Chapter Twelve
“Jane!” Alex grasped Jane’s arms to steady her after she collided with him.
Lord, it was so good to see her, to feel her body against his. He’d tried to scrub the memory of their time together at Chanton Manor, especially their two brief encounters in the garden, from his thoughts, but now every detail came roaring back—
Even the one where Jane shoved on his chest to get free of him, which was exactly what she was doing now.
He let her go. What a bloody fool he’d been to think she’d welcome him. He’d come to see Marcus. He should have gone directly to the castle. He—
“Lord Evans, thank God you’re here!”
His brows shot up and he grinned. Ah. This was better . . .
No, Jane’s face was flushed, her bosom heaving. There was panic in her eyes.
His heart leapt into his throat. “Zeus, is there an intruder in the house? Where is he? Tell me. I’ll take care of him.” He stepped past her, putting his body between her and any danger. “Show yourself immediately, sirrah!”
Miss Wilkinson tugged on his arm. “No, there’s no intruder.” She frowned, apparently just now realizing he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. “Why are you here?”
“I’m checking on Marcus. Nate wrote asking me to come since he couldn’t leave his wife to come himself.”
Fortunately, she let that go. It was true, but it didn’t answer the question of why he was here in the Spinster House and not at Loves Castle where he’d be a lot more likely to find Marcus.
She’d probably berate me if I told her I’ve missed her.
She kept showing up in his dreams—and not just the salacious ones. And she drifted into his waking thoughts as well. He’d be working on household accounts and would picture her putting on her glasses to examine the ledger. Or he’d be riding over his estate and catch himself wondering what she would say about a certain view.
“Well, it’s good that you’re here now. You must go get Mrs. Hutting immediately.”
“Why?” For the life of him, he could not think of a single reason anyone would need to make an emergency dash to the vicar’s wife.
“Because Cat is going to have her baby, that’s why!”
“How do you know?” Surely the duchess was at Loves Castle. She was very pregnant. She wouldn’t be wandering the countryside . . . would she?
“Because she’s upstairs. How else would I know? Now hurry.”
“Upstairs?” He glanced nervously at the staircase. “Who’s with her?”
“Poppy.”
“Poppy?! You left a cat to keep watch over a woman in labor?”
“What else was I supposed to do? Send Poppy to get Mrs. Hutting?”
“No, of course not.” He stepped back outside. “You go keep the duchess company. I’ll fetch Mrs. Hutting straightaway.”
Jane put her hand on his arm. “And after you send Cat’s mother over, could you find the duke?” She frowned and said, a bit anxiously, “But don’t tell him why he’s needed. Cat doesn’t want to, er, cause him to take any risks.”
“Right.” The mind was a powerful thing. If Marcus knew the duchess was in labor, he might feel the curse breathing down his neck and do something foolish.
Sometimes the difference between life and death was one single misstep.
“Where is he? I assume he brought Cat into the village?”
Miss Wilkinson shook her head. “No. Cat came in with her sister Mary while the duke was off at Lord Davenport’s. He probably has no notion Cat is here.”
Likely not. Alex couldn’t see Marcus being happy about his duchess traveling anywhere without him so close to her time.
“Very well. Leave the duke to me. You go up and sit with the duchess.”
Miss Wilkinson suddenly turned a bit green. “Do get Mrs. Hutting to hurry. I don’t know the first thing about babies.”
He put a bracing hand on her shoulder. “That’s all right. You don’t need to know anything. Just keep Cat company for the few minutes it will take for her mother to get there.”
They heard a loud moan coming from upstairs.
“Go on.”
Miss Wilkinson nodded. “Tell Mrs. Hutting to come straight up,” she said, and then headed for the stairs, quickening her pace when they heard another moan.
Brave woman. He felt a surge of pride—
No, pride implied a connection they didn’t yet have—and might never have. Admiration. That’s what he felt.
He ran across the road to the vicarage. The duchess’s youngest brothers, four-year-old twins, opened the door when Alex knocked. Identical faces grinned up at him—and then looked behind him. When they saw he was alone, their faces fell.
“Where’s dook?” one boy asked.
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I’m going to find him after I speak to your mother. May I come in?”
“Course.” The door swung open. “She’s in Papa’s study with Papa and Mary.”
“What’s going on, boys?” The vicar poked his head out of a nearby room. “Oh, Lord Evans.” He smiled. “Do come in.” He stood aside for Alex to enter. “You know my wife and daughter Mary, of course.”
Alex executed a short bow. “Ladies.” Mary looked very pregnant herself—she was due at roughly the same time as the duchess. He did hope she would wait her turn.
“What brings you to the vicarage, Lord Evans?” Mrs. Hutting asked. “Can I offer you some tea?” She gestured to the pot at her elbow.
“Or would you rather have brandy?” the vicar asked.
“Neither, I’m afraid.” He turned to Mrs. Hutting. “I’ve been sent by Miss Wilkinson to ask you to come without delay to the Spinster House, madam.”
Mrs. Hutting rose quickly to her feet. “Cat stopped there to visit.” Her voice was tense. “Is she all right?”
“She seems to be in labor, madam.”
Mary gasped, but Mrs. Hutting nodded in what seemed a competent fashion.
“Very well. I’ll come at once.”
“Is Cat having her baby, Mama?” one of the twins asked.
“Yes, she is, Tom.”
“She’s early.” Mary sounded nervous. “She’s not too early, is she, Mama?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Mrs. Hutting was now all business. She turned to her husband. “We’ll need Mrs. Danford”—she looked at Alex—“that’s the midwife.” She frowned. “I believe she’s visiting her sister over in Little Darrow.”
Blast! “Is that far?” Alex tried to sound calm, but he could just imagine how Jane would feel if she heard this news.
“It’s just the next village over. Too far to walk, but not far on horseback,” the vicar said. “I’ll send Henry on my horse to fetch her. He and Walter should be in their room, working on their translations.” He left, taking the twins with him.
Mrs. Hutting frowned. “I do hope Mrs. Danford is still at her sister’s and not out attending someone else. Well, I suppose in a pinch there’s the London doctor Lord Davenport engaged for Lady Davenport—unless she’s gone into labor, too.” She smiled. “Is someone fetching the duke, Lord Evans?”
“No, madam. Finding the duke is next on the list of duties Miss Wilkinson assigned me.”
Mrs. Hutting laughed. “She’s probably frantic.”
“I do believe she would welcome your prompt appearance.” An understatement. Jane was very likely on her knees, if only figuratively, pleading with the Almighty to hurry Mrs. Hutting along.
“What can I do, Mama?” Mary asked.
“Nothing, dear. Just stay here and rest. I don’t want poor Mrs. Danford to have to deliver two babies today.”
“N-no.” Mary looked a bit nervous at that thought.
“Now, don’t worry,” Mrs. Hutting said. “You should be fine, but if you do have need of me, send Walter or Pru or Sybbie—they are probably in the schoolroom. Or even the twins. I’ll only be cross the street.”
“What about Papa?”
“I think—oh, there you are.”
The vicar came into the study as a gangling youth of sixteen or seventeen darted out the front door behind him.
“Yes, here I am and ready for my next instructions.”
“I assume you’ll help Lord Evans find the duke.” Mrs. Hutting finally started for the door. She paused—and Alex had to struggle with himself to keep from pushing her on her way. “Though perhaps you shouldn’t tell him Cat is in labor.” She frowned. “The curse, you know.”
Her husband nodded. “Yes. Right. Don’t want to cause His Grace any anxiety about that, though I suppose it’s always at the back of the poor boy’s mind.”
“And the back of Cat’s,” Mary said.
The Huttings stood there, apparently considering the matter of the curse.
Alex cleared his throat. “Mrs. Hutting? Miss Wilkinson and the duchess eagerly await your presence.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. I’m off.”
This time he didn’t believe the woman was actually on her way until she stepped out the door, and even then he considered following her to be certain she didn’t get detained in conversation with one of the villagers.
“Now, Lord Evans,” the vicar said, “what’s your plan with regard to the duke?”
Alex hadn’t formulated one yet. “Miss Wilkinson told me the duke had gone to visit Lord Davenport. Is that correct, Mrs. Dunly?”
The vicar and Mary stared at him blankly for a moment.
“Oh!” Mary said. “You mean me.” She laughed. “I’m still getting used to that name. Please call me Mary.” She nodded. “Yes, Theodore and the duke went together to visit the baron. After they left, Cat and I decided to come see Mama.” Mary chewed her lip, looking rather pale again. “Do you suppose it was riding in the pony cart that caused Cat to go into labor early?”
“I doubt it,” the vicar said.
Alex had no idea, but having Mary work herself into a lather worrying wouldn’t help anyone. “Your mother did say she didn’t think the baby was that early.” He smiled. “My oldest niece came three weeks before she was expected and all was well.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Mary said, seeming to relax.
The vicar gave him a grateful look. “Now, my lord, I believe we should see if we can find my son-in-law. Do you know if Theodore and the duke planned a long visit with Lord Davenport, Mary?”
“They said they might be gone an hour or two. The duke wanted to get some matters settled before Lady Davenport has her baby.” Mary smiled, putting a hand on her rather sizable belly. “And before Cat and I have ours.”
According to Diana, Imogen was also increasing.
Zeus, Loves Bridge was experiencing a veritable population explosion. How did Jane feel, surrounded by so much fecundity?
The most relevant of his organs would like to—
He should not be having such thoughts in a vicar’s study. And to be honest, he wouldn’t be surprised if Jane swore off childbearing after today. He did hope Mrs. Hutting had arrived to rescue her.
Idiot! Miss Wilkinson had already sworn off childbearing. As she’d pointed out to him several times, she was the Spinster House spinster.
Well, there was Isabelle Dorring’s example....
Nonsense. Jane was far too wise to follow in Isabelle’s footsteps.
Yet Cat, he was quite certain, had also conceived while still in the Spinster House.
If Jane—
Blast it all, he had to stop thinking about Jane this way. If she was indeed a dedicated spinster, he needed to respect that. And he’d promised himself not to consider changing his own unmarried state until he felt confident that he could trust his instincts. If he was lusting after a woman who had quite clearly expressed her complete lack of desire for marriage in general and him in particular, his instincts were still sadly unreliable.
And yet the first place he’d ridden was not the castle, but the Spinster House.
Instinct, good or bad, told him he and Jane had some unfinished business between them. At a minimum, they needed to discuss what had happened in Roger and Diana’s garden.
Or at least he needed to discuss it.
And Rachel thinks Jane loves me. . . .
What the hell did an eight-year-old girl know about such matters?
He forced his attention back to the issue at hand. “How long have you been here, Mrs.—I mean, Mary?”
Mary looked at the clock. “About an hour.”
“I see. So the duke and your husband could still be at Davenport Hall.”
“Or they might be on their way back to the castle. We’ll have to account for both possibilities.” The vicar looked at Mary. “You’ll be all right while we’re gone? I can get Walter or Pru to sit with you.”
Mary laughed. “Having one of them staring at me wouldn’t help anything. I’ll be fine on my own.”
The vicar nodded. “We’ll send Theodore to fetch you when we find him and the duke. Since Henry has taken my horse, I’ll have to take your cart.”
Alex and the vicar left the vicarage and walked briskly toward Cupid’s Inn, where the pony cart and Alex’s horse were stabled. As they passed the Spinster House, Alex glanced over to see Poppy on the front step, cleaning her side. She paused and looked up as they walked by.
He had the silliest urge to ask the animal if all was well.
I’ve not only lost my instincts, I’ve lost my mind.
At least Mrs. Hutting was there now and, with luck, the midwife would be there soon. Jane didn’t have to deal with things by herself any longer. And then once the baby was born and they got Marcus safely to meet him, the Spinster House curse would officially be broken.
“Do you give any credence to the curse, sir?” he asked the vicar.
To his surprise, Cat’s father didn’t immediately scoff at the notion.
“I’m a man of the cloth, Lord Evans. My life is spent contemplating things we cannot see or hear, taste or touch, things that can’t be proven by any scientific method.”
“But, sir! A curse?”
The vicar smiled. “Well, yes. I don’t believe in witches and magic. But I do believe men can create their own burdens—or curses, if you will.”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me there, sir.”
“Think about it, Lord Evans. Two hundred years ago, a desperate woman lashed out at the man who got her with child, and then she vanished. Everyone said she drowned herself. How could the man ever atone for what he’d done?”
“He couldn’t.”
The vicar nodded. “And how would you feel if you were that man?”
Alex could say how he felt right now—outraged at the mere thought of such a thing. “I would never behave in such a way!”
“Perhaps not, but indulge me for a moment and imagine you had. How would you feel?”
The notion was revolting. “If I had a shred of honor, I’d feel guilty, of course.”
The vicar nodded. “I expect you would. Crushing guilt, guilt you could never absolve yourself of.” He looked at Alex. “You’d feel cursed, wouldn’t you?”
Alex blinked. “Yes, I suppose I would.”
“You might feel that since the woman and child had died, you didn’t deserve to live, either. Certainly you didn’t deserve to be happy.”
“Y-yes, I think you’re right.”
“Oh, dear,” the vicar muttered suddenly, “here come the Boltwoods. Just smile and bow and, whatever you do, keep moving.”
Alex snapped his head around—he’d been directing all his attention at the vicar—and saw the two white-haired ladies leave the village shop and scurry across the green toward them. Their mouths were opening—
The vicar held up his hand, never breaking stride. “Truly sorry. No time to stop.”
They left the women, jaws dangling, behind and crossed the road to the inn.
“One thing I do know,” the vicar said as they entered the inn-yard, “in the great poet Virgil’s words, ‘omnia vincit amor’—‘Love conquers all.’ I feel certain the duke and my daughter love each other very much, so I’m not worried that they’ll come to harm.” He clapped Alex on the shoulder. “Now let’s go find him, shall we?”
They waited while the ostler got Alex’s horse and the pony cart ready and then headed out. Alex, following behind the vicar, watched the man bounce around whenever the convenience hit a rut. He knew nothing about the care of pregnant females, but he couldn’t think it a good thing for a woman so close to her time to be jostled about like that. Perhaps they were lucky Mary’s baby wasn’t trying to put in an appearance as well.
The vicar stopped when the road divided, and Alex came up beside him.
“Here’s where our paths diverge, Lord Evans. I’ll take the left fork toward Davenport Hall, and you can take the right to the castle. Will that suit?”
Alex nodded. “And what will you tell Marcus if you find him, sir? He’s sure to think of your daughter and the baby when he sees you.”
“Yes. We don’t want the poor fellow rushing to Cat’s side and breaking his neck on the way, do we? Hmm.” The vicar rubbed his chin. “I have it. We’ve been discussing various structural problems with the church. I’ll tell him something new has developed that requires his immediate attention.” He grinned. “I’m sure Our Lord will forgive me a little white lie in this instance. And what will you tell him?”
“That Lord Haywood asked me to stop by and see how he goes on.”
The vicar’s brows rose. “And that’s your only reason for coming to Loves Bridge?”
“Er, yes.” No point in mentioning Miss Wilkinson when his hopes—or whatever he had—might be dashed.
“I see.” The vicar smiled a little too knowingly. “I believe the Lord will forgive you your white lie as well.”
“Nate really did write me.”
“I’m sure he did.” The vicar nodded and then set the pony into motion.
Alex watched the cart rumble off. Why the hell did everyone wish to busy themselves in his business? At least Marcus wouldn’t bother him about Miss Wilkinson.
“Come on, Horatio. Let’s go find the duke.”
Horatio didn’t need to be asked twice—he’d been chafing at the bit, forced to walk at a snail’s pace behind the pony cart. He surged into a gallop, and for a moment Alex felt the exhilaration he always did when astride his horse, flying over the countryside.
But there was no way to outrun his thoughts.
To be honest, he’d been fighting with himself ever since the christening party.
Every time he visited Chanton Manor, his sister mentioned Miss Wilkinson. She corresponded with Imogen, so she often had news of Jane. Which was fine. Good. He wanted to hear how Miss Wilkinson went on. The problem was, Diana wouldn’t leave it at that. She always found a way to work in the question of his interest in the spinster. Even Bea and Rachel and the other girls had taken to asking him when he was going to try his luck with her again.
At least Roger had held his tongue on the subject.
Should he try his luck again? Was Rachel right that Jane loved him?
But then why had she ended their kiss so abruptly that night in the garden?
He’d planned to write her and beg her forgiveness if he’d insulted her, but he hadn’t been able to find the words. The few kisses they’d exchanged had been quite chaste, hardly more than the peck on the cheek you’d give an elderly aunt.
But they had felt like so much more, at least to him.
In any event, even if he could have puzzled out what to say, sending Jane a letter would likely have started the village buzzing and caused her more problems. There were no secrets in Loves Bridge.
So when he’d got Nate’s letter asking him to visit the castle he was all too happy to oblige. He could see how things went on with Marcus and then visit the Spinster House and make any needed apologies.
Only he’d gone to the Spinster House first. Fortunately, as it turned out. If he hadn’t, Miss Wilkinson would have had to leave the duchess alone with Poppy while she fetched Mrs. Hutting.
Poppy seemed a very competent—almost supernatural—cat, but she was a cat.
He glanced around. There was still no sign of Marcus.
His thoughts went back to the Spinster House. Zeus, when Jane had crashed into him, he’d wanted to throw his arms around her, bury his face in her hair, and never let her go. When he’d thought her in danger, he’d been ready to tear the intruder’s throat out with his bare hands.
And just the short, straightforward conversation they’d had had made him far too happy.
His gut told him Rachel was correct in at least one of her observations—he loved Jane. But then, he’d thought he’d loved Charlotte.
Lord, the indecision—and the longing—were driving him mad.
Horatio suddenly picked up his pace. Why? Oh! Marcus was riding toward them, along with Theodore Dunly. Horatio knew George, Marcus’s horse, from their frequent rides together.
Blast, Marcus looked worried.
“Marcus! I was just on my way to see you,” he said as he reached them. Now that he thought of it, this was the direction he’d be traveling if he were coming from Evans Hall. No need to even let on he’d stopped in the village first. He smiled at Mary’s husband. “Good day to you, Mr. Dunly.”
“We can’t stop, Alex,” Marcus said. “Ride with us.”
“Of course. Is something amiss?” Surely the curse didn’t have a way of alerting the duke when his wife went into labor?
“My wife and the duchess took our pony cart into the village while the duke and I were at Davenport Hall,” Mr. Dunly said rather tensely.
Marcus scowled. “They had no business rattling over the countryside in that vehicle.”
Alex knew Marcus well. He sounded angry, but he was actually frantic with worry.
“It’s not a long journey, is it?” Alex tried to sound soothing.
Both men glared at him.
“The women are nine months pregnant, Alex.” Marcus bit off each word. “And the cart has no springs.”
Alex nodded. Holding his tongue was clearly his best course of action here.
When they rode into the inn-yard and dismounted, the polite yet taciturn ostler Alex had encountered earlier gave a shout and came running over, a wide grin on his face. He threw his arms around Marcus and lifted him off the ground in a bear hug.
Alex saw Marcus’s shocked face over the man’s shoulder.
The ostler had seemed perfectly harmless earlier. Had he gone mad all of a sudden?
Alex started forward to intervene, but the man had already returned Marcus to earth and stepped back.
“His Grace is here!” he shouted. “He’s here!” Then he turned back to Marcus and grabbed one of Marcus’s hands in both of his. “Oh, Yer Grace, I’m so happy. And to think old Billy Binden lived to see it.”
And then the man dropped Marcus’s hand, covered his face, and started sobbing.
“My dear fellow,” Marcus said, patting the ostler awkwardly on the back. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
That stopped the waterworks.
“Ye don’t know? Of course ye don’t know.” The ostler turned to the crowd—many of whom were also sobbing—that had assembled in the inn-yard. “He doesn’t know.”
“What don’t I know?” Marcus was moving beyond shocked surprise to annoyed impatience. He clearly didn’t want to offend these people, but he desperately wanted to find his wife.
Oh! Now Alex understood.
“Tweedon, can you tell me what’s going on here?” Marcus asked of a tall, thin man with a nose that strongly resembled a parrot’s beak who was wending his way from the back of the crowd.
“Yes, Your Grace. We just got word from the Misses Boltwood that the duchess has delivered a healthy son.”
Thank God! Alex felt weak with relief. But how the hell did those two busybodies find out?
“So we all assumed you were d-d—” Tweedon took a deep breath. “No longer with us.” And then he started sobbing.
“And the duchess?” Marcus gripped the man’s shoulder. “Is she well?”
“Oh, y-yes. Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Alex finally found his voice. “At the Spinster House.”