Chapter Thirty
Nathaniel returned shortly after six and made his way straight to the dining room.
“My apologies, I— Where is Lady Lark?” he asked the footman upon noticing the table was set for one, and Frances was nowhere in sight.
“I believe her Ladyship wasn’t hungry, so she retired early.”
“She went to bed? Already?”
“I believe so.”
“Sarah?” he called, searching nearby rooms until he found her. “What happened?”
“Nothing here, my lord, though I believe you had a visitor.”
“To Lady Lark,” he specified.
“She retired early. I offered to help her undress, or have a plate brought up if she was feeling unwell, but she assured me she was just tired, not hungry, and not to worry.”
“But that is worrisome, is it not?” He’d suspected she might be cross with him, and with good reason, but she’d have no reason to avoid Sarah. It could mean she truly was tired, but she definitely saw Margaret, and most likely his reaction to her.
“It would be completely normal behavior if she were perhaps with child.”
There were many warnings in his old friend’s tone. For him not to fear the worst, because Frances was not Jo. Not to ignore it, because they both knew Frances wasn’t with child, a fact that held its own judgment as well.
“Should I go…” Nathaniel didn’t know what to do, but it definitely wasn’t nothing.
“She asked not to be disturbed. And I can hear your stomach.”
“My stomach doesn’t matter. She didn’t even eat in the carriage. I can’t believe she wouldn’t be starving.”
“Perhaps she lost her appetite. Long carriage rides aren’t for everyone.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed, though not believing it in the least. “Would you join me?”
“Absolutely not, my lord.”
At least she smiled before leaving him.
He made it through soup and half his main course before deciding this was ridiculous, and he would just talk to his wife.
Nathaniel hadn’t felt so nervous knocking on a door in his own house since this same one on his wedding night. Especially when he didn’t hear her voice welcoming him in.
He was about to knock again when Stevens walked over.
“Ah, you’ve been informed.”
“Of what?”
“Your chambers.”
“What about them?”
“A leak during your absence. Given the plans for repairs, we went ahead and—"
“Repairs?”
“And deep cleaning,” Stevens agreed. “Her Ladyship’s chambers have your necessities. Or we can make up a guest room?” he suggested.
“No, that’s— Thank you, Stevens.” He waited for the butler to move on before heading down the familiar path to his childhood bedroom that he would have used forever if Stevens wasn’t such a stickler for the rules.
He paused in the doorway, trying to remember what awaited him inside, but Sarah hurried over from the servants’ staircase, trying to look like she had all the time in the world and no purpose.
“My lord, you’ve heard?”
“About my chambers? Yes, unfortunately.”
“You didn’t—” She looked horrified.
“I did not ask Stevens to make up a guest room. This one is perfectly suitable. The staff need not trouble themselves.”
“Of course.” Sarah pressed her lips together, but her eyes said it all.
“You clearly have something to say.”
“Nothing, my lord.”
“Sarah.” He tilted his head and fixed his eyes on her. “You have permission to speak freely.”
“Some of us might have an inkling as to what is going on—”
“I’m aware of your knowledge,” he assured her.
“Others don’t. Others would think nothing of mentioning they had to change the sheets in your old bedroom. And some might infer.”
“What are you saying?”
“Unless you wish the entire household to know, and possibly others, which may be your goal and an inevitable outcome…”
“I need to sleep with my wife.”
Sarah looked mortified.
“I only mention it because—”
“Because I forget about how it would look.” He sighed. “Thank you for reminding me.”
His fear of encountering Jo on every surface inside suddenly paled in comparison to sharing a bed with his wife.
Nathaniel went back to the countess’ chambers’ and knocked, but this time, even though he didn’t get a response, he entered.
Cautiously, with his hands up, ready to apologize for the intrusion as soon as she asked what he was doing, but Frances was asleep, a sheet half covering her face, her mouth wide open.
It wasn’t even dark out. He made his way to the bed and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, but it didn’t feel like she had a fever. Still, he’d keep an eye on her. Perhaps ask Mrs. Mulberry to make a broth for lunch.
As promised, his nightclothes were hanging over a chair. Not that he generally wore anything when he slept, but tonight would be an exception.
It was one thing to share a bed when both parties were aware of it, but he couldn’t just join her while she was asleep, could he?
“Frances?” he tried.
While there was no conscious response, Frances rolled over, slightly trapping herself in the bedding.
He was fairly certain one couldn’t suffocate from a sheet, but just in case, he gently pried it off her face and tucked her in, as he’d done countless times for his younger siblings.
He resisted the urge to run his fingers through her hair and gently caress her cheek as he tucked it behind her ear, which was entirely new.
His heart raced when he saw red creeping by her brow.
He rushed to take her temperature again, but his movement altered the light, so he could see she wasn’t flushed, nor was it a rash, but some kind of marking.
A permanent burgundy patch on her skin. It was as smooth as the rest of her face, if not more so.
He wondered how he could have missed it, but it must have been hidden by her hair.
It was only after minutes of him exploring with what he wanted to call scientific concern, but was clearly a caress, that he realized this was exactly what he shouldn’t be doing to a woman he’d promised didn’t have to worry about him.
There was an extra duvet in case she got cold, and his robe on the chair, so Nathaniel made a spot for himself on the rug and tried to sleep.
Lying on the floor in what should have been his mother’s bedroom, he didn’t even recognize his life anymore.
Every single time he thought he had everything under control, life laughed in his face.
With Jo, with his parents, with Frances.
It wasn’t fair to group Frances with the other two. Gaining her was the opposite of losing the others, but each event had most thoroughly disrupted the life he’d planned for himself.