Page 78 of The Pleasures of Passion
“If Dr. Worth says she’ll be fine, then she will be,” Niall said to soothe the man’s agitation. “You trust him, don’t you?”
“With my life—but it’s not my life at stake. Still, he says that if the bleeding doesn’t become heavy, then it’s naught to be concerned about.”
“So, where is Clarissa now?” Niall asked.
“In her bedchamber. The doctor says she needs plenty of rest.”
“Of course.” Niall eyed his friend closely. “I don’t suppose I could see her?”
Edwin’s face closed up. “No visitors for a while, Dr. Worth said.”
“Even family?” Niall said, though he wasn’t entirely surprised by Edwin’s answer. He’d already known he might not be able to talk to her.
“Yes, even family. And especially not your mother. At least not until Dr. Worth can be sure this isn’t anything more than normal. He was very firm on the ‘no visitors’ rule.”
“It’s probably a good one.”
“Yes,” Edwin said absently.
“She doesn’t mind, does she?”
“No, she doesn’t want to risk the baby any more than I do.” Edwin stared out the window. “I only wish there was something more I could do to help. I feel so . . . bloody useless.”
If ever Niall had been in doubt about his brother-in-law’s feelings for Clarissa, those doubts were dispelled. The man was obviously distraught. “I’m afraid this is one area in which a husband isn’t much good to a woman, other than to keep her company—which might be more helpful than you’d think. Clarissa’s unaccustomed to being cut off from people, so she probably welcomes your companionship.”
Edwin snorted. “You’d think so, but no. She says I fuss over her too much, that I’m as bad as an old woman.”
Niall let out a laugh that made his brother-in-law scowl at him. “Sorry, but that sounds exactly like something Clarissa would say.”
With a distracted nod, Edwin walked toward the door. “I don’t mean to be inhospitable, old man, but—”
“Actually, I didn’t just come to find out how Clarissa is doing,” Niall put in. “I need to speak to you about something important.”
That arrested Edwin. “All right. I can spare a little time.” He walked over to a brandy decanter. “Something to drink?”
“Oh yes,” Niall said. In some ways, discussing Clarissa’s assault would have been easier with her than her husband. Now that the moment was upon him, he wasn’t sure how to begin.
He waited while Edwin poured them each a finger of brandy, then took a drink to steady his nerves. “Warren told me that you know why I fought that duel with Joseph Whiting.”
Though Edwin’s gaze darkened, he nodded.
“I realize this is difficult to talk about,” Niall went on, “but here’s my situation.”
As succinctly as possible, he laid out the details of the aftermath of the duel. Niall revealed everything that had happened between him and Bree years ago, including telling Edwin the lies Father had told Bree in an apparent attempt to save Niall from himself.
He even explained Fulkham’s scheme, and how that had brought him and Bree back together again. Niall knew he could trust Edwin withthatsecret, since Edwin was indebted to Fulkham for the latter’s refusal to let Edwin be prosecuted for the death—in self-defense—of Whiting’s other cousin, Durand.
Edwin asked more questions about Fulkham’s scheme than Niall expected, and Niall answered impatiently, wanting to get to the important part of the discussion—his desire to tell Bree the truth about the past.
But at last, Edwin seemed satisfied with Niall’s answers. Only then did he discuss what Niall had revealed about his past with Bree. “Clarissa and I guessed that there’d been something between you two, but we had no idea of the full extent of it. She’ll be astonished.WhenI can tell her, that is.”
That arrested Niall. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not about to reveal any of it now. She already feels guilty that you went into exile because of what she sees as her ‘error in judgment’ by letting Whiting get her alone.”
When Niall tensed at the very idea, Edwin added hastily, “Trust me, I’ve fought to disabuse her of that notion. You and I see that bastard for what he was—a rank blackguard—and I think I’ve convinced her that she wasn’t at fault for what happened.”
“Thank God. I haveneverblamed her for my exile. And I have certainly never regretted fighting that duel. If you could have seen her lying there beneath Whiting, crying and bleeding—” He caught himself as Edwin paled. “Sorry—I don’t know how much of it she told you.”
