Chapter 3 #2
He perused the scrap of note that came with the infant. Whoever wrote the note might be a woman or a man who wrote with such flair. But why would the person abandon the child at his townhouse? Was the person trying to gain financial support or merely to ruin him?
Richard rang the bell pull, and Mr. Hawthorne appeared almost instantly. The butler still looked a little rattled by the duke’s arrival, or perhaps he was also feeling the stress of recent events.
“Hawthorne, when you found the baby, did you notice a carriage leaving? Did anyone spot an intruder leaving the premises?”
“No, Your Grace. By the time we found the baby, it might have been there for some time. At first, we thought it was a kitten crying. We sought the source of the sound to provide it with milk, thinking we would have something to care for and probably send home for one of our children. Then, we found the dear girl,” Hawthorne explained.
“Mm. The person planned it well, then,” Richard mused.
“We must use discretion when dealing with the child. We will refer to her only as a ward while we decide what to do with her. We don’t know who sent her.
It could be someone who should have left the babe in a church or orphanage, or someone who seeks to destroy Hawksford. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, Your Grace,” the butler replied, looking a little calmer.
Richard stared at Hawthorne, feeling the older man’s relief. “How is the duchess? How is she handling this? I know she is distraught and that she does not trust me. She has been avoiding me.”
The butler hesitated, looking slightly away as if choosing what words to say.
“She is exhausted, Your Grace. She has been caring for the child with the help of Mrs. Davies and Bessie. It’s a struggle for someone who …
” The butler faltered and looked at Richard as if seeking permission.
The duke merely nodded. “She is struggling with the practicalities of motherhood, Your Grace, perhaps since she had not truly prepared for the possibility.”
Richard felt an unexpected pang. He had never dreamed of marrying for love, and he knew that Victoria felt the same way. He just did not want her to feel forced into bearing an heir, like many women before her who had been in arranged marriages.
“I am sorry that she is struggling, but I know she will manage,” he murmured.
He knew she would, even though his wife was made for adventure and the stage. There was nothing traditional about her, but scandal did not choose its victims, and he would do everything in his power to keep her from it.
“You may go, Hawthorne. We still have many things to do in the daytime,” he dismissed the butler.
Richard could remember those as his last few words before he drifted into oblivion.
When he opened his eyes, his head was pounding. He realized that he had slept on his study desk, and he was hearing something. Something he was not used to waking up to.
“What is that infernal noise?” he muttered, as wakefulness battled with sleep.
Then, he remembered. When he did, the mere noise became clearer. It was the sound of an infant crying. Melody. Of course. He sat up, running his fingers through his dark hair. He strode out of the study and into the hallway, following the sound into the nursery.
He pushed the nursery door without knocking. It was not locked; it was not even latched. Only a single lamp illuminated the room. In the middle of it was Victoria. She was wearing only a thin silk nightgown. Her dressing gown rested on a nearby chair.
Richard stopped and stifled a gasp so as not to disturb her. She was cradling the baby in her arms. The crying had subsided. It looked like she had managed to make it fall asleep.
“You’re holding her wrong,” he said, shocked that he actually said those words. She must have done something right; after all, the babe was asleep. “That was probably why she was crying in the first place. She woke me up.”
Richard’s jaw tensed. He was aware of the accusation in his voice, but there was something about Victoria that made him want to say those words.
He was right. Victoria did not like being told what she had done wrong, especially if the words were coming from him. Her eyes widened at him in warning.
“Shh!” she hissed, her voice low and careful, but still expressing the fury simmering within her. “Do you want to wake her up? Would you dance her to sleep after that? As you know fully well, she had just fallen asleep.”
Richard was stunned. He stared at the woman whom he had married. She was practically a stranger, and nobody talked to him like she did without getting into trouble.
“Don’t speak to me in that tone,” he growled, stepping further inside the nursery. “I am merely saying that perhaps there is a better way of handling the child so that she’d sleep earlier.”
“You’re blaming me for the baby disturbing your sleep?” Victoria asked in an angry whisper. “However, you may have been the reason we are in this mess. You have not yet shown me any evidence that this is not your child.”
Again, there was that uneasy feeling of not being trusted by his own wife. He tried to shake it off, but it clung to him the same way the silk of Victoria’s nightgown clung to her skin. It became even more noticeable after she had placed Melody in her bassinet.
The lamplight made her gown almost translucent, showing off the swell of her hips and breasts. He had maintained control for so long to have it fail under an inconvenient surge of lust. Yes, this was nothing but lust in a red-blooded man who had been celibate for too long.
“She is not my child. Don’t you think I would be more prepared if she were mine? I would have expected this,” he grumbled.
“Oh. Would you really?” she asked, giving him a sarcastic smile. “What if it were your mistress’s idea? She wants you to see that you can’t escape what you’ve done.”
Her dark blonde hair had gone loose, its soft tendrils falling to frame her face. He had always known he’d married someone beautiful, but it was the first time he had truly looked at her like this. For a time, she was merely a means to an end.
“I don’t know how to make you see that I am not the sort of man who would turn my own child away …”
“That’s why she’s here!”
Melody whimpered. Both of them turned towards the bassinet in horror. Would the baby wake up and wail once more? The little one had already begun ruling their lives, it seemed.
The baby let out a little sigh, and her hand twitched.
Victoria and Richard froze.
For a moment, nothing came out of their lips. Their anger had become shared terror. He knew that she felt it even more potently. Her lips were pale, and her eyes had dark circles around them.
Then, Melody was still once more. Richard let out a silent sigh of relief.
“We should leave her here,” Victoria suggested in a low voice. “We cannot afford to wake her again.”
Richard agreed, nodding, but his eyes lingered on the sleeping infant. No, there was no reason for him to be mad at the child. She was an innocent throughout all of this. The poor thing must have been abandoned by her own parents.
He followed Victoria out of the nursery to continue their conversation in the hallway. Candles lit the walls, but some were already dimming. Before either of them could say anything, he was again drawn to the duchess. Her face. The thin nightgown. He became even more aware of her presence.
Finally, Victoria caught the way he was looking at her. A flush spread from her chest to her neck and to her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed at him, suspicion and something else sparking from somewhere beyond them.
“We need to hire someone who can truly care for her. A nursemaid, preferably a wet nurse,” she said, her voice sounding a little strained.
He noticed how she would not meet his eyes directly.
“I cannot manage her. Tonight was simply fortunate,” she continued.
“Yes, of course,” Richard agreed, clearing his throat. He tore his gaze away from her reluctantly. She had a grip on him that he could not understand. “I will see to it that we will find the most competent staff for that.”
Silence stretched between them, and their gazes met once more. Richard realized that his desire only continued to burn in her presence. He blamed the loose tendrils of her hair, her parted lips, and her thin nightgown for everything. He blamed his celibacy, too.
“Victoria,” he said in a strangled voice. “You ought to wear a more appropriate nightgown from now on.”
His eyes flicked back to her body and how the silk clung to her curves like a second skin. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes were on fire. She didn’t like what he said. Not one bit.
“Appropriate?” she echoed. “This is my home, or did you not forget that you said I’ve become its mistress while you remain in Hawksford Hall? I will wear whatever I please here! You should not dictate what I wear inside my own bedroom.”
“But you are not, are you?” he asked. “You’ve left your robe inside the nursery.”
“I will still return to Melody before I sleep, but that is my business.”
Richard bridged the gap between them until they were so close he could smell the clean scent of her skin. There were hints of soap and a gentle fragrance, but it was her unique smell that he found arousing.
“You are my wife, duchess, lest you have forgotten,” he said in a dangerously low voice, even as he felt his blood heat at her proximity. “If you wear that nightgown again, I will rip it from you myself.”
It was a threat, but he heard her breath hitch.
Her eyes seemed to glaze a little, and her chest rose and fell more quickly.
He had bent close to her to whisper his delicious warning, and his mouth was so close to her neck.
Any other man would just take what he wanted, but he was not that kind of man.
As quickly as the urge to kiss her came, it vanished. He pulled away sharply, taking on the mask of controlled distance once more.
The duke knew it was a bad idea. So, he put a stop to it. He backed away, still looking at her. It was enough to see her startled face.
“Goodnight, Duchess.”
His voice was colder than before. He turned on his heel and walked away, hoping he could still sleep through the night.