It was another week before James resided in the same chamber as his wife—a week in which he was by turns pleased and frustrated that he kept his body from dictating his actions. As much as he wanted to bed Cecilia, he knew that engaging in marital relations would complicate their already knotty relationship—especially if they conceived a child together.
And the last thing he needed was another complication before meeting the Duke of Alston.
James stood in front of the pier glass in the chamber the newlyweds had been given at Orchard Lake, looking for imperfections in his clothing and person. He could hear Cecilia murmuring to her lady’s maid in the adjoining dressing room and wondered if she had the same jittery feeling that was growing in his limbs.
The image of the lady’s maid appeared in the glass, and James turned just in time to see her disappear through the chamber door. Cecilia appeared a moment later clad in a pale blue gown that fairly floated around her.
She approached him and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders. “Nervous?”
“Is it so obvious?”
“No, that’s why I asked,” she replied, turning him around to face the glass once again. “You look calm and confident.”
Her blue eyes peeked over his shoulder and he met her reflected gaze. “Good. Those are qualities I want your brother to associate with me. I’ve never met a duke before, and I am now related to this duke because of some less than savory circumstances. The blackmail, I mean,” he added quickly.
“Blackmail certainly qualifies as less than savory.” He could see the corner of her eyes crinkle in what must have been a smile. “Though Alston doesn’t know about that part.”
“That should help.”
She tugged gently at the hem of his coat and smoothed out the tail. “Do you remember when we first met and you found out I was Lady Cecilia?”
“I immediately wondered what I’d got myself into.”
“You could have turned tail and run, but you didn’t.”
“I was already besotted with you,” he replied slowly. “I didn’t want to run.”
She stepped beside him and threaded her arm through his. “Do you want to run now?”
“No.” He was pleasantly surprised to hear strength in his voice.
“Good. Alston likes to be shown the deference he is due as a duke, but hates being treated like an invalid—even when he is one. It’s a fine line to tread, but you managed it with me.”
Cecilia had made it clear all those years ago that she expected a certain level of conduct from him, but she’d also maintained that her relations’ interests weren’t necessarily her own. James had responded by acknowledging her social station to be above his while ignoring the implications of her surname.
Perhaps a similar approach would work with His Grace as well.
“Let’s go and find out.”
They entered the drawing room arm-in-arm and approached Alston, who was ensconced in a rather throne-like chair upholstered in cream with gilt carvings forming the supports and legs. He was dressed in expensively tailored clothing and looked ready for action, but James could hear His Grace’s labored breathing over the rustle of Cecilia’s gown.
Alston remained seated and held his arms out to his sister. “Dearest Cecilia, how glad I am that you’ve come.”
“How wonderful it is to be here,” she returned, bending to embrace him and kiss his cheek. “It feels like ages since we were last together.”
“It was so long ago you were a different person.”
Cecilia straightened, but didn’t stiffen as James thought she might. “My name may have changed, brother dear, but I am still very much myself.”
Alston’s lips curled into a smile. “Of course you are. And this must be your new husband.”
James executed a bow slightly deeper than was necessary in the drawing room of a close relation. “Your Grace, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“And you.” Alston gave a shallow bow from his chair and gestured to the lady seated on the sofa nearest to him. “My wife, the Duchess of Alston.”
James took his new sister-in-law’s offered hand and kissed the air just above it. “Your Grace.”
She inclined her head even less than Alston had, but she was smiling. “It’s so wonderful to meet the gentleman who finally enticed our Cecilia into wedded bliss.”
Is that what his wife had told her family? Well, James wouldn’t contradict her—not after she’d fulfilled her side of their bargain with such speed. “It took seventeen years, but now we have the rest of our lives together.”
The duchess sniffled and blinked as if she were holding back tears, yet she was smiling brightly. “I’m so glad for the both of you.”
Cecilia was invited to sit beside her sister-in-law, while His Grace beckoned James to pull a chair up beside the ducal “throne.” He did so, bracing for the grilling he expected to receive.
Alston leaned over the arm of his chair and lowered his voice. “Did you marry my sister for her money, Mr. Fitzsimmons?”
How was James to answer that truthfully without betraying Cecilia? “Her solicitor drew up a marriage settlement that kept her money under her own control, and my farm is very profitable. If my wife ever invests money in the farm—or anything else—it will be her own decision.”
Alston sat back with a satisfied smile. “I assumed she would make such an arrangement, but as her older brother it is still my duty to protect her whenever possible. Since that business is settled, we may now speak of much more agreeable matters. Are you interested in music at all?”
Dinner that evening was a quiet family affair, held in the morning room rather than the formal dining room. Alston had required help to rise from his chair in the drawing room, and was slowly escorted by his wife and a burly footman to his place at the table. Cecilia and James had trailed behind, seating themselves across from her brother and sister-in-law in a cozy little square.
But midway through the first course His Grace began coughing, and by the time the second course was being served his labored breathing had escalated into persistent wheezing.
“Darling,” the duchess said sweetly, laying a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Perhaps you’d better retire for the evening.”
Alston glared at his plate and forced a slow breath in through his nose. But his expression softened when he looked at Her Grace and coughed in lieu of an exhalation. “Perhaps you are right, my dear. Would you...”
James sat in awkward helplessness as two footmen came to assist Alston from his chair and out of the room, wheezing and coughing all the way, while Lady Alston conferred with a maid.
“Should we do something?” he asked Cecilia in a half-whisper.
She shook her head. “Not yet. The footmen will take Alston to his bedchamber, and Lady Alston will get him settled.”
His wife not his valet? Interesting.
“My husband will want me to apologize on his behalf,” Lady Alston said, turning to James and Cecilia. “He had so hoped to make it all the way through dinner with the two of you.”
“He cannot control his illness,” Cecilia replied with a wave of her hand. “If he could, he would have forced its submission to him long ago.”
“That’s true enough,” Lady Alston smiled. “Please enjoy the rest of the meal. When Alston is recovered enough for company, he will no doubt send for you.”
She disappeared through the same door her husband had been carried through, and James looked at his wife. “So we’re just supposed to sit here and eat as if nothing happened?”
“Eat, yes. Pretend as if nothing happened, no. Of course you can’t go on as if you didn’t just see your new brother-in-law fighting for every breath he took.”
And if it was difficult for James, how hard must it be for Alston’s own sister? He reached over and clasped Cecilia’s hand, running his thumb over the back. “Nor can you.”
“I will manage.”
“But you don’t have to manage alone. Not anymore.”
She didn’t respond with words, but her fingers curled around his hand and gripped it tightly. They sat in silence for several long moments that should have been awkward—but oddly weren’t—as her throat worked and her eyelids blinked.
Then cleared her throat and she kissed his hand. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t believe I’m hungry after all. Would you mind terribly if we retired to our chamber?”
She’d said we not I, and for the first time since leaving his farm, James felt useful again. Needed. “Of course. Perhaps a little reading by the fire will settle us both.”
An hour later, they were fetched by a footman to the ducal bedchamber with little fanfare and no context. Were they to say their last goodbyes to His Grace? Cecilia seemed heartened by the summons, though, and when they entered the large room James understood why.
Alston was sitting up in bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows and still laboring for breath, but with a little more ease than at dinner. He was clad only in his shirt and trousers, his discarded clothing being scooped up by a man who was probably the duke’s valet. Her Grace sat beside him on the counterpane, leaning against an identical set of pillows as she read aloud from a book that sounded like a farming treatise.
“Ah, there you are,” the duchess smiled as Cecilia led James deeper into the room.
Cecilia smiled at her sister-in-law, but directed her question to her brother. “How are you feeling, Alston?”
“Ready for another cup of coffee,” came the reply. His voice was weak and wheezy, but steady, and he held out his arms for the embrace Cecilia offered.
Her Grace started to slide off the big bed, but Cecilia stopped her. “I’ll get it. This is the tray over here?”
To James’s surprise, his wife crossed to the silver tray and poured out two cups of coffee, adding cream and sugar to one before serving the duke and duchess with her own hands. “James, would you like a cup? It’s strong, because that seems to help calm Alston’s breathing. But I can ring for tea if you’d rather have that.”
“Coffee will be fine, thank you,” he murmured.
Alston gestured to a chair next to his side of the bed. “Come and sit here, Fitzsimmons. I’ve a thing or two I’d like your opinion on. My home farm has been struggling to produce these past few years, and Cecilia says you’re an expert on such matters.”
Her Grace shot a warning look at Alston. “You know talking only exacerbates your condition.”
“Then I shall do most of the talking,” James supplied with a smile, taking the indicated seat. “Cecilia tells me I can discuss farming until long after everyone has stopped paying attention.”
Cecilia appeared beside James, handing him a cup with her brows raised slightly. Was she remembering the last time she’d poked fun at his agricultural ramblings? It had been just days before he’d asked for her hand.
“It’s true,” she replied, running a hand over James’s back after he’d taken his cup from her. “I have never met a man so passionate about any one thing.”
James forced himself not to react. That had been the other half of their private joke—that Cecilia was the only thing he was more passionate about than his livelihood. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and he dared a quick look up at her. A small smile played on her pink lips and her blue eyes crinkled slightly at the edges.
Was she remembering the demonstration of James’s passion that had followed?
“Cecilia, my dear, perhaps you could convince my lady wife to take some air,” Alston said, shattering the moment. “It isn’t good for her to always be cooped up here with me.”
Cecilia gave her husband’s shoulder a squeeze, trailing her fingers down his arm as she moved toward the duchess. “Of course. How does a walk in the garden sound?”
Her Grace took a long look at the duke, pressing her lips together before answering. “A short one will do us both some good, I imagine,” she agreed, pushing herself off the bed. “The cold air will clear our heads.”
The ladies departed, and Alston met James’s gaze. “My duchess works too hard tending me, but she won’t leave me to the care of our servants.” His words were slow and somewhat hoarse, as if he’d been shouting all evening. “I’m glad you and Cecilia are here now, though I’d have preferred to be in better health for our first meeting.”
James stared, taken aback by the pronouncement. He’d have thought an aristocratic family like the Alstons wouldn’t have dirtied their hands in a sickroom. But here was Lady Alston, having to be persuaded to leave.
“Perhaps Cecilia will remind Her Grace to look to herself a bit more.”
Alston nodded. “It’s easier for her to leave me in the company of family, too. Even new family.”
“But I’m a stranger yet.” James hoped his eyes hadn’t widened as much as he feared they had.
“Yes and no,” the duke replied. “It’s true Her Grace and I don’t know you well, but we know Cecilia and we trust her judgment. And if Cecilia thinks you worthy of her hand, we are content to believe so as well.”
He shifted on the bed as if he hadn’t just turned James’s world on its side, trying to adjust one of the pillows at his back. “Now, would you please tell me what can be done to improve my home farm?”