in.
Geraldine returned then, bearing a tray laden with far more than she had suggested, beaming at me with an encouraging smile. “Here you are, my lady. An assortment from Cook.”
She settled the tray on a table, and I spied sweets and tea. “Thank you, Geraldine.”
“You needn’t thank me, my lady. I am happy to be of some service and comfort.”
I stood from the chair, stretching as I did so. Although I wasn’t heavy with child yet, my small frame meant that I felt the weight of our growing child already, and it was more than I had expected. My back ached from sitting in the chair for so long.
I went to Geraldine and laid a hand on her arm. “You have been so loyal and good, first to my mother, and then to me.”
“It is the least I can do, my lady. Your mother would have wanted me to look after you, and it wasn’t much, but I did as best as I could. I’m pleased to see you settled and contented with the marquess now. Your dear mother would have been happy too.”
I liked to think that my mother would have adored Alexander. I wished the two of them could have met. But fate hadn’t allowed such a meeting.
“I am indeed settled and contented,” I agreed softly, casting another glance at Alexander, who still slept on, unaware of the bustle around him.
“You love his lordship very much, don’t you?”
“I do. He is the first man who has ever shown me kindness and love. My father never did.”
Thoughts of the baron made me frown. He had hurt me for the last time, and I would never allow him to harm Alexander again either.
Geraldine’s countenance shifted. “I think he would have loved you very much, my lady.”
Her words took me by surprise. It took me a moment to realize just what she had said, for it made no sense.
“He would have,” I repeated. “Do you mean if my mother had not died?”
Geraldine looked torn. “I’ve said more than I ought. Forgive me, my lady. You should ask Lord Wheaton when he wakes.”
Before I could ask anything further, she bobbed in a hasty curtsy and left the room.
I stared after her, wondering what she had meant.
My stomach grumbled at me again, so I picked up a honey cake and took a bite, my mind churning with the possibilities of what Geraldine’s cryptic words could have meant. And then suddenly, all at once, the truth sank its claws into me. The honey cake fell from my numb fingers.
Could it be?
ALEXANDER
I woke in the dim of the evening. The windows were open, the breeze drifting through the room.
I blinked in confusion, uncertain as to events I could recall.
My head felt unclear, as if I had imbibed too many brandies over an intense chess game with Edward.
Except my arm didn’t usually feel as if it were on fire.
A noise startled me, and I looked over, meeting my Maddie’s tired gaze.
“Hello, my love,” she whispered. “You are back.”
The evening light cast a glow around her, accentuating her delicate features. She smiled at me, but I could see she had been weeping.
“Come closer, Maddie mine,” I pleaded. “I wish to see you.”
She perched on the mattress, her slight weight hardly making a difference on the thick pad. I reached for her with my good hand, holding her palm in mine. “I am parched,” I whispered.
Maddie lifted the jug, pouring me some water. It was cool and delicious on my dry throat, and I drank deeply. I relaxed back on the pillow and took her hand again.
“I am back. And, despite the baron’s best efforts, alive. I will send him back to his estate, and you will never have to see him again.”
“I was so frightened. I didn’t care what happened to him, but to have lost you…” She trailed off and swallowed. “I could not even bear to think it.”
“I am here and safe. And thanks to your tending me, I will recover fully. Tomorrow, I will be up and ready to face the day.”
A tear splashed on my hand, the drop making my chest ache with repressed emotion.
“I, too, was afraid,” I admitted quietly, sharing with her emotions I could only admit to my wife. “Terrified I would never again see your beautiful face or hold our babe.”
Her startled gaze flew to mine. “Truly? You never showed it.”
“I could not. I refused to let him see I was unsettled. I would not give him that satisfaction. I tried to get him to stop the madness, but he refused.”
“Why does he dislike you?” She paused, her soft voice dropping even lower. “Why does he hate me so much?”
I hesitated, and then she spoke again.
“Geraldine said something to me earlier that caused questions to begin to form in my mind. He is not my father, is he?”
“No, Maddie, he is not.”
“I suspected. I know I certainly wished for it often enough. I searched my features, but there was nothing of him. None of his temperament. Often, I wondered if he had discovered that fact and punished me for it.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “It was nothing you did.”
Briefly, I told her what I had discovered and how. She wasn’t shocked by my words, nodding as I finished.
“How does this make you feel?” I asked.
She sighed. “If I am being truthful—relieved. I feel nothing but loathing for him. Any family feelings I might have had, he beat and starved from me long ago.”
“Never again, my love. You are safe here with me always. And should there come a day I am not here, Edward will ensure you are protected.”
“Please don’t speak of that.”
A low knock on the door interrupted us, and Edward came in.
“Ah, the victor is awake.”
I smiled at his attempt at levity. I met Maddie’s eyes. “My love, might I ask for some sustenance? Something to rid my stomach of the empty ache?”
She slid from the bed. “Of course. I should have thought of that.”
“No. I was enjoying gazing on you and hearing your lovely voice. A whiskey would be a welcome addition. To drink this time and not poured on my arm as a sacrifice.”
She pursed her lips, prepared to say no.
“A small one. It has been a trying day,” I coaxed.
“A small one,” she conceded.
“If you would fetch my valet as well. I require some assistance.”
Edward stepped forward. “Allow me to help, Alexander.”
I was too tired to argue. Maddie leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I shall return with your tray.”
“Let a footman carry it.”
She glided away, her silk skirt drifting along the floor. I admired her carriage and the way her hips moved. The curls framing her face. My cock twitched in my pants, and I was grateful to know all was working. I would show her I was indeed well when we were once again alone.
Edward approached the bed.
“I need the water closet and to get out of these clothes,” I told him. “Give me your flask.”
He pulled one from his jacket and offered it to me. The bite of the liquor was what I needed to face moving. I handed it back to him and, with his aid, stood from the bed. The burn in my arm increased, and I groaned in frustration.
“Remind me not to get shot again.”
“Good plan. Now, let us get this over with, shall we?”
Maddie reappeared a short time later. “Your tray will be here soon.” She looked at my bare chest and arm, frowning. “I want to check the wound.”
I was growing weary, the simple act of undressing and relieving myself almost too much. I nodded, and she efficiently undid the bandage and hummed, sounding pleased.
“It is clean and cool,” she informed me. “I will rewrap it, and Dr. Atwood can check in the morning.” She went to the washstand and wrung out some cloths, returning to the bed and wiping down my face, chest, and arms. She was proficient and quick, and I enjoyed her tender ministrations.
She allowed me to sit in my favorite chair, and I sipped the whiskey and ate the food offered. Edward spoke, filling me in on the day I had slept through. The farmers were doing well, the crops planted. Missives had arrived for me to look over but nothing urgent.
“Tomorrow or the day following will be fine, my lord,” he assured me.
“I will go to the village tomorrow,” I informed him.
“If Barnett is well enough, I will dispatch him back to his own estate. I don’t want him even remotely close to my wife,” I said quietly, watching as Maddie bustled around with Mrs. Dougall.
The bed was changed, fresh water brought in, and a banyan laid out for me.
They conferred in quiet voices, and I stared in wonder at my wife.
“She knows the truth of the baron,” I told Edward, my eyes never leaving her.
“It would appear she has taken the news in stride. She is a strong woman.”
“She has had to be with all she endured.” I paused. “She humbles me.”
“Love can do that,” he mused, causing me to eye him closely.
“Oh? You know this from experience?” I asked.
“Words I have heard.”
I snorted in derision, but he ignored me.
“I wish to find out as much information as possible about her real father,” I informed him in a low voice. “I think it would bring her comfort.”
He nodded in agreement. “I have already started inquiries about the possible cousin.”
“Thank you.”
“I will be ready in the morning to escort you to the village,” he said, standing. “If, of course, her ladyship permits it.”
“Let us not allow her to think she has that power,” I murmured.
He smiled as he clapped a hand on my good shoulder. “She already knows, Alexander. She already knows.”