Shayla Black (35 page)

June had arrived already? Goodness, how time flew.

“
Enjoy the festivities without me. I shall join you later if I can,” she promised.

The older woman nodded, then held out her hand to her great-niece. “Come along, Aimee. Let Mama rest while you and I go have fun.”

“
Yeah!” Aimee cheered as she scrambled off the bed and took Edith’s hand. “I see you later, Mama.”

“
Have a good time, sweeting.”

Moments later they had gone, leaving Maddie blessedly alone. Cautiously, she sat up. Thankfully, her back had ceased its pain but her breasts were worse than ever. No doubt from Aimee’s beating this morning. At least the girl would have the summer festival to divert her young energy.

Maddie swung her feet to the floor and froze. Summer festival? Was it already June first?

Frowning, Maddie thought back over the past few months. Her menses normally came at the middle of the month, not the beginning. Her frown became a scowl.

Her menses were two weeks late.

The only time she had ever failed to have her menses in a timely manner was when—

No. Such an event was not possible now. The midwife had told her she could bear no more children. She had never conceived with Colin, despite the regularity with which she had reluctantly shared his bed.

Shock enveloped her. Surely, her ill feelings were nothing more serious than a sudden influenza.

Except... influenza never made her breasts ache or her back hurt. Why would it make her tired days before the nausea?

No, she simply could not be pregnant. Though she had wanted more children someday, it wasn’t possible. Unless…the midwife had been wrong?

Could she be with child?

Maddie rose, suddenly very alert. She paced, her mind racing to the summer she had discovered herself pregnant with Aimee. All the indications were the same.

An icy chill of shock doused her. Confusion tugged at the sudden burst of elation.

“
With child?” she murmured.

How
? Well, she knew how—at least in theory. She and Brock had made love countless times in the past weeks. But how had she conceived with all the scarring the midwife had sworn birthing Aimee had produced?

Had time healed her?

Maddie stared at the peeling plaster of her white ceiling, blinked, stared some more. A haze of shock whirled in her. Only a staggering litany penetrated the mist in her mind:
a baby, a baby, a baby.

She raised an unsteady hand to her stomach, and lay her fingers over the slight curve there, one of the reminders of her last pregnancy.

A baby.

She was nervous, excited, and stunned, yes. But what should she do? Her mind raced so fast she could hardly discern one thought from another. Tell Brock? Of course. She would have to. Her pregnancy was not something she could hide from the man who touched every inch of her bare skin almost nightly. He was a bright man—brilliant, really. Brock would soon realize what her body told her now.

And what of society? She could not hide in Ashdown Manor’s walls for months and then lie about the baby’s parentage to cover its bastardy. It was not fair to the child. Or to Aimee.

Or even to Brock.

Sighing, Maddie sat on the bed. She should have told him the truth about Aimee long ago. Fear that he would want Aimee to himself, that he would not want Aimee at all, that he would punish Maddie for her years of silence—had all strangled her courage. And now, she would likely pay for her cowardice dearly.

Fate had decided that she and Brock must marry—and that she must spill the truth soon. Somehow, she would find the courage. Then she would pray that he would someday forgive her and come to truly love her, as she loved him.

But once he realized how long she’d kept Aimee a secret from him, Maddie feared her prayer would be too much for even God to grant.

#

Later that afternoon, Maddie sat tensely in the drawing room, doing her utmost to concentrate on mending her stockings—and failing miserably.

Hearing a caller at the door, Maddie stood and froze, half-hoping, half-fearing Brock was her visitor.

Matheson opened the door and said something most unexpected. “Are you at home for Lord Belwick, my lady?”

Belwick? Brock’s competitor in building the railroad?

Confused—and curious—Maddie nodded and rushed to tuck her stockings beneath the sofa cushions. In her faded daily clothes, she looked bedraggled enough; best not to show the man her unmentionables as well.

Pushing away a coil of hair that had strayed into her face, Maddie turned as Matheson announced her guest.

Belwick strolled in, wearing every trapping of a gentleman and a pleasant grin.

“
My lord,” she greeted cautiously.

His gaze zipped to her, and he rose to his feet. “Lady Wolcott, thank you for receiving me. You are gracious, indeed.”

“
I am at home today, merely overseeing a few household chores, nothing that would interest you fancy Londoners.”

Belwick smiled at her gentle jibe.

“
Would you care for tea?” Maddie asked, impatient to complete her hostess duties so she might learn the cause for this odd visit. In fact, she dreaded it. What did he have to share with her now—and did she want to hear it?

“
No, but I am much obliged for the kind invitation.” Without further pause, he said, “I know you and Lady Dudley have had some disagreements in the past, but I was greatly disturbed when she shared with me just last evening that you find yourself in need of money.”

Shame rushed over Maddie, and she felt her cheeks heat with anger.
Blast Roberta
! She had made a mistake in asking the woman for money. Even at the time, she had known it. Now, she was more certain than ever.

“
My financial state is really none of your concern, my lord.”

His smile was sharp. “I have offended where I had no intent to do so. Give me the opportunity to rephrase my reason for calling.”

Sighing, Maddie made her way back to the sofa, sat, and stared at Lord Belwick in expectation. He did not disappoint.

“
Perhaps we may help each other,” Belwick began anew.

Maddie had no notion why he imagined thus, but she had agreed to listen, so she would.

“
Lady Dudley indicated last night that you had requested a loan from her, I began to ask myself why. I also wondered why such a lovely lady would consort openly with rabble like Taylor.”

Though she’d known most of the
ton
thought Brock beneath them, to hear Belwick so openly disparaging him incensed her. “Perhaps, my lord, I find him interesting.”

Belwick hesitated, apparently deciding to change tactics. “You claim your late husband left you deeply in debt, Lady Wolcott. And Mr. Taylor bought up your markers, according to one Mr. Hockelspeck, your husband’s tailor.”

Maddie stared at her guest in horror, mouth widening in shock. He only went on.

“
You owe Mr. Taylor money, and he is pressing you to marry him because of it, is he not?”

Belwick knew. And Maddie feared if he kept digging, he might learn more—about her trysts with Brock. They had done their best to be discreet, but perhaps there was a witness somewhere. What then?

“
That is none of your affair, Lord Belwick. Please go.”

“
I shall give you every farthing necessary to pay Taylor, plus an additional ten percent, if you refuse to marry him.”

There it was; the reason for this odd call. Maddie sucked in a breath and stared at Belwick in mute shock.

He offered her everything she had wished for since the moment Brock had strolled back into her life on that cold March night.

But he offered it too late.

The money would not save her from marriage now, not with a child on the way. Nor would it save her heart from Brock’s grip. For better or worse, she loved him.

“
I am stunned by your offer, my lord. But I must decline.”

“
You’re going to marry your former servant?” He sounded incredulous.

“
That is a matter between myself and Mr. Taylor.

Belwick shot to his feet, his round face tightening with anger. “Are you certain that’s wise? Let me explain the ramifications—”

“
There’s no need. I have made my choice.”

Maddie stood and walked to the door.

Belwick glared at her, venom darkening his eyes suddenly as he made his way across her threadbare carpet. Clearly, he disliked the fact that Brock could now compete fully in the race to open the London to Birmingham route first.

“
You will be sorry,” Belwick vowed as he reached the portal.

Maddie merely opened the door to send him on his way. She suspected that even if she hadn’t become pregnant, her heart would have led her to the altar with Brock eventually. She was at peace with her decision. She almost thanked Belwick for making her see it.

“
Good day.” She smiled.

“
It won’t be.” With a final glare, he muttered, “I’ll ruin you both.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“
A toast,” said Cropthorne the following evening to the crowd of investors gathered at his home. “To the T & S Railroad. May she open on time and always be prosperous.”

“
Here, here,” Brock shouted, standing beside the duke.

All the men present raised their glasses of champagne to celebrate the successful laying of the first mile of track. With luck and good weather, the rest of the route would be finished in fifteen months—well ahead of the schedule Lord Belwick had proposed for his competing line.

Brock smiled. The taste of success was like a fine brandy—purely delectable. True, Maddie hadn’t agreed to marry him yet, but he sensed her wavering, slowly melting. He had been supremely confident of that the night they had last made love. He’d been honest with Cropthorne about his progress in wooing her to the altar. Slowly, the duke was defrosting, extending more patience.

But the moment was imperfect. Brock turned to Maddie, only to find her wearing a nervous, preoccupied expression. What had brought the turmoil to her gray eyes? She had said earlier they must speak tonight after the party. Whatever disturbed her, he hoped she would trust him enough to tell him then.

Beside him, Maddie frowned in her champagne glass before setting it aside, untouched. Brock wanted to stroke her face, smooth away the worry lines between her brows. But too many people, including the snobby Lady Litchfield, who stood at Cropthorne’s side, watched them.

“
Maddie?” he whispered, peering at her with concern.

She raised her gaze to his. Blinking, she hesitated, then pasted on a false smile. Did she think that expression would make him believe all was well?

“
I’m simply tired,” she murmured.

He did not believe a word she said. Tired would not put lines of worry between her brows.

Maddie must be unhappy at his presumption to celebrate this railroad. After all, in order to successfully complete the project, he and Maddie must marry. Feelings were shifting between them; he knew it. She felt more than enmity for him; he knew that, as well. He ached for her, for all she’d endured, but he was not Sedgewick and would not pay for the man’s utter stupidity. Brock would marry Maddie, and he’d given her every assurance that he’d be a much better husband and father than Sedgewick. But he would
marry
her. What other objections could she have?

Only his serving-class background came to mind. It hurt more than he cared to admit.

But if only the matter of marriage weighed upon her mind, would she stand beside him, pensive, looking as if her world were crumbling? It seemed unlikely. And she certainly wouldn’t seem frightened.

“
Is this little... party finished?” Brock heard Lady Litchfield drawl to Cropthorne.

The duke wrapped his hand about her arm to stay her. “Already eager to leave, Cordelia?”

“
I’ve done as you asked in attending and lent credence to this little venture of yours.”

Brock took the words as a challenge, and turned to excuse himself from Maddie’s side. Lady Litchfield apparently needed a bit of his charm. It would either thaw or irritate her, and he very nearly did not care which.

Maddie stayed him with a hand about his elbow. “She has a poison tongue if you make an enemy of her.”

“
She has a poison tongue, regardless,” he murmured.

“
Not always. Let her relax. Gavin will help her to come about on this issue.
If
she becomes your ally, she can smooth your way through the ton. If you ruffle her feathers now, you will rue the day.”