Page 36 of The Marquess's Final Fling
“Oh, marvelous, Theo. I—I worried so.”
“You mustn’t ever. My one true love, you mustn’t ever worry that I won’t—”
“I’m pregnant, Theo. I’m pregnant. The doctor says—”
“Dear god.” He couldn’t clear the fog in his mind. Blind with it, he clutched her closer. “What?”
“I’m pregnant. Can you believe it?” She was bubbly with disbelief.
He was…quite…speechless.
“I’m pregnant.” She beamed.
He brushed her hair back from her cheeks. “Of course you are, my love. Who wouldn’t be after all the time we spent in each other’s arms?”
“Oh, you joke, but isn’t it marvelous?”
“That you will marry me, yes. That you’re pregnant, yes. Oh, yes.”
Oh, Jesus. No.
He caught her up in his arms, she chuckling, he putting on the best act of his life. He strode into his parlor and sat down with her in his lap. She kissed him and he kissed her a thousand times. His mind whirling, he had to steel himself for the next nine months. Or eight. Or whatever his time was to be with her before…
But he would not think on that. He’d treasure her. Treat her. Take care of her as if she were made of glass. Or chiffon. Or the pure refreshing air of life that she’d always been to him.
They spoke of a wedding.
“In a few days,” she said. “I did feel much better this morning which is why I took the chance to have the physician in. I hoped of course, he’d tell me I suffered some dietary malady and was recovering.” She giggled and nestled close to him, petting his cravat and planting little kisses on his jaw. “Shall we do Saint George’s? And we can write to Marsden Hall. I bet Gertrude will be thrilled at this. Will your father, do you think?”
“Yes, that I am most assured of.” The Duke of Harlow knew how to forgive, forget and now as well, he knew how to change.
“He won’t believe that I am with child, will he?” She made funny little faces at him.
“No, but he will be thrilled.”
“As you are.” She pressed her soft lips to his. “Imagine. This time, we may have your heir!”
“We may indeed, my love.” He curled her close and tucked her head against his shoulder.
For the next few hours, they talked not of their past. But of their future together. What they’d do. Where they would live and travel. How they would take their children with them everywhere they went.
And they spoke nary a word about the subject that plagued him like a ghoul.
Dear God.How would he live for the next months with the joy that should fill him now that she would be his loving wife?
Because if she’d believed that she had put a hex on the men she married, he believed he’d put one on the women he’d wed. And they’d both died in childbirth.
And now he’d kill her in that same way.
Chapter 11
The tranquility of his days gave counterpoint to the ecstasy of his nights.
He loved her with an ardor that seemed to multiply each day, each hour. In so many ways, she was incomparable. He could barely keep count of her assets. Her good humor despite her unease in the mornings. Her gaiety with his daughters. Her lavish affections upon them. Her willingness to sit with them for their tea parties with their new Christmas dolls. Her courtesy with staff. Her open houses and her generosity with his tenants, especially their children.
Penn was a true treasure to live with. She was not grumpy. She was not petty. She was not peevish. Or fascinated with fashion or flowers.
But she was very enthralled with him. At any hour of the day or night. Astonished at her appetite for him, he welcomed her ardor. Her addiction to him. So unlike the two women whom he’d wed before, she was all refreshment and a profound relief. She had simple tastes. Good food. Good wine. Good books. Good conversation. She was unaffected by the foibles associated with the women of her class. She was unbothered by the little oversights of the staff. Unimpressed with her power or position or title. Most of all he loved her for her lack of female posturing about intimate relations. She had no megrims. No complaints about their love-making. No excuses to ward him off. On the contrary, at any hour of the day, she often took him by the hand and led him to their suite. There she closed and locked the door, disrobed with speed and his help, then giggling, removed his clothes with alacrity and teasing. If she were not pregnant when he wed her in March, she would have been a thousand times by June.
