With a low fire simmering on the hearth and one lamp casting a low glow from its place on the bedside table, Julia lay beneath the blankets, her hands clutching them to her chest as she listened to the familiar noises coming from Albert’s bedchamber. Was he having a bath prepared? There were so many comings and goings that she didn’t see how it could be anything else.
She would have dearly loved to slip out of bed, go into his room, kneel behind him and scrub his back, would have enjoyed feeling the quivering in his chest with his satisfied groan. Eventually she would move on to more interesting aspects of his body. He would kiss her, his nimble fingers working free the buttons on her nightdress. Before long they would be in his bed, with his still-wet body gliding over hers. She loved contemplating the notion of how badly he would want her.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when she’d never done it before, and there seemed to be this odd strain in their relationship. While she had not expected it to be so, she was experiencing butterflies worse than the ones that had fluttered about on her wedding night. This was Albert. She knew what to expect. Only she didn’t. Four long interminable months had passed since he’d been in her bed. If she were honest with herself, she’d forgotten things that she had thought to always remember: the feel of him, the scent of him, the warmth of him.
They weren’t quite as comfortable as they’d been with each other before he left. She knew grief was a consideration, the upheaval in their lives created by the death of his twin. Always, Edward was there hovering, so they’d been unable to relax into each other.
Then there were the changes in her, in the shape of her body as well as in the fabric of her being. She could be laughing one moment, weeping the next. Her lady’s maid had begun treading lightly around her because she never knew when Julia might lash out. It was unsettling to feel as though sometimes she had little control over herself.
Perhaps the changes in her deserved more credit for this distance between them.
As the minutes stretched out, she began to wish she’d called for a bath, although she’d bathed that morning and washed up before donning her nightdress.
Why was he taking such care in his preparations if they were merely going to sleep? Yet she couldn’t deny the little shiver of pleasure that coursed through her at his thoughtfulness. Albert was always thoughtful, sometimes too thoughtful, as though he feared with a misstep that he might lose her love. That was impossible. She would never love another as she loved him. She’d begun to fall for him the moment he’d first waltzed her over the dance floor.
The door separating their bedchambers opened, and the butterflies launched into a frenzied flight moving from her stomach into her chest. She watched as her husband walked into her room, wearing his dressing gown sashed tightly at his waist. He gave her a small smile before striding over to the fireplace, taking the poker, and stirring the logs on the fire.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She realized he was delaying coming to her. Perhaps he, too, had noticed that things between them weren’t all they should be. “I won’t be once you’re in bed with me.”
Setting aside the poker, he came to the bed, his gaze on the lamp. “Do you want the light?”
“No.”
He extinguished the flame, and the shadows moved in, dancing in rhythm to the flames cavorting on the hearth. He untied the sash, shrugged out of the dressing gown, and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. At the sight of his bared chest, her mouth went dry, the butterflies fluttered lower, and she cursed herself for not asking that the light remain.
Sliding between the sheets, he settled onto his back. She rolled over to her side, placed her hand on his chest, welcomed the warmth of his skin. “You’ve never not worn a nightshirt to bed.”
Beneath her splayed fingers, he stiffened. “It was unbearably hot in Africa. I became accustomed to sleeping in the nude.”
She trailed her fingers up his chest, down to the waistband of his drawers, which she assumed he’d worn out of consideration for her sensibilities. “Perhaps after the babe is born, we’ll both sleep in the nude.”
Grasping her wandering fingers, he jerked his head to the side. Even with the shadows, she could feel the intensity of his stare. Her cheeks grew warm as she forced a brave smile. “I think it would be lovely.”
Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingertips. The butterflies settled, warmth sluiced through her, tears stung her eyes at the tenderness of his action.
“I know I’ve not been myself.”
“Shh. It’s all right,” she cooed. “Our being separated was more challenging than either of us expected, I think. I hadn’t anticipated being uncomfortable with you when you returned.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
His hand was still curled around hers, holding tightly. The bond was there, it would always be there. “I don’t mean to imply you’re at fault. It’s merely the circumstances and going so long without having you about . . . to be quite honest, I’ve forgotten things that I never thought to forget. What it’s like to be with you. I got rather accustomed to caring only about my own needs, my own wants. I only had to see after myself. Now that you’re home, I have to settle back into being a wife. It’s not that I mind. I don’t feel burdened by it. It’s simply that I feel a bit awkward sometimes because I’m not quite sure how to act or what to say.”
Rolling onto his side, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry that I’m not the man you married.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Don’t you see? We changed somewhat and now we just have to get to know each other again.”
Leaning back, he cradled her cheek. “You’re so . . . insightful. I thought I was the only one feeling as though I didn’t know you any longer.”
Reaching up, she brushed his hair back from his brow. “The only thing that hasn’t changed is that I love you beyond all imagining.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You humble me.”
Dropping his arms around her, he pulled her into his chest. That broad, wonderful chest. “It’s been a long day. What say we sleep for a bit?”
Nodding, she tried not to be bothered that he hadn’t confirmed that he loved her. Before, whenever she professed her love for him, he was quick to reassure her that he loved her as well. In retrospect, she dearly wished she’d not encouraged him to take the sojourn with his brother.
The baby gorilla peered out through the underbrush.
“She’s adorable. Look at those huge brown eyes. Ladies will fall in love with her.”
“Don’t get too close.”
“We’re fine. She’s a sweetheart. Look how eagerly she came to me.”
“You always had a knack for charming the ladies.”
“We should take her back with us. Think of the attention we’d garner. And Julia would adore her.”
“I’m not certain that’s a good—”
The frightening growl ripped through the dream, jerking him awake as it had every night since Albert’s death. He was sitting up, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat. He had no memory of pushing himself up, the remnants of the nightmare causing uncontrollable tremors to ratchet through him.
“Albert?”
“Apologies for disturbing you. Go back to sleep.” Tossing back the covers, he lunged out of bed and strode to the fireplace. The flames were low, on the verge of sputtering out. Kneeling, he carefully set a log on the dying embers, added kindling, watched as it sparked. He was cold, so blasted cold, as cold as his brother was now. He needed to get warm, needed his teeth to stop chattering.
He needed the horrendous nightmares to stop. He felt as though he couldn’t draw in a breath, as though the oppressive heat of the jungle were suffocating him. Why had they wandered away from camp without their guides? Why did Albert have to be so damned observant and spot the baby gorilla? Why did he have to notice everything? Why hadn’t Edward had his rifle at the ready rather than slung uselessly over his shoulder?
“Here, sip on this.”
With a great deal of effort, Edward looked over at the small hand extending the glass, lifted his gaze to blue eyes filled with worry and concern. “Where did you get that?”
“Edward’s room. It’s scotch. It’ll help calm you.”
How long had he been lost in the aftermath of the dream? And how the devil did she know that she’d find scotch in Edward’s room? Taking the glass, he downed half the contents in one long swallow, welcoming the burning in his throat as it went down, the heat spreading out through his chest.
“This is the reason you haven’t been sleeping with me, isn’t it?” she asked.
It wasn’t, but still he nodded.
“Were you dreaming of Africa?”
He turned his attention back to the fire. “I can’t stop seeing it. That last afternoon. The sunlight dappling through the leaves, the din of insects and wild creatures going about their day. The jungle is seldom quiet. All the minutia of that moment mocks me. I remember it in such vivid detail.”
“You haven’t told me exactly what happened. Tell me now.”
“Julia—”
She placed her hand on his shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Unburden yourself.”
He shouldn’t, but it was eating at him.
“We, uh . . .” He cleared his throat. “He, uh . . . It was early afternoon. We’d been trekking through the jungle, stopped to eat, to have a spot of tea. I heard something, went to investigate, rifle in tow. He came along. He spotted it first. He was always so good at that. Spotting things . . . even when we were lads . . .”
His voice trailed off and he became lost in a whirlwind of memories that went back for years. She rubbed her hand in a gentle circle over his shoulder. “What did he spot?”
“A baby gorilla. It was small, with such huge eyes, so damnably cute.”
Her fingers flinched, and he knew his use of the word “damnably” had taken her by surprise. He had to remember that Albert never used profanity or vulgar language with her.
“He approached it, knelt on one knee, and began to play with it. I just stood back watching. He looked happy, smiling, chuckling low. He was actually tickling the thing. I was so incredibly glad that we were there, that we’d made the journey together . . . then there was this terrifying . . . roar is the only way to describe it. I could swear the earth trembled. Then this monstrous gorilla swept up my brother and hurled him against a tree as though he were nothing, a scrap of paper lying about. I don’t know how many times he slammed him to the ground before I was able to shoot the beast through the back of his skull. But it was too late. My brother was already gone.”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed tightly. He was trembling, brought his hand up and dragged it over his mouth. “Oh, Albert, how dreadful. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. I think the first blow did it.” A lie. But he didn’t want her to know the truth of it, not when it was actually her husband who had lain there all broken and dying. “He didn’t suffer overmuch. He might not have even known what was happening. It was quick.” He took in a shuddering breath. “I should not have shared such a ghastly thing with you in your condition.”
“I know you think otherwise because of the babes I lost, but I am not so delicate as all that. You must share everything with me. You mustn’t keep it to yourself.”
He finished off the scotch, set the glass aside.
“Steadier?” she asked.
Remarkably, he was, and he didn’t think it was so much due to the scotch. He forced himself to meet and hold her gaze. “Yes.” He was no longer trembling, his teeth no longer chattering. The chill in his bones had faded away. “Thank you for the scotch. It was exactly what I needed.”
“I tried to wake you up when you began thrashing about.”
He’d been thrashing about? “Did I hurt you?”
Shaking her head, she brushed the damp hair back from his brow. She had such gentle fingers. “No. But it tore at my heart to see you suffering so.”
He did not deserve to have her experiencing any sort of mental anguish on his behalf. He didn’t deserve her worrying over him. “It might be better if I slept in my bedchamber until the dreams stop.”
Yet how could he give up the comfort she offered, here kneeling beside him, rubbing her delicate hand in circles over his shoulders and back. Her bare hand on his skin felt so damned good. He didn’t deserve to be touched, didn’t deserve to be comforted.
Your husband is dead because of me, he wanted to shout. He had to pretend for a little while longer, had to be stronger than he’d ever been. He wished Albert were here so he could punch him, for old times’ sake. He wished he were here so he could tell him about all the confusing emotions rioting within him. Ever notice how tiny your wife’s feet are?
“God, I miss him,” he croaked. “I miss him so damned much.”
“I know,” she cooed, wrapping herself around him as though she were a cloak to protect him from the harsh elements. “I know.”
Only how could she know? Albert had been a part of him, connected to him through tragedy and triumph. And now he was gone. It was as though a sledgehammer had suddenly struck his chest to bring home the reality—
A fluttering at his lower back caught his attention. “What the devil was that?”
Julia unwound herself from around him, took his hand and placed it on the mound of her belly.
“Julia—”
“Shh, wait,” she said so softly that he almost didn’t hear her over the crackling of the fire.
Then he felt it beneath his palm, a slight undulation, which caused his mind to empty of all thoughts save one: This was yet another moment he was stealing from his brother.
She smiled sublimely. “That’s your son.”
His brow furrowed. Earlier she’d referred to the child as a son. “How do you know it’s a boy?”
“I just know. Women know all manner of things. I also know that this one is going to stay with us. When the nightmares come, just know that very soon you will be holding a new life.”
A knot lodged in his throat, his chest tightened to such an extent that he feared he might never again breathe. Bending slightly, he pressed a kiss beside the place where her hand rested over his. He lifted his gaze to hers. “No matter what happens, Julia, no matter how much you may find me changed, know that there is nothing in this world that I want more than I want this child to be born healthy and strong. There is nothing I want more than for you and him to be well and happy.”
As he laid his cheek against her, felt her fingers combing gently through his hair, it occurred to him that never in his life had he spoken truer words.
Edward awoke with the realization that his cock obviously cared not one whit whose luscious backside it was pressed against, or how inappropriate it was to be nudging a woman he should never desire.
When they returned to the bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms went around her and he wanted her near, wanted to offer comfort to her as she had offered it to him. Not that she was aware she was in need of comfort, but she would be eventually. Perhaps if he were tender now, she would be more willing to accept his condolences later.
He’d been able to ward off any recurring nightmares by focusing on how soft and pliable she felt in his arms. Her rosewater fragrance. Whenever the image of her naked in the bed had danced through his mind, he shoved it aside, although it kept teasing him from a distance. She was his brother’s wife. He’d failed miserably, striving to recall any one of the countless other women he’d been with over the years, and his last thought before drifting off had been of Julia’s small feet cupped in his large hands.
He’d betrayed Albert in the garden that long ago night. He certainly wasn’t going to betray his trust in death. He was merely going to carry through on his promise and then be done with her.
Lifting up slightly, he gazed down on her profile. She looked so innocent in sleep, with one hand curled on the pillow, the fingers of her other hand interlaced with his and resting just below her breasts. He could feel the movements of her soft breaths. He had an insane urge to lean over farther and press a kiss to her slightly parted lips.
Last night she’d nearly brought him to his knees with her kindness. He’d not expected that, had been unprepared for it. He was going to have to remain ever vigilant lest he become so comfortable around her that he revealed his true self, gave himself away.
Her eyes fluttered open and he stared into the depths of a vast ocean in which he could easily drown. “Morning,” she said softly.
He wanted to draw her in closer, stay with her for the remainder of the day. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I should probably check on our guests.”
“Probably. I’ll be down after breakfast.”
Before he could decipher that statement, a knock sounded on the door.
“There it is now,” she said. “I told Torrie not to let me sleep in.”
“I’ll see you later, then,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before leaving the bed and going into his chamber.
As he heard her bade her maid to enter, he leaned against the closed door and breathed a deep sigh. He’d managed to get through the night without giving himself away, although there had been moments when he’d dearly wanted to confess all. He had to remind himself that she was only being kind toward him because she believed he was Albert.
Shoving himself away from the door, he yanked on the bellpull to summon his valet and then immediately stilled. When had he begun to think of Marlow as his valet and not Albert’s? He supposed it was a good thing that he was settling into the role. He simply needed to remember that none of this was permanent. Once the heir arrived, he would merely serve as guardian over his nephew’s domain until he reached his majority. Then he would carry on with his life. He didn’t need to get too comfortable here.
Julia was so certain she was carrying a boy. Surely women sensed those things. He wouldn’t even consider that his brother’s heir would not be arriving shortly.
After his valet prepared him for the day, Edward made his way down to the breakfast dining room. Ashe and Locke were already seated at the table. They both looked up, studied him hard, and he wondered if he’d sprouted a pair of horns.
“How was your night?” Ashe asked.
“Restless. Julia is having breakfast in bed.”
“So is Minerva. That is what ladies do.”
As he went to the sideboard, he almost asked if that was true of all ladies. His associations with women usually didn’t offer the luxury of lingering until breakfast. He wondered what else he didn’t know about them.
He almost took the chair beside Ashe before remembering that his place was now at the head of the table. He’d avoided this moment, taking meals in his room. He could feel Ashe and Locke studying him, wondered if they could sense the battle with which he was grappling. He had to take that chair as though he had sat in it the entirety of his adult life. Avoiding their gazes, setting down his plate, he dragged the chair back and dropped into it, once again hit with the devastation of loss. Would he ever sit here and not feel like a usurper? It’s only temporary until the heir is born.
As casually as possible, he began slicing the ham. “What else do ladies do?”
“Keep us gents waiting,” Ashe said, as though unaware of the emotions rioting through Edward, as though accustomed to Edward sitting at the head of the table.
“Drive us to madness,” Locke said at the same time.
Grinning, Edward shifted his gaze between his friends. “We obviously all view women differently.”
And the servants had ears, even if they were supposed to keep their mouths shut. He wished he could send the butler and footman from the room. Instead, he sipped his tea and refrained from adding more sugar.
“I know the extent of your grief is immeasurable,” Locke said quietly. “If you like, I could stay a couple of days to help you get the estate’s affairs in order after your long sojourn.”
“That’s kind of you, but unnecessary. I feel up to the task of meeting with the steward later this morning.” On more than one occasion when visiting, Edward had sat in the library and observed Albert handling his estates. While impatient, ready to be off carousing, surely he’d retained a bit of knowledge.
“Well, if you find yourself in need of assistance, don’t hesitate to ask,” Locke insisted.
“Afraid I can’t offer you the same consideration,” Ashe said. “I find managing estates to be a bit more formidable than Locke does.”
“It gets easier over time. It also helps if you grew up there. While I’m sorry you didn’t get to live on your estates until you reached your majority, I am grateful you were both about Havisham to stop my life from being so lonely.” With a slight grin, he looked at Edward. “Do you remember when your brother found a way for us to get up on the roof?”
They’d only been at Havisham for a few days. “We were planning to run off. He was hoping to get a glimpse of Evermore so we’d know in which direction to go.”
“It was my first real adventure. I was terrified I was going to slide off.”
“You wouldn’t have gone far. We were all joined with a rope tied about our waists.”
“All that ensured was that we would all slide off together.”
“Which was the point,” Ashe said. “If one of us went, we all went.”
“That is not how my brother explained it to me.”
Ashe shrugged. “But that was the truth of it. We became fast friends so quickly. Remarkable, really.”
They had become more than friends. Nearly brothers.
“Do you remember when the Gypsies came through?” Locke asked. “Your brother wanted us to leave with them.”
“He fell in love with one of the girls,” Edward admitted. “She let him kiss her. He worried for the longest time that he’d gotten her with child.”
“From a kiss?” Ashe asked.
Edward grinned. “We were ten. What did we know? He finally gathered up enough courage to ask the marquess.”
Locke’s eyes widened. “That’s the reason he took us to a tenant’s farm to watch a pair of horses breeding?”
Edward chuckled. “I suspect so, yes. I remember all the questions we had afterward. Not that we dared ask him.”
“He would have done better taking us to a brothel,” Ashe said.
“We were lads. They’d have not let us through the door. Besides, I have such lovely memories of time spent with the farmer’s daughter years later.”
“She was sweet,” Ashe said with a grin.
“But she only liked novices. Told her I was my brother, so I got to experience her twice. Thought he’d be mad at me for denying him his turn with her. Then I found out he was spending time with a tavern girl in the village.”
“He never was one for competing,” Ashe said.
“When he put his mind to it, though, he could drink us all under the table,” Locke pointed out.
“Then the next morning when we were all sick as dogs, he’d walk about gloating,” Edward reminded them, smiling at the memory.
“He was obnoxious about it,” Ashe recalled.
“I would have been as well if I suffered no ill effects.”
“How did he manage it?” Locke asked.
“I’m not convinced he actually drank,” Edward admitted.
“But I saw him downing the swill.”
“He sipped, he never downed. He filled the glasses, only made it appear he was filling his own.”
“You really think he pulled one over on us?”
Edward nodded. “I do. My brother was not always a paragon of virtue.”
“I should say not,” Ashe began. “Do you remember the time . . .”
Julia heard the laughter as she neared the breakfast dining room. Smiling, she leaned against the wall and absorbed the sweetness of joy, so grateful for it, so glad that Albert had his friends to distract him from his sorrow. It was odd how she could distinguish Albert’s laughter from the others’. It was a bit deeper, a little more free, as though he enjoyed life a bit more than they did.
It was marvelous to awaken in his arms. They would move forward one day at a time and eventually the grief would ebb away, although she was beginning to realize that she might not have the exact Albert she’d had before. How could she? After months apart, she wasn’t exactly the same either. Never before had she been completely without male supervision. Although she’d missed Albert dreadfully, she’d found her time alone quite liberating.
At the click of approaching footsteps, she glanced to the side and smiled at Minerva.
“Are we hiding out?” Minerva asked as she neared.
“I’m eavesdropping on their laughter. I feared it might be a while before any was echoing through the residence again.”
“Something about masculine laughter is very satisfying.”
“I can’t recall Albert ever being quite so boisterous.”
“They’re different when no ladies are about.”
“I rather regret that we’ll be disturbing them, but I suppose we must.”
“Before they discover we’re out here listening. I don’t think they’ll appreciate our taking advantage.”
Albert most certainly would not. With a deep breath, Julia led the way into the dining room. The laughter immediately abated, replaced by the scraping of chairs over flooring as the men came to their feet.
“We didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said as she crossed over to be nearer to her husband. He appeared less troubled, more himself, and she was grateful for the friendship he’d developed with these men.
“We were finished,” he assured her.
“It was good to hear you laugh.”
“Our youth provided ample opportunity for such. We were recalling some of the jollier moments.”
“But we must away now,” Ashe said. “While the weather holds.”
Coaches were brought round, trunks loaded, and in no time at all they were standing outside with the chilled wind whipping around them.
“You will send word if you need anything,” Minerva said to her.
All she needed was time alone with her husband. He was speaking with the duke and viscount, so serious again. “I will, thank you.”
As their guests climbed into their respective carriages, Albert came over to stand beside her. “It’s cold out. You should be inside.”
Slipping her arm around his, she was aware of him stiffening. “The sun is peering through the clouds. I could do with some sun.”
He lifted a hand as the drivers urged the horses forward. She waved, wondering if things would ever again feel normal. They stood there, facing outward for the longest time, until the coaches were out of sight.
“What now?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t retreat back into his rooms.
He kept his gaze on the road, and she wondered if he wished he were in one of the carriages. “I’m meeting with Bocock in a bit. I need to prepare for that.” With her arm nestled in his, he began escorting her up the stairs. “I know I’ve already said it once, but I can’t thank you enough for handling and arranging everything so expertly. I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”
“I hope you never have to find out.”
There was the flinch again. If she hadn’t been touching him, she wouldn’t have been aware of it. She thought they’d reconnected in the early hours of the morning, but right then she felt a chill coming from him that was colder than the air whipping around them.