Even a wife he did not want.
Worry hammered Seth’s chest as he bathed Jane’s brow. She looked the image of death. An image he knew well. Lips as gray as gunmetal. Eyes glassy with agony. He’d seen the face of death before. On brave men cut down in their prime, vital one moment, refuse on the deck of a ship the next—the loud whistle of the bosun’s mate a sorrowful salute on the wind as their wrapped bodies slid to a watery grave.
“How long have you been like this?” he demanded, chasing thoughts of death from his mind and focusing on the present, on Jane.
Why had no one fetched him? He assumed she had been avoiding him, retreating rather than face him. As he had been doing. Never had it occurred to him that she was ill. Passing her door, he had heard her terrible retching. For no other reason would he have entered her room, too determined to avoid the temptation she presented.
“For a while,” she whispered, her voice a dry croak. “Anna says it will pass.”
“This is… normal?” Seth asked, feeling frighteningly ill-equipped. He could stitch up a wound and dig out a bullet if necessary, but this…
The last time he had felt this helpless was staring at Julianne lying twisted and still as stone amid the bluebells. He’d thought her dead. Thought he had killed her.
“According to Anna, the sicker I feel, the healthier the babe.” A tremulous smile curved her lips, as if she did not entirely believe such counsel.
His gaze flew to her stomach, as if he could see the child within her. His child. Theirs. Until this moment, none of it had been quite real. Suddenly he could imagine their child. A little girl with Jane’s glossy brown hair and hazel eyes. His heart constricted.
“Perhaps we should send for the physician, just to be safe,” he suggested, the protectiveness gripping him fierce, an emotion, welcome or not, he was coming to anticipate around her.
“My lord? What are you doing here?” The sound of Anna’s voice brought him to his feet.
“Seeing to my wife,” he answered.
Anna studied him warily as she carried a tray holding a steaming cup and set it on the table beside the bed.
“Your wife,” she harrumphed, folding her arms over her great bosom. “Wouldn’t know it for all the notice you’ve given her.”
“Anna,” Jane scolded, color washing the green tinge from her face.
He scowled. “I’m sending for the physician.”
Anna snorted. “What does a man know of female matters?”
“It’s unnecessary,” Jane interjected, her weak voice firm with decision. “I’m in good hands with Anna.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I’m staying. And if I think you’re worsening, I’m sending for a physician.”
Anna began to protest.
He arched a brow in warning.
Snapping her mouth shut, the maid nodded and motioned to the tea on the bedside table. “See that she drinks.”
Seth settled down beside Jane, stretching his legs alongside hers. Nestling her head against his shoulder, he brought the tea to her lips.
“I’m not an invalid,” she complained, looking up at him with weary, bemused eyes.
“Hush,” he murmured. “Drink.”
She sipped from the cup, watching him drowsily. “Thank you,” she murmured, eyes drifting shut.
“You may leave us, Anna.” He didn’t look up as the maid departed, too occupied with studying Jane’s face as she fell asleep in his arms, her soft curves nestled against his a tormenting reminder of all he was denying himself each night he slept alone in his bed.
He squeezed his eyes tightly, struggling to forget what it felt like to have her, to sink himself into her heat.
Despite his struggles, it was a memory that plagued him long into the hours of the night.
Chapter 23
“Good morning,” Jane greeted upon entering the dining room and moving to the sideboard.
“Jane!” Julianne’s face brightened as she stared in Jane’s general direction. “How lovely to have you up and about again. Seth was beside himself with worry.”
Jane glanced Seth’s way. Heat flooded her face at the memory of yesterday, of falling asleep in his arms, of waking up in his arms.
Lowering his paper, he watched her with unreadable eyes as she placed one slice of toast upon her plate, not yet ready to try her stomach with her usual fare of eggs and kippers.
“Good morning, Jane.” He inclined his head, the sound of her name on his lips low and deep, making her shiver.
Sinking into the seat across from Julianne, she snapped her napkin free and murmured, “I feel much better. I actually woke hungry this morning.” Her gaze darted to Seth again, wondering if he had yet explained to his sister the reason for her illness, or, for that matter, the reason for their marriage.
“Are you up for a drive in the park then, Jane?” Julianne asked, carefully reaching for her teacup.
Closing both hands about it, she brought it to her lips for a small sip. “I confess I’ve been eager for your company. Rebecca’s sister lives in Eppingham. Since we’re so close I insisted she spend a few days with her.”
Seth grunted at this before taking a crunchy bite of his toast.
“Seth is not pleased with me doing so,” Julianne added in a not so conspiratorial whisper.
“I’m sure even the most loyal companion deserves the occasional time off,” Jane volunteered.
One of Seth’s brows cocked. “Quite. Only perhaps not when Julianne is in a house virtually unknown to her and requires more help than usual.”
“Oh,” Jane murmured, looking with concern to Julianne.
She flicked a hand in dismissal. “Nonsense.”
“Then why have you pilfered Knightly, claiming to need his assistance?” Seth reopened his paper, missing the telltale blush stealing over Julianne’s face. But Jane did not. She noted the flood of color and wondered at it. Why should Jane blush at the mention of Mr. Knightly?
“I think a drive too soon for Jane,” Seth announced.
She snapped her gaze back to him, nostrils quivering. As much as she resented his answering on her behalf, she could not disagree. The thought of ambling along curving paths made her stomach tighten.
“I suppose you can avail upon Knightly again, Julianne. I’ve a meeting with my solicitor this morning.”
“Certainly I wouldn’t want Jane to relapse.” Julianne cleared her throat, tracing the rim of her teacup with an elegant fingertip. “If you’re sure Greg—Mr. Knightly isn’t otherwise occupied.”
Seth looked up at her slight slip, observing her intently. For a moment, something flickered in his gaze. Doubt. Uncertainty. Something. Then he shook his head and it was gone. He returned his attention to his paper.
Jane studied Julianne as she slowly chewed her toast.
“Excuse me, ladies.” Seth rose to his feet. “I have an appointment to keep. Julianne, I’ll send Knightly along.”
Julianne dabbed a napkin over her broad smile. “Thank you.”
Seth faced Jane. For a moment, his eyes darkened with something indecipherable. “Jane.” He gave a single tight nod.
Heart in her throat, she watched him depart, stirring her tea absently as his broad back disappeared from sight.
“Jane.” At the sound of her name, she returned her attention to her sister-in-law. “You’ve met Mr.
Knightly…” Julianne paused, her slender throat working for words.
“Yes?” she prompted.
“What do you think of him?”
Jane answered slowly, “He seems a fine gentleman.” Unsure she knew enough about him to assess his character, she added, “Although I’ve not had the chance to make his acquaintance to any great degree.”
“I have,” Julianne confessed, leaning forward in her chair, her expression rapt, reminding Jane of the girl she had once been, full of anticipation and wide-eyed naïveté. “He’s brilliant! So witty and charming. Oh, Jane!”—she clasped her hands together before her—”he _listens _ to me. No gentleman has ever listened to me as he does. And he treats me as though I’m whole and not some invalid. My own family has never even treated me like that.”
“It appears you’ve grown quite attached,” Jane murmured, concerned over the _tendre _ Julianne was clearly forming for Seth’s valet.
“Jane…” Color flooded Julianne’s face.
“Yes. What is it?” Jane prodded.
“Mr. Knightly. Is he… handsome?”
Jane stared in surprise.
At her silence, Julianne rushed forth, babbling, “Not that it matters a great deal. It wouldn’t change my feelings for him. I’m simply curious and would like to hear a woman’s opinion.”
“Yes. He is attractive. Any lady would think so, but Julianne—” She shook her head as if to clear it. “What sort of feelings do you speak of?”
“I’m in love with Gregory.” Julianne leaned forward, hands flattening on the linen covered table before her. “You mustn’t tell Seth, Jane. He wouldn’t understand. Swear it, Jane. Swear to me.”
Jane’s mouth worked for a moment, wondering how she could keep such a thing from Seth. He cared deeply for his sister. He had _married _ for Julianne’s sake! How could she keep such a thing from him? What would he do if he discovered she harbored such a secret?
“Jane,” Julianne’s voice broke into her musings, insistent and desperate. “Promise me you will not tell.”
Feeling as though a deep and lasting noose settled about her neck, she relented with a sigh. “I promise.”
A sour taste flooded Seth’s mouth at the sight of the woman lounging on the chaise, the morning sunlight streaming through the window gilding her fair hair.
Madeline. The mere sight of her had once sent his heart pounding. Crossing his arms over his chest, he surveyed the woman that had once filled his every dream, an odd sort of detachment coming over him as he eyed the impeccably coiffed lady idly caressing a figurine of cut glass in her hands.
She had changed over the years. Her face had narrowed, the rounded curves of her cheeks lost to delicate angles and hollows. Her girlish figure had filled out. The waist was no longer so small.
The br**sts she had permitted him to caress beneath the summer sun had grown fuller.
Changes aside, she was still one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. And yet he felt nothing. Nothing save a rueful regret for losing his head over such pretty packaging. And a renewed determination to never lose his head over any woman again.
“Your Grace,” he greeted, executing a sharp bow.
Her head swung in his direction. “Seth, dearest.” She set the figurine back down on the table with alacrity and rose in one graceful move. Her glossy lips curved in a hungry smile. “Surely we are beyond such formality. We’re family now, after all.” She walked toward him, her h*ps swaying seductively.
Family. A cold wind swept through him at the very idea.
She stopped before him, one hand propped on her cocked hip. “Although I was not invited to the wedding”—the fine porcelain skin of her nose wrinkled—”a rather slap-dash affair, I imagine.”
Her hand toyed with the ivory lace fringing on her low-cut bodice, beckoning his gaze. “But then Jane was never one to expect much from her husbands.”
His hands clenched at his sides, unsure if the gibe was an insult to him or Jane. And the reminder of Jane having been married to someone else—though not news—caused an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. “The goal was expediency, Maddie.”
Her gaze softened. “You were the only one to ever call me that.” Her fingers brushed his cheek, where the scar split his flesh. A feral glow filled her eyes. “How fierce you look now.