The Widowed Countess (23 page)

Chapter 22

Post Proposal Prognostications

“I heard my brother asked for your hand in marriage,” David murmured, his lips curving up. He didn’t add that he’d also heard his curses. “When will you say your vows?”

Clarinda sat up in bed, her eyes wide, her thoughts still in the dream where she was ten months pregnant and Daniel was quite thoroughly pleasuring her. Or was that David? She shook her head.
Where am I
? This wasn’t her bedchamber. This wasn’t Norwick House.

The cobwebs of sleep slowly cleared from her mind as she tried to think. “Vows?” she repeated, still surprised that
David
was perched on the edge of her bed. “What vows?”

“Marriage vows,” David repeated, one of his hands reaching out for hers. It settled over the top of the one that wasn’t clutched to her abdomen.

Clarinda realized she’d been doing that a lot lately, as if she had to in order to remind herself that she was carrying twins. Not that she really needed much reminding; she’d gained a few more pounds in the past week and was ravenously hungry.
Norwick Park
, she remembered suddenly. She was at Norwick Park with Daniel and his mother. “If you’re referring to Daniel’s proposal of marriage, I can assure you I told him ‘no’,” she finally spoke, her shoulders slumping. She had been tempted, albeit for only seconds, to accept his offer, there was no doubt about it. The way Daniel had looked at her, the way he’d held her hand – it was exactly the same as when David had asked for her hand in Kensington Gardens amongst the pink roses. And for the babies to have a father – that alone would have been enough for most women to say ‘yes’ to such a proposal.

But how could she agree to marry a man who she was sure despised her? Wouldn’t he always remember how she slapped him that day? Remember her stinging rebuke? Remember how she could behave like a volcano erupting whenever her anger was provoked? No, Daniel Jonathan Andrew Fitzwilliam was far safer keeping his distance from her.

“You
have
to marry him, Clare,” David whispered, one hand reaching out to caress her cheek. “It’s his turn, after all.”

Gasping, Clarinda regarded her dead husband with a look of disbelief. “His
turn
? What? And I have no say in the matter?”

David shrugged and seemed suddenly a bit confused by her response. “No,” he answered simply. “You were supposed to marry him in the first place.”

Silence filled the space between them for several heartbeats. Clarinda’s mouth opened in shock. She shut it about the time David’s hand reached over to push up her lower jaw. “What are you saying, David?” she asked, a surge of anger building inside. Molten lava, or at least the remains of her late night snack, threatened to erupt if she didn’t control the sudden urge to throttle her dead husband to death.
What, indeed, was he saying
? Had Daniel been telling the truth when he claimed to have been the one to ask for her hand that day in Kensington Gardens?

David noted the sudden wash of red that colored Clarinda’s face and thought of a volcano’s eruption. He took a step back, not even thinking that she could do him no harm. He was dead already, after all. “I admit, I ... I sort of ... usurped Daniel’s place in your heart. In your life. Actually, in all of life, truth be told,” he stammered, not sounding the least bit like the earl he had been when he was alive. Death had taken his confidence, it seemed, along with his sense of entitlement and his apparent dislike of his younger brother.

He had to admit to himself, ‘dislike’ wasn’t quite the right word to describe his feelings toward Daniel. It was jealousy. Simple, green jealousy. For Daniel was always right there on his heels, from the time they were born. And then, when it really counted, Daniel had somehow stepped ahead of David and managed to secure the love of a woman David realized he wanted for himself. How could he live with himself if he allowed his wife to believe his lie any longer? Especially now that he was dead?

The irony of that last thought went unnoticed by the late David Fitzwilliam as he pondered his fate and those of his wife and his brother. He had been a rotten brother, a scoundrel and a rake, and yet his brother had forsaken a carefree life as one of London’s young bucks and willingly taken over the responsibility of the earldom’s business affairs, had overseen the management of Norwick Park and seen to its tenants in David’s stead. All David had done was attend sessions of Parliament, listening intently when something was of interest to him and spending the rest of the time daydreaming of what he might be doing if he was at White’s or in Hyde Park or at home with Clarinda.

Sighing, Clarinda regarded David for a very long time. He was lost in thought, an activity she knew him to engage in at some of the most inopportune times. “Explain yourself,” she demanded, suddenly wary.

Crossing his arms, David cocked his head first to one side and then to the other. “It’s tough being a twin, you know.” When the statement didn’t elicit the sympathy he was looking for from Clarinda, he sighed. “Danny and I fought constantly. From the time we were in the womb ...”

“The
womb
?!” Clarinda countered, her eyebrows indicating her growing impatience with the only man she thought she had loved for the past four years. The man with whom she was currently quite miffed. The man who was now making no sense. But then, for a moment she had to remind herself that he had been dead for several days and was now finally buried. It was a miracle he was even here talking at all.

“Aye,” he answered with a nod. “Ask Mother. She’ll tell you. It’s a wonder my brother and I are so poor at pugilism,” he added as his attention seemed to stray for a moment. “Horses and guns, no problem, but swords and fists ... I’d die in a duel if I had to fight with a rapier. Or my fists.”

“David,” Clarinda sighed in exasperation. “You’re dead already,” she whispered, no longer caring if she offended him. What was he going to do? Haunt her? He was doing that quite effectively at the moment.

“It’s true!” David insisted, ignoring her comment about him being dead. “Ask the dowager countess,” he said in a voice that suggested he was daring to bring up the matter with Dorothea. “I’d kick Daniel, and then he would hit me with an uppercut to the jaw, so I’d counter with my left hook, and then he’d kick me,” he pantomimed as one leg seemed to intersect the edge of the bed. The contact made no sound, nor did the bed seem to move. “It’s a wonder we were both born with
balls
. It’s a bigger wonder we didn’t kill each other. There’s not a lot of room in there,” he added as he pointed toward her slightly rounded belly.

Clarinda simply shook her head from side to side, not quite believing the scenario her dead husband was describing. “How do you even
remember
that far back?” was all she could think to ask in response.

David straightened. “Trust me, sweeting. When you’re dead, you can remember
everything
,” he claimed with a raised eyebrow. “Makes me a bit ashamed, in fact,” he added, a hand going through his hair so it was left in unruly spikes atop his head.

“What are you saying?” Clarinda wondered suddenly, becoming alarmed at her husband’s strange words.

“Daniel was supposed to have been born first,” he replied, his matter-of-fact tone making the statement sound not quite as ridiculous as Clarinda was imagining. There was a sort of
whoosh
sound just as he finished the admission, as if he’d been harboring the truth for all his almost forty years and was relieved to finally be able to speak the truth.

“Really?” Clarinda managed to reply, keeping her expression in check. “And ... how do you know that?”

David uncrossed his arms and let out a ‘huff’. “When mother’s water broke, Daniel was asleep, so I took his place,” he said with the sort of nonchalant attitude he’d adopted for most of the conversation.

Clarinda blinked. And blinked again. “The way you just said that ... are you
sorry
for having been born first?” she wondered, not quite sure what she should say.

Good grief, when had David lost his mind?

Probably when he died
, a part of her brain argued. The other part was telling her she had lost
her
mind.

David shook his head. “No, Clare, I’m not,” he said suddenly, his face brightening. “I probably even managed to get in the last kick as I was on my way out.” He said this last with a hint of pride.

Her mouth open once more, Clarinda regarded David with a scowl. “So, why are you telling me this now?” she countered. Was he telling her so his conscious would be clear? Burdening her with the truth of his existence, of his having stolen his brother’s birthright so he could, what?
Rest in peace
?

David sighed, his shoulders suddenly slumping. “Don’t you see, Clare? You were always supposed to end up with Daniel. He was supposed to be born first. He was supposed to be the earl. He was the one who courted you and asked for your hand in marriage. I just ... took his place in every step of our lives,” he admitted with a shrug. “Now that I’m dead, I want to set things to right.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, Clarinda wondered when she might wake up. Because David’s claims were starting to make sense, and she was suddenly questioning everything she’d been led to believe by the man who stood before her.
And when did he stand up?
she found herself wondering. She was sure he was sitting on her bed just a moment ago.

“I love you, Clare. Truly. The hardest thing I ever had to do was ...
die
, since I knew I would have to give you up. And I can’t even do that very well,” he added with a mischievous grin as he motioned with his hands to indicate the body that stood before her. “But now that I am –
dead
, that is – it’s Daniel’s time to take his rightful place as earl.”

Clarinda’s eyes narrowed. “What about the twins I carry? What if one is a boy?” Clarinda quickly countered. Daniel wouldn’t be the earl if she gave birth to a male heir.

Taken aback at the reminder of the impending birth of her twins, David took an uneven breath. “Well, since they’re both girls, they won’t inherit, of course,” he answered in that matter-of-fact tone he was so good at using. “I absolutely adore that my daughters will look just like their mother, by the way,” he managed to get in before leaning over to lift Clarinda’s suddenly slack jaw back into place with his forefinger. “But your next set of twins will be Daniel’s, and they’ll both be boys.” He paused for a moment as he watched Clarinda’s face take on a second look of shock. “Don’t faint on me, sweeting. They won’t come for almost two years,” he commented with a wave of his hand.

“Twins.
Again
?” Clarinda whispered, her hand moving again to rest on her belly.

“And just wait until
they
start fighting with one another. Then you’ll know I was telling the truth about Danny and me,” David seemed to brag. He sat still for a moment, deep in thought.

When had he taken a seat back on the bed
? Clarinda wondered suddenly.

“As I was saying,” he spoke with a finger in the air. “It’s Daniel’s time to take his rightful place as earl, and time for you to be his countess. Think about it. You won’t even have to change your name!” He said this last as if he had just then realized the coincidence of he and his brother sharing the same last name and the same title.

Clarinda regarded him for a very long time, shaking her head, as much in disbelief as in astonishment. When she didn’t make any attempt to reply, David moved so he was sitting next to her and took one of her hands in his. “He loves you, Clare. He always has. Longer than I have, in fact.”

Clarinda’s head seemed to loll to one side. “So, you weren’t the one who asked for my hand in marriage in Kensington Park?” she managed to get out, her eyes suddenly limned with tears.
Oh my, the awful things I said to Daniel! The awful way I treated him!

David sighed. “No.” He was quiet for a moment. “I wanted to, though.”

“And you weren’t the one who courted me?”

David closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. Daniel did all of that.”

“And you weren’t the one who came into my bedchamber every night and made love to me?”

David’s eyes widened with alarm. “That most certainly
was
me!” he countered, his face displaying a look of stunned surprise.

Clarinda bit her lip to suppress the smile that threatened.

“Well, except for that one time,” David added with a shake of his head.

It was Clarinda’s turn to look stunned. “
What
? When?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief. A frisson shot through her entire body, as if
it
remembered perfectly well when such an event had occurred. She shifted slightly on the bed, as if she was trying to shake off the troublesome memory.

But David was smiling, shaking his head and
smiling
while he regarded her. “He’s even a better lover than me,” David murmured. “Isn’t he?”

Ignoring his question and struggling to keep her embarrassment from showing on her cheeks, Clarinda held her breath for a very long time before letting it out. “Oh.” How else was she supposed to respond to her dead husband’s comment? “David, you’re barely dead and buried. I hardly think I can even consider marrying anyone until ...”

David waved a hand dismissively in the air. “No one will notice if you mourn me for an entire year or not. They won’t even remember I died when they see you on his arm. They’ll just think he is me. All will be fine. You’ll see.”

Making a sound that could best be described as an unladylike snort, Clarinda leaned forward and buried her face in the counterpane that covered her knees. How could David be so cavalier? How could he expect she would ignore the dictates of polite society and simply remarry before at least six months of mourning had passed? And how could he have been so cruel to Daniel?

Daniel
!

She should go to him. Apologize. Beg forgiveness. Yes, that’s what she’d do.

Later, though.

She was hungry again.