Dukes By the Dozen

Julia’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He wasn’t suggesting he’d…that, with the mother…and the daughter?

“I know she’s going to go soon, but it breaks my heart to see it.” He sighed heavily. “I’m only glad Maribel has foaled twice, so she might forever live on in them.”

Julia’s shoulders dropped from where they’d climbed to her earlobes. What a blithering idiot she’d been. He was discussing his horse. Again. And she’d thought he was talking about another woman. Again.

A sick sensation swirled in her stomach with a crushing realization. The issue was not with William at all. It was with her.

And the fear that what had happened between her mother and father could happen to her. The ache in her chest grew into something terrible. It robbed her of her breath and left her gasping for air as though she were dying.

She couldn’t stand the idea of trusting William, of letting herself love her husband and then finding him the way she’d found her father. Her heart would not be able to endure such hurt. She had never realized the organ was so very fragile, yet now it hovered on the edge of shattering.

A fire burned in her chest. When he returned to their chamber, she would tell him the truth of it: she still wished to go to the country after she’d delivered him an heir.

WILLIAM TOOK the steps two at a time in his eagerness to see Julia. He’d meant to participate in the games with the rest of the house party, but when he heard she had retired to their room already, he immediately understood. She was waiting for him. To be alone with him.

He reached the landing and made his way down the hall, hoping she would still be wearing her silk frock so that he could peel it off of her. But when he opened the door, he was not met with a willing wife, but one who was red-faced from crying and wrapped in a bulky robe.

The servants had obviously been dismissed, as was evidenced by the disarray in the room. Stockings were crumpled in one corner, a pair of dainty red shoes lay on opposite sides of a chair, and various jars were left open.

“Julia, are you unwell?” He closed the door and rushed to where she sat on the edge of the bed. “Shall I summon a physician?”

She shook her head and glanced up at him. Her long lashes were spiked with moisture. “I can’t do this, William. Forgive me, but I-I do not think I am meant to be a wife.”

His mind reeled at her words. Were they back to this?

“I beg your pardon?” He sank to the bed beside her. “Has something happened?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m a coward.” She buried her face in her hands, and her throat flexed as she tried with an obvious effort to hold back her tears. “I married you to escape my father’s household, and now I’m realizing what I tried to leave has followed me.”

How very flattering.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” William said in an even tone. It cost him dearly to keep the desperation from his voice, to keep from demanding answers. He was finally on the cusp of getting the family he wanted, but she did not want him. The same as all the families before who took him in after his parents’ deaths.

The story spilled from her, of her father and his lover in the theater box. A tawdry tale to be sure.

He listened attentively. “And you think I will do this to you?”

“I worry it might someday happen.” Julia gave a miserable sniff. “I hadn’t realized how much I feared it, until I was reassured that you did not have a lover at your country estate. But then seeing Lady Venerton flirting with you and touching you—”

“I did not encourage her.” The anger had flared up within William. The odious woman had been impossible. Toward the end of dinner, he’d had to be downright rude to keep her from putting her hands upon him.

“You did not,” Julia agreed. “But someday you might. Or someday it might be a different woman whose attentions you do want.” She sniffled miserably. “Then I overheard you talking downstairs about Maribel, and again, I thought you meant another woman. Do you not see, William?”

He stared at her in question. For he did not see. Not a bloody whit.

“I will forever think you are with another woman,” she exclaimed. “It will drive me mad. It will drive you mad.” She pressed her lips together as her eyes welled with a fresh bout of tears.

He met her gaze and put his hand gently under her chin to keep her from looking away. “I am not your father.”

Her brow crumpled, and she nodded.

“Get to know me, Julia, and you will discover I am not that sort of man.” He didn’t bother to hide his hurt. “Get to know me and let me prove to you that you married me for more than an escape from your childhood home.”

“Forgive me, William.” She brushed at her wet cheeks. “Please, I need you to agree to allow me to move to the country once I’ve delivered an heir.”

“If you still believe me to be a man who will not be loyal, and who will not love you faithfully by the time you have delivered our son, then yes, I will allow it.” He chose his words carefully, intentionally.