Chapter 12 #3
They would never let this go. Marco took a deep breath and then plunged ahead. “She is marrying me because I have agreed to her request that we do not have any children,” Marco said with a sigh.
“She does not want children? And you agreed?” Beatrice exclaimed, rubbing her hand to her forehead. “Oh, Marco.”
“Why would she even make such a request?” Giovanni questioned, his brow furrowing as something occurred to him. “Does she think your blood is not good enough to run through the veins of the Fitzroy heir?" Marco could hear the outrage in his cousin's voice.
“I do not think that is the reason. She is the daughter of a servant and spent her childhood as one herself.
I hardly think she is turning her nose up at my Italian heritage," Marco said.
However, the suggestion did make him uncomfortable.
He didn't want to think that Alice would be so snobbish.
But now that it had been said, he couldn't help but wonder if a part of her felt that he was not good enough to father the next Duke.
“That does seem unlikely,” Beatrice said, looking thoughtful and pensive for a moment.
“Perhaps she is just fearful of childbirth, many women are, and she has not been kept in the dark about such matters like other ladies of the ton. She will have witnessed the strife and joy up close as a servant.”
“She did, in fact, mention something about that,” Marco muttered. He neglected to mention that Alice’s explanations of the education of servant girls had been reserved for matters of pleasure only.
“Whatever the reason, I cannot believe you have agreed to this,” Giovanni said, shaking his head and looking at his cousin in amazement. “Do you not want children?”
“I want Alice,” Marco said flatly. He saw Beatrice smile softly, and Giovanni’s eyes widened in shock. “I… well, I think I have fallen in love with her.”
His proclamation was followed by a moment of absolute silence, and he saw Beatrice squeeze her husband’s hand tenderly.
“Do you mean that?” Giovanni asked quietly, looking utterly shocked that the words had left Marco’s lips. “You have never shown interest in being wed before. I must be candid, Marco. I had assumed that any union you might enter would be for business rather than for…”
“Love,” Beatrice finished for him, beaming at Marco. “You really are in love, Marco.”
“I think I must be,” Marco answered honestly, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. He shook his head, his own feelings overwhelming him. “I have never felt this way about anyone else.”
“If that is the case, then perhaps you should consider telling her the truth about everything, including what her father did,” Beatrice said softly. She reached to squeeze his hand affectionately. “You should start your marriage with honesty, Marco. It is the only way for it to be a happy one."
Marco understood the sense in her words, but his whole mind resisted it. He feared he would lose Alice if he told her the truth, and he could not risk that.
“How can I tell her that her father was responsible for not only my factory's destruction but also a man's death? That I initially only approached her out of the need for vengeance?” Marco shook his head. “I cannot do that. She might not forgive me.”
“But if you love her, wouldn't you want her to know the truth rather than allow her to enter into a union with a man keeping secrets from her?” Beatrice asked gently.
“I am more concerned about why she does not want children,” Giovanni muttered, sipping his whiskey and frowning.
“Why should that concern you?” Marco asked, relieved to have some distraction from Beatrice’s points, which cut far too close to his heart.
“Because it makes no sense. Most women want families, and she has the added task of producing the heir to the Fitzroy line." Giovanni said, shrugging in confusion. “Do you think it is possible she already suspects you of being disingenuous?”
Marco pondered that as he picked up his glass and finished the remaining whiskey in one swallow.
He thought about the night he met Alice and the dastardly game the other gentleman played with her future.
He made it seem as if he only wanted her for her money.
If the circumstances of that game and Marco's participation in it ever came to light, Alice would hate him.
She would think him no better than those scoundrels who planned to parcel out her inheritance to one another with no regard for her.
The betrayal she would feel would be insurmountable.
“No. There is nothing disingenuous in how I feel about Alice no matter what I had in mind before,” Marco said firmly. Beatrice gave him a small smile.
“That may be so, but secrets are secrets, Marco,” she said, her voice weary and filled with a knowing that unfurled small petals of dread inside his heart.
“Most people do not take kindly to being kept in the dark.
And ladies especially despise it when their spouses prove to be untrustworthy. I do hope you know what you are doing."
“So do I, Beatrice,” Marco said bleakly, the elation of his evening with Alice and her acceptance of his proposal waning in the face of such worries.