Chelsea did not return to the gentleman’s bed-chamber that day, for her mother insisted she spend time with Melissa outdoors, and after lunch she sent her on a long errand to deliver bread to two different neighbors who lived quite a distance apart from each other in opposite directions. Clearly it was a scheme to keep her occupied, so she would not sit at the man’s bedside all day, because he was, according to her mother, a crazy person.
The maids took charge of bringing his meals, and the doctor returned in the evening to reexamine him and change his dressing. Dr. Melville informed the family just before dinner that the patient was doing well. He was gaining strength and would soon be up and around.
For that reason, Chelsea’s mother reiterated the importance of keeping him locked in the bed-chamber, for they still could not be sure that he was not a raving lunatic. What would they do if he came at them at night brandishing another candlestick? Or worse, a kitchen knife?
Chelsea did not argue with her. She certainly did not mention the fact that he told her he still woke up wanting to kill someone.
That night in bed she lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, thinking of the conversation she’d had with him earlier that day while everyone was at church.
It was a strange thing, talking to a beautiful man with no name or identity. It was almost as if he did not exist, as if he were a fictional character from one her stories. A figment of her richly textured imagination.
He was not, of course. He was a flesh-and-blood man, and a handsome one, at that, with broad shoulders and dark, silky hair. She couldn’t have invented anyone better to play the part of a handsome hero, and when she’d stood in his room earlier, looking down at him in the bed while he paid her compliments, she felt almost intoxicated by sexuality.
If this were a story born from her imagination, what would happen next? she wondered. How would she write it?
She tucked an arm under her head and smiled. She knew exactly how she would plot it. He would become her secret lover. They would enjoy each other until they were satisfied, and no one would be the wiser. No one would ever know she had secretly experienced scandalous sexual pleasures with a nameless stranger in a locked bedchamber. It would be as if it never happened, and Lord Jerome would never know the difference. He already presumed, like the rest of the world, that she was not a virgin, and he would not expect to see blood on the sheets on their wedding night. So what would it matter? She felt no high, moral desire to save herself for him. Why should she? She was already sacrificing everything else.
She rolled onto her side, rested her cheek on the back of her hand, and imagined what it would be like to let the nameless guest seduce her, or better yet, for her to seduce him. But that was veering a little too far into the world of fiction, because she wouldn’t have a clue how to go about that. She had no experience. Despite what the world thought, she was a virgin, pure as fresh fallen snow.
Chelsea smiled. She certainly did have a vivid imagination. But that, unfortunately, was how it would remain, because if she were to do something so wild and reckless in real life, she would, with her luck, end up at the altar to marry Lord Jerome already carrying another man’s child in her womb, and wouldn’t that be a fine ball of wax?
She blinked a few times, then sat up.
What if she did seduce the man whose life she had saved? What if she did become pregnant?
Her heart began to race. Who would ever have to know? And more importantly, who would ever know it was not Sebastian’s and Melissa’s baby?
Overcome with curiosity—could such a plan really work?—she tossed the covers aside, hopped out of bed, and reached for her wrapper. She flew out of the room to go and wake her brother.
Ten minutes later Chelsea was sitting in the library with Sebastian and Melissa, by the light of a single kerosene lamp.
“Have you lost your mind?” her brother asked. “Honestly, Chel, I think you need to get off this island. You’ve been here too long. You’re starting to believe in your own inventions.”
Melissa sat quietly on the sofa, her lips parted, her eyes wide with astonishment.
Sebastian paced around the room. “This is my fault. I spoiled you too much when you were a child. I should have been more strict like Father, instead of feeding your imagination and letting you do whatever you damn well pleased.”
“That is not true,” she said. “You kept me from going mad all those years ago. It was because of Father that I ran away and eloped. I knew he wanted to marry me off to a man of his choosing to further his political career, and I couldn’t do it. I valued my freedom too much.”
“Just like you value it now,” Sebastian said. “Quite selfishly, I might add, when this family’s future is at stake.”
She sat forward. “But what I am suggesting will secure our future. Can you not see that?”
He stopped pacing and faced her. “All I see is my far too creative sister concocting a lunatic plan to escape the duty which is being pressed upon her. Just like the last time.”
She paused and sat back. “Yes, I suppose I must concede that that is correct.”
“But did you learn nothing from that?” he asked incredulously. “You were ousted from society, for pity’s sake!”
But Chelsea was not yet ready to retreat. She could not bear to think of the dismal life she would lead if she did not make an attempt at this alternative. “I’ve been very happy as an outcast. I have my freedom. I can write and live as I please. I enjoy my solitude.”
“But if you had a child for us,” Melissa interjected, “you would be sacrificing your own future. At present you have a chance to be married and have children of your own. Not secretly, but legally and without shame.”
Chelsea looked down at her hands in her lap. “I’m afraid, for me, that would be a far greater sacrifice, Melissa, for I cannot imagine bearing Lord Jerome’s children.” She shivered with revulsion at the thought. “Try to imagine how unhappy I would be. Truly, Sebastian, I don’t think I could survive my wedding night. I would drown myself in my bathtub before he knocked on my door. Or worse, drown him before he had a chance to kick off his slippers.”
“Would it really be so bad?” her brother asked, stopping in the middle of the room and frowning down at her with concern.
“Honestly? I don’t think I can possibly convey in words the despair I would feel as I became nothing more than a breeding factory for such a vile and repulsive man. He is not kind. You know that about him. I would rather not have children at all than allow him to be a father to them. And I have no doubt he would be cruel to me if I ever denied him his husbandly rights. Try to understand that, Sebastian. I could not bear it. I wish only for a way out, no matter how preposterous it might seem to you.”
Her brother sank into a chair beside her and cupped his forehead in a hand. For a long time he sat in silence with his eyes closed, then at last he spoke. His voice was quiet and resigned.
“I’m sorry, Chelsea,” he said. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own responsibilities and failures that I have not stopped to think about what it would be like for you. What it would really be like. I should have considered your happiness before I took Mother’s side today. It was wrong of me to push you to marry our cousin. I hope you can forgive me.”
She lifted her gaze, and thought of all the days on the lake with Sebastian when she was a little girl, no more than five years old—casting a line, swinging a fish into the boat, laughing and learning. He had been the one person who understood her need to be free in a soulful way—to connect with nature, to explore the natural world.
“But I still do not think this is the solution,” he said nevertheless.
They were all quiet for a long time, then Chelsea stood and walked to the window. “Mother said I have dragged you all down, and for that reason, she believes I have a debt to pay. You must believe me when I tell you that this would at least be a debt I would enjoy paying.”
“Are you saying you wish to do this for your own pleasure?” her brother asked with utter disbelief.
Melissa rose and joined Chelsea at the window. She spoke quietly. “How can you be sure you would enjoy it, Chelsea? We know nothing about this man. You are forgetting that he attacked you last night.”
“No, I am not forgetting. He apologized for that, and I believe he was sincere.”
“Well, he is definitely more attractive than Lord Jerome,” Melissa said after some consideration.
“That is hardly the point, darling,” Sebastian said.
“I think it has some bearing on it,” his wife argued.
Chelsea interjected. “She’s right. It does indeed have some bearing. I am not going to deny it. A few nights with that handsome stranger would be far preferable to a lifetime of the equivalent with our despicable cousin.”
That was putting it mildly. She had already entertained a number of exotic dreams about this particular stranger’s hands on her body.
“That man down the hall is not a stud for hire,” Sebastian said with a slight scolding tone. “And what happens when he remembers who he is? Have either of you considered that? If he is a gentleman, as you believe he is, he may want to do the honorable thing and marry you, whether you are with child or not.”
Chelsea shook her head. “No. As far as he is concerned, it would be nothing more than a few wild nights of debauchery, and he would be long gone by the time my belly grew round. I doubt he would suspect anything if I seduced him. He already knows I am ruined.”
“How does he know that?” Sebastian asked.
“I told him so.”
“Just like that. You told him. Out of the blue, you said, ‘By the way, I am soiled goods.’”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s quite accurate.”
Sebastian rose to his feet and strolled to the window. “It is a risky plan.”
Melissa went to him and took his hand in hers. “But it could work, darling. You could have an heir—a Neufeld heir. And I could be a mother.”
“But the child would not be a legitimate issue,” he said. “The title cannot pass through a daughter.”
“But no one would know,” Melissa repeated.
“It is dishonest,” he said.
“The dishonesty you are referring to is a legal matter, and an unfair law in my opinion, that a title cannot pass through a daughter. Family blood is family blood, but that is another debate.” She squeezed Sebastian’s hand. “In our hearts the child would be legitimate. He or she would have your father’s blood running through his veins, in a direct line through Chelsea. We are a married couple. We have been so for ten years. If we are blessed with a boy, he would be our son, without question, both in our eyes and in the eyes of the world. Why shouldn’t he inherit your title?”
Sebastian touched her cheek and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
“It might just as easily be a daughter,” he reminded her.
“He is right,” Chelsea said from the sofa, where she now sat. “It is important that we are prepared for such an outcome.”
Melissa turned to her. “I hear that if you eat asparagus, it increases the likelihood of a boy.”
“Then I shall tell Cook to serve it tomorrow.”
Sebastian turned his gaze to her. “So you have decided, then. You are determined to do this? There is nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“And decide I would prefer to marry Lord Jerome after all? Believe me, I shall never choose that option. This way, I will have done my duty for you and Mother, and I shall not have to worry about her trying to marry me off ever again.”
“But what if it could be someone you loved?” he pressed. “What if you fall in love with this man?”
“That is a very distinct possibility,” Melissa abruptly said, not having thought of it before. “What would you do?”
Chelsea considered it for a moment. “I shall make every effort to prevent that from happening. I will not let my heart become engaged. But even if it did, I would simply be broken-hearted, which is nothing I haven’t experienced before, so I know I would get over it eventually. At least this time there would be a silver lining, because you and Sebastian would have a child. It is worth a few tears.”
Melissa gave a melancholy sigh, then her expression grew forlorn. “But what will your mother think?”
Sebastian went to pour himself a drink. “Does she even have to know?”
Chelsea looked at him with dismay. “How in the world would we keep it from her?”
He took a sip of his brandy and set down the glass. “The same way most English ladies keep their illegitimate children secret. We would hide your condition for as long as possible, then the three of us would go on an extended holiday.”
Melissa’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “Switzerland. I would love to see the Alps.”
Chelsea moved forward, took hold of her sister-in-law’s hands and gazed at her with affection. “Then that is where we will go.”