Page 104 of The Earl Takes All
She slipped out of bed. Her stomach roiled. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she realized she probably should not have had the brandy on top of the champagne, especially when she hadn’t eaten at the ball. Nothing had appealed. The thought of breakfast didn’t appeal now.
As she went to ring for her maid, another wave of nausea rolled through her. She dashed across the room, hung her head over the washbasin and heaved. When she was finished, she poured water from the pitcher into a glass, rinsed out her mouth, grabbed a towel and wiped the perspiration from her face. She did hope she wasn’t getting ill.
Starting across the room, intent on yanking the bellpull this time, she stopped, placed a hand on her stomach. Oh dear Lord. Closing her eyes, she began counting back weeks. She hadn’t had a menses since welcoming Edward into her bed.
She sank to the floor. This changed everything. She couldn’t bring a bastard into the world, not Edward’s. Poor child. It didn’t matter that his father was an earl. There would be no place for him in Society. If it were a girl... it would be so much worse. No good marriage.
Did she deny one child knowing the truth about her father in order to protect another? She didn’t see that she had a choice. She had to protect both children. Edward would agree. She knew he would. She had to find him, talk with him.
But after she was dressed for the day, she discovered he was nowhere about. He’d gone out to see to some business. When he returned, they would discuss how best to handle this situation. Until then there was no cause for alarm or worry.
She was going through some of the things Albert had left in his study—another journal, notes regarding a bill he was considering presenting in the House of Lords, a ball of string, a bent penny, other little things that she desperately wished to know why he’d bothered to keep, wished to understand their significance—when the butler announced that she had callers and presented the cards of the Duchesses Ashebury, Avendale, and Lovingdon.
Walking into the parlor, she found them standing, a triumvirate of the youngest, most beloved, and powerful ladies of the next generation.
Stepping forward, Minerva took her hands. “My dear, as soon as we received word of what had transpired within the House of Lords this afternoon, we thought to come here and offer our support.”
Julia’s stomach dropped, a million possibilities, each one of them involving Edward, racing through her mind. “What transpired?”
“The Earl of Greyling stood before the assembly and announced that he was Edward Alcott. That it was Albert who was killed in Africa.”
She shook her head in disbelief, her knees growing weak. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. He was to write a letter to theTimes,he wasn’t supposed to face his peers so publicly.
“He said you only learned of the truth last night. That it was time to bring the farce to an end.”
“Farce?” she repeated.
“He swore that nothing untoward passed between you,” Grace, Duchess of Lovingdon, said. “That you are an innocent in all of this.”
Minerva studied her face. “But he lied, didn’t he?”
She could only shake her head. Until she understood his plan, knew exactly what he was telling people, she could neither confirm nor deny anything. Why hadn’t he discussed the matter with her before he did anything so rash? “Shall I ring for tea?”
“I think we should sit.”
“Yes.” She took a chair, while the ladies lined up on the sofa, with Minerva closest to her. Although she appreciated that they were offering their support, all she wanted was to usher them out the door so she could find Edward.
“I’m sure Ashe will be here presently,” Minerva said. “I left word for him that I was coming straight over, although he will probably head here anyway. Grace was the one who first received word.”
“Why now?” Rose, Duchess of Avendale, asked. “Why confess now and not before?”
She shook her head. “I’m rather baffled right now, ladies. I hardly know what to say.” Not until she spoke with Edward.
The slamming of the front door had her jumping to her feet, nearly dashing from the room to greet Edward and ask him what the bloody hell he’d been thinking. Only it was Ashebury who barged into the room.
“Where is he?” he demanded. “Is he here?”
“No, I don’t know where he is. What exactly happened?”
“He stood up in the House of Lords and declared himself to be Edward. He confessed that his original intent was to honor a vow he made to Albert to ensure you didn’t lose the babe but then he realized it was to his benefit to continue on with the ruse, as he had considerable gaming debts and the unsavory men holding his markers were not the forgiving sort.”
“Is that true?” Minerva asked before Julia could.
“Absolutely not. At least not what he told me,” Ashe said.
“Would he have told you if he was in trouble?” his wife inquired.
Ashe sighed. “When it comes to Edward, who knows? He loves to tell stories, but I have no reason to believe he lied.”
