A Regency Lord's Command: The Disappearing Duchess / The Mysterious Lord Marlowe

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Lucinda lay sleepless as the first rays of dawn penetrated the crack in the curtains. It might be better if she took Angela and ran away again. Surely Justin would be relieved to be rid of a wife who could never be what he wanted? He might be angry or hurt for a time, but then he would be glad she’d gone; he would divorce her and marry again.

A little voice inside her urged her to leave before it was too late and her husband discovered what a wretch she was, yet she could not bear to leave him. She bent over him as he slept, her fingers itching to stroke his body as he had stroked hers. She had longed to touch him, to kiss him and tangle her legs about him as he gave her pleasure, but she was afraid that he might think her wanton. If she showed desire and need, Justin might think she was shameless, as her father had called her.

It might have been better had they never met. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She loved the man she had married and, as he kissed and caressed her so tenderly, giving so much and taking nothing, she had felt that he was once more that man. Her guilt at deceiving him was sharp. Justin did not deserve to be cheated and lied to—and that was what she was doing by bringing her bastard into his house.

If he discovered the truth, he would never forgive her.

Lucinda crept from the bed and went into the dressing room, where she put on a simple gown that fastened in front and needed no assistance from her maid. She looked back at Justin, who was still sleeping as she left the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

Trying not to feel guilty, Lucinda put her regrets from her mind. She must fetch Angela and Nanny before most of the servants were up and about. Once they were installed in the attics Alice could tell people that the child was Lucinda’s cousin’s. In time Justin might discover what she’d done, but perhaps he would believe the story.

‘She seemed a little better last night,’ Nanny said. ‘It was warmer, of course. I think once she is in a dry place she will soon begin to thrive. She has already begun to fill out, Lucinda—it is just her chest. The damp of this cottage does not suit her.’

‘The attic rooms I have found for you are warm and dry. When the nights are cold, perhaps I can move you into the nursery where you can have a fire.’

Nanny frowned at her. ‘You have not told your husband. Do you not think he will be angry when he discovers what you’ve hidden from him?’

‘Yes, I fear he may. It may be that we shall have to leave Avonlea and find somewhere else to live, but then we shall look for a small town and I shall take up the trade of seamstress. Justin has given me a generous allowance each month since our marriage, which is paid into a bank and I have hardly touched. I dare say he would not ask me to return it if we separated.’

Nanny shook her head doubtfully. ‘This is not like you, Lucinda. You have always been honest and candid in your dealings with others. I know you care for this man. It might break your heart to leave him.’

‘Would you have me abandon my child to others?’ Lucinda’s eyes pricked with tears. ‘I thought she had died at birth and I mourned her, though I had accepted it. When I first saw her—so pale and thin and ill treated, I could not bear it, Nanny. She was born of a cruel rape, but she was not to blame. Yes, it would break my heart to leave Justin, but he does not need me as Angela does.’

‘I cannot deny the child needs you. When she is well she plays happily enough for hours, but when she is feeling unwell she cries for you. I try to comfort her, but it is you she wants.’

‘We must go quickly,’ Lucinda said. ‘If we are swift, no one will know you are in the house for a while and perhaps I may persuade Justin to let me have my cousin’s child stay with us.’

‘You should ask him sooner rather than later,’ Nanny warned. ‘If he truly cares for you, I do not think he would tell you to abandon the child—but a decent house with servants and warm dry accommodation might be provided somewhere.’

‘Somewhere I would not be able to visit very often,’ Lucinda said and her head lifted, an expression of determination in her eyes. ‘If Justin cares for me, he should accept my child. I would have told him if he had been more reasonable at the start.’

‘Well, you know your heart best,’ Nanny said, but shook her head.

‘Bring your bundles and I shall carry Angela,’ Lucinda said and went up the cottage stairs to lift the sleeping child from her bed. Angela stirred and murmured something, but did not wake as she was carried down the stairs and out of the house.

Justin woke and slid his hand across the bed. Lucinda was not there and the sheets were cold. She must have risen some time earlier. Her perfume lingered and haunted him, but he wanted to find her warm soft body lying close to him, to make love to her again in that first luxuriously sleepy moment after waking. He knew that she was still nervous of the act of love, which was understandable after what had happened to her, but she had responded to his touch. Little did she know what it had cost him to refrain from taking his own pleasure of her. He was not sure how long he could control his need to bury himself in her sweet warmth, but perhaps she might be ready to accept him next time?

Rising, he went into the dressing room. She was not there, but he thought that a cloak she had left lying over a chair had gone. Where was she? It was not yet eight o’clock.

Had she gone for one of her long walks? He was thoughtful, edgy and frustrated as he went through his own dressing room into his bedchamber, his mind beginning to search for answers to so many questions. What did Lucinda do on her walks? She had mentioned meeting Andrew Lanchester on more than one occasion, but did she go to meet him or someone else? Did she have a lover? Was that why she had lain unresponsive, not rejecting his touch, seeming to welcome him and yet giving little of her inner self?

Justin had been patient with her. He did not wish to hurt her after the torment she must have endured the night she was raped. He had refrained from the final act because he wanted her to welcome him with no reserves. It would be wrong to force her when she was clearly not ready.

Perhaps he should have waited longer before attempting to make it a true marriage? Watching her at the ball had made him realise how much he wanted her, but he had expected too much. Women had always been eager and responsive to his touch, but Lucinda had suffered in a way that most could not contemplate.

He was a clumsy fool. If he wanted the shy trusting girl he had wed to return to him, he must be gentle with her. He must take his time, court her and make her love him again. He must curb his impatience and think of her needs, not his own, because he cared for her more than he’d realised. He’d been angry and harsh because he was disappointed in her lack of trust when she ran away. Now he must curb his temper and show his wife that he admired and cared for her; he must teach her to love him, but slowly and with infinite care.