Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
By the time Andrew got back to the house, it was dark, and everything was quiet. Lucy must have retired for the night.
As he did every day, he moved through the darkened house and went straight to the nursery.
Lucy spent her hours caring for William, but there were a few times she wasn’t there, and then he would pick up the babe and cradle him close and remember Rebecca and all his obligations.
William always responded well to the affection.
More proof that Jessamine was right; children needed affection and love in order to be able to prosper.
Not merely routine and structure and the expectations that came with being the heir to a great estate and heavy title.
Andrew had never felt the burden as greatly as he did climbing the stairs to his son. Though he knew he was not the sire, he could not help feeling as though he was William’s father in every respect that mattered. Just as Jessamine was William’s mother.
Jessamine, who wanted more children of her own. He would never know that same urge, not having the same response—his body never carried a child within it, and although he would love any child that they created, it would feel similar to William for him.
Except that a child with Jessamine would have her eyes or hair or smile. They could have a girl and give her the childhood Jessamine had always wanted and missed out on.
Something stirred in him at the thought—a hunger he had been denying himself for so long. Perhaps he deserved a family, or perhaps he didn’t, but he wanted one. He wanted to look Jessamine in the eyes and tell he everything that was wrong with him and beg for her forgiveness.
He finally reached the nursery and held the candle out to illuminate Lucy in the small bed at the corner of the room, and Jessamine slumped in the armchair, her legs curled up under her as she slumbered.
The affection in his chest could not be contained. He ached with how very much he loved her. Even now, when their marriage had become so very shaky, she was still here, keeping watch over William.
After glancing into the crib to ensure William was sleeping well, with tiny rasping breaths as his hands curled into fists, he crouched by Jessamine.
“Hey,” he murmured as he rubbed her arm. This was the most they had touched in five days, and by God, he had missed her. “It’s time to return to bed, sweetheart.”
Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked at him without seeming to see his face. “Andrew?”
“I’m here.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to speak with you.” But perhaps tonight was not the right time.
She was tired, probably sore after sleeping curled up in that chair for so long; perhaps he should wait for the morning for her sake.
He’d waited this long, so he could wait a little longer. “But first, I think you need to sleep.”
She blinked up at him. “I don’t understand.”
“William is safe here with Lucy. No one is coming into the house. You can go to bed. If you need me to, I can stay with him.” He tugged at her arm, and finally she came, rising to her feet.
He noticed she was in her nightgown, probably having slipped into the room after a nightmare about something happening to William.
A nightmare she had to face alone.
No longer.
He scooped her into his arms and carried her from the room. Her body, so close to his. He could feel her heartbeat, and his own body responded to her proximity.
Not now.
Now was very much not the time for those thoughts, even if it was tempting to imagine—
No!
“I don’t understand,” she protested as he shouldered her bedroom door open. “I thought you wanted to avoid me.”
“What I wanted to do and what I did are two entirely different things.” He placed her carefully down on the bed, and she still bounced a little.
“But I’m sorry, Jessamine. I shouldn’t have needed that time, and I certainly shouldn’t have treated you the way I did.
You made me…” He shook his head. “But we can discuss this tomorrow.”
She sat up, placing a finger against his lips. “You said you wanted to speak to me.”
“I did, but it can wait for the morning. You’re tired.”
“I was tired,” she corrected. “I am no longer tired, thanks to you coming in and waking me up and informing me that you wish to speak to me. About what?”
This was not quite how he had imagined this conversation going. He dragged a hand through his hair and sat on the edge of the bed.
“About us,” he said. “The truth of the matter is I’ve been a fool, blind to what’s in front of me, and so caught up in…
” He blew out a long breath. “I am not a man who is predisposed to happiness. Not from my childhood, and especially not after going to war. You must understand that… You will never be able to understand what that was like for me. I carry the remnants of the war around with me always. I lost good men out there, and I will never be able to look in the mirror and wonder what the world would have looked like if they had been the ones to return and not me.”
Her hand moved to his as though by instinct, her fingers wrapping around his. “Oh, Andrew.”
“I’m not saying that so I might benefit from your pity, but that you might understand why I…
Why I have felt my entire life as though I am not deserving of the other joys my fellow men might experience.
Marriage for me was never anything other than a duty, and our marriage was a means to an end.
I meant to provide for William in the best way I knew how, but that way never involved affection until you.
Of course, I harbored affection for him, but it was an affection born of duty, not oh… ”
“Of love,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “You do love William, Andrew. No matter what happens between us, you have been consistent in that.”
“I do, but I learned how to show it because you showed me. All this time, you have been so patient as I have been putting the pieces of my life back together. I see that, and I recognize it, and I appreciate it. But what you have never been able to see is just how… how broken I am, Jessamine. You want a husband, but I felt as though I could never step up and be that husband for you. What’s more, I felt as though I could never deserve to.
I have failed more times than I can count—Rebecca and my friends and then you and William.
The people most important to me, I have habitually failed to keep safe. ”
“But that is not your burden alone, Andrew.” Jessamine sat up, placing both hands on his cheeks. “This may be a marriage of convenience and duty, but then let us both play our part in that duty. Let me care for you, just like you care for me.”
“That’s the thing, Mina.” He wrapped both hands around her one small one.
This was not how he’d imagined the conversation going—he ought to have led with this.
“I never intended to; I never thought I could in all honesty, but I love you. I am so in love with you, I can barely think about anything else. Keeping apart from you has almost killed me these past few days. I’m still scared of what might happen in the future, and all the ways I could fail you, but for the first time, I want to try. ”
He looked at her, waiting to see if she would respond in any respect.
She merely looked at him, biting her lip. As though she could not quite envisage how this could be real.
“You love me?”
“Desperately. So completely, I can do nothing else.”
“But…” She fought for words. “You say you now finally want to try?”
“I should have come to that conclusion so much earlier, but I was a fool, my darling,” he said.
“I was afraid of failing you, of hurting you, and I still might. You know a little of how broken I am. That may yet leak out and impact your life as well as mine. But if you are prepared to try, if you want to, then I am prepared to be here with you, too.” He gripped her fingers. “What do you say?”
She shook her head as though in a daze, like a dog shaking water from its ears. “You’ve been afraid?”
“Terrified,” he said wryly. “Does that strike you as foolish? I assure you, it strikes me as more so. I used to pride myself on being afraid of nothing, and yet here I am, being afraid of my wife and my adopted son.”
“No.” She shook her head, her hand squeezing his again, and a small smile dawning across his face. “You were never afraid of me, Andrew. You were just afraid of yourself.”
“Then I have become still more of a fool. The one thing a man ought never to be afraid of is himself.”
He took her hand in both of his, looking at her earnestly.
A weight had lifted from his chest. Finally, he’d given voice to all the things he’d been fighting for so long. Even if she decided not to accept his apology and not to allow him back into her life, at least he had tried. At least he had said his piece and told her exactly how he felt.
The blankets shifted, and she wrapped both arms around his neck. “Andrew,” she said, her voice catching on a sob. “I thought it was me that you didn’t want.”
“Jessamine. Mina.” He held her close. “You were never the problem. I’m sorry for making you wait.”
She pressed her face against his neck, and his stomach bottomed out in relief. “I ought to make you wait in return,” she told him. “I ought to make you grovel and beg.”
“Is that what you want?” He pulled back and sank to his knees before the bed.
The candles had almost guttered out, but they held enough light for him to look up into her perfect face, mahogany hair falling around her cheeks in loose curls, her mouth softly parted, her eyes dark and fathomless.
If he hadn’t already known he adored her, he would have known then.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking up into her face. “I should have done better by you, and I regret not doing so. I would do anything to make it up to you. Anything at all. If you would make me kneel before you all night, then I will. All week.”
She half-laughed, covering her face. “Andrew.”
“You are the only woman I have ever wanted to share my life with, and I will do anything I can to make that life better. I love you, Jessamine. Every inch of you, for every second. Forgive me.” He hesitated.
Begging did not come easily to him, but he had already offered her so much of himself; what was a little more? “I beg you.”
She reached forward and caught his wrist, holding his hand in her lap. “You said we would not have a family.”
“I…” He took another deep breath and turned his hand so their fingers linked.
“I was afraid of that, as well. I thought a man like me, who had caused so much death, did not deserve to be the harbinger of new life. I was afraid that whatever darkness is inside me might become inside a son of ours, too.”
“Oh, Andrew,” she whispered.
“But I regret that stance now. And I do not uphold it. If you want children, Jessamine, then we will have them. Tens of them if you would like.”
She cupped his cheek, and it felt like redemption. “Perhaps not tens. But one or two might be nice. So William can have siblings growing up. I always wished for a sister when I was a girl, and now I have Irene. Let’s give William a brother and sister at least.”
An heir and a spare, just like every good duke ought. But this was no longer about succession or logistics; this was about a family whom he could love, and who could all love one another.
This was for Jessamine.
“When?” he asked, looking into her face. “There is no guarantee of anything, of course. But thus far…”
“I know,” she said softly. “I know you have been avoiding the possibility of children.”
“Those days are over, so long as you are prepared to become with child. Is that what you want?”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Now?”
Desire stirred in him, just as it had before, but like wildfire this time, almost impossible to ignore. “I want a family, Jessamine,” he told her. “But only with you.”
She tugged at his wrist. “Well, then,” she said, her voice turning throaty. “It strikes me we ought to get started.”