Chapter 10
Ten
ARTEMISIA
Artemisia stared at the ring. Then at Henry’s earnest, handsome face.
The same rogue who had thrown her into bed when she tried to maintain a modicum of propriety by sleeping on the floor.
The same man she had missed every night for weeks in the snatches of rest she was able to get in between caring for Margaret’s infant.
A duke.
She could not possibly remarry anyone, let alone a peer. She had independence, wealth, and she was content with her life.
Except.
She yearned for what Margaret had. Even if her cousin’s husband, Mr. Gibbs, was sometimes foolish and cowardly as when he had fled the scene of his wife’s labor, he still loved her.
He hardly knew what to do with the baby, but he changed diapers and was learning to care for his son.
They weren’t perfect, but they were happy.
And she was…not.
She was lonely. She had tried to cover up her longing for a family by indulging in the occasional discreet affaire, yet that had only been a temporary solution each time. Until Henry. Until she had gone and fallen in love with a man who didn’t remember his own name…
“How dare you be a duke?” she sobbed, and was horrified to find herself bursting into tears. What was wrong with her lately?
“Is that a yes?” he asked in puzzlement.
“No it is not a yes!” she exclaimed.
“That sentence doesn’t make sense.”
“Henry, I cannot marry a peer. I am not even a lady! I am a reasonably well-off widow who failed to give her husband an heir. You are a duke! You will need heirs!”
This was a disaster. Her inability to bear children had caused endless rancor in her first marriage.
She could not possibly consign herself to decades of misery, not when the stakes were so high.
Artemisia tried to collect herself but it was like trying to grasp water—she couldn’t hold it.
Emotions slipped through her fingers and eddied in her stomach. A whirlpool, sucking her down.
Suddenly nauseous, she lurched out of her chair and lunged for the nearest chamber pot.
Thank God it was clean. She emptied the contents of her stomach—very little, fortunately; her appetite had been off for days—into the ceramic basin.
When she was done retching, she sat on her heels and pressed her forehead to the cold porcelain.
You just puked in front of a duke. He asked you to marry him, and you vomited.
There was no coming back from this. She was going to have to sell everything she owned, move abroad, and change her name.
“Artie,” he said softly. A large hand stroked her back. “I didn’t intend for my proposal to make you sick.”
He sounded chagrined. Artemisia couldn’t stop a hopeless chuckle from overtaking her. What a terrible feeling, to be ill and laughing at the same time.
“It’s not you.” She closed the lid and slumped against the wall, her skirt hiking up. What was the point of modesty when he had already seen everything? “Babies are so much work. I’m exhausted after only six weeks, and I am not even his mother.”
“Mrs. Gibbs was fortunate to have you with her.”
“But I will never have that experience. We would never have that, Your Grace.” She squeezed his forearm, wishing he understood instead of brimming with obstinate optimism. How flattering that he was determined to win her over; how foolish of him to want her in the first place.
“First of all, you cannot be certain about your inability to conceive. Second, while I would like to have children with you, Artemisia, I do not require heirs. I have four younger brothers and two sisters, both of whom have children of their own. The title shall pass down within the family regardless of whether or not I directly sire a son or not. Thirdly, even though you were physically ill at the mere prospect of becoming my wife, I am undeterred. You might not say yes now, but I am not giving up.” Henry cupped her chin and lifted it. Artemisia’s vision swam.
“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Your Grace.”
He kissed her forehead fondly. “Stop calling me that, unless you want me to start calling you Artie all the time.”
An airless chuckle took her by surprise.
“I spent most of my adult life avoiding marriage, Artemisia. But ever since meeting you, I have realized that it wasn’t the institution I objected to, it was the woman I was expected to wed.
Once I met you, I was no longer opposed to the idea.
If finding you required sacrificing my dignity to a lady thief and running away from my own wedding like a coward, then it was all worth it.
We may have only had two days together in Cavalier Cove, but that was all I needed to know that I could love you for the rest of my life. ”
Artemisia sucked in a harsh breath, and started bawling.
“I can’t, Henry. This is the worst thing ever to happen to me.
I finally met someone I could love. I do love you.
I hardly know you, but I think about you all the time.
Yet I know what it’s like to endure disappointment every month for years on end.
I’d hate for the real affection we have for one another to turn sour. ”
“So that’s a maybe?” he said hopefully.
There was one thing worse than being sick and laughing uncontrollably, and that was not knowing whether she was laughing or crying.
“I’ll consider the idea if you accompany me during the journey home.” That was as much as she was willing to give him. For now.
They departed from Margaret’s a day later than Artemisia had planned to, but riding together in her carriage. Henry’s second head wound wasn’t nearly as serious as the first. Apart from a tender bump, he swore he had slept soundly and felt up to the journey.
“More than up to it,” he murmured in her ear as they waved goodbye to Artemisia’s kin. They were barely out of the drive before he was pulling her into his lap to demonstrate precisely what he meant.
The trip should have taken two weeks. They stretched it out to three, making love in either his or her carriage, once his had been repaired. Staying an extra day at an inn here or there, as the mood took them. Artemisia napped a great deal more often than she ever had before.
When they were a few days out from arriving at her home—where Artemisia was more than ready to be—she sat up in bed and vomited into a basin sitting on the stand beside her. Henry held her hair back.
“Oh no,” she gasped when she could breathe again. “I’m pregnant.”
“You’re just now figuring this out?” he laughed. She swatted his arm.
“I was never, um, regular.” Embarrassment scorched her cheeks. How could she have not figured this out? “I was so busy with Margaret and her baby that I didn’t notice I haven’t had my courses since before we met in Cavalier Cove.”
Henry ticked off the damning evidence on his fingers as he spoke.
“You’ve been tired enough to nap every day since we left your cousin’s.
You’ve been saying your breasts are too sensitive for me to touch, which I admit was disappointing until I put two and two together.
Furthermore, you have insisted upon taking every meal in our rooms because the common rooms smell overpowering, but then you want to vacate the room immediately to let it air out.
Sensitivity to odors is another sign, yes? ”
“You might have said something,” she grumbled, leaning back against his naked chest.
“I thought you might not want to admit you were pregnant. I don’t want you to feel obligated to marry me, Artemisia.
” The vulnerability in his voice cracked her heart.
“You are more than capable of supporting the baby alone if that is what you wish to do. But I want to be part of your lives. I want to be a proper father.”
How could she possibly say no to him?
“What if I’m a terrible duchess?” she whispered. Oh, no, not the tears again. She hated feeling so emotional all the time.
“What if you aren’t?” He kissed the top of her head. He was so warm and strong beneath her. She wanted to believe they could be together.
“I was a bad wife,” she admitted.
“It does not sound as if he was a very good husband to you, either.”
Artemisia squeezed her eyes shut and clung to him. Having a baby out of wedlock was scandalous, but it happened. She might lose her friends at the Widows Benevolent Society if she didn’t marry Henry. Were they truly her friends, though, if they judged her for it?
“The problem, dearest, is that you hold yourself to a higher standard than you do anyone else. I promise you, the world will not fall apart if you let yourself slip.”
“I know that. I do let myself slip up from time to time, as I did with you in Cavalier Cove.”
“You dove straight into feeling guilty for seducing an injured man, when I was the one seducing you all along.” He kissed her again, soft and sweet. “You will make mistakes as a duchess. None of them will ever compare to the errors I have made as a duke. Yet I am still standing.”
She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Breathing him in. The warm scent of sandalwood and sea air with a hint of masculine spice. Henry cleared his throat and said, “It’s settled then?”
“What?”
“You’ll be my duchess?”
With a deep breath that felt both expansive and freeing, and as if it might shatter her ribs, Artemisia answered in a small voice, “Yes.”