Page 95 of More or Less a Countess
She didn’t recognize herself anymore. Violet Somerset had hardly ever been ill, but Lady Dare…well, Lady Dare wasn’t nearly as stalwart as Violet had been. No, Lady Dare seemed to be forever on the verge of a swoon, and she’d almost cast up her accounts all over the dinner table last night.
Quail eggs, it seemed, no longer agreed with her.
She’d swallowed the nausea back only to be overcome with an extreme bout of dizziness that had nearly sent her face first into her dinner plate, and now here she was again, sniveling and hiccupping like a hysterical child.
“Oh, my dear. Look at me.” Lady Westcott leaned forward and gently drew Violet’s hand away from her face. “Tell me what’s upsetting you.”
“Don’t you see, my lady? Nick has fulfilled the last of his promises to you. Repairs are underway at Ashdown Park, and his countess is now carrying his heir. There’s nothing to keep him in England any longer.”
“Oh, Violet, how can you say so? Why, one need only look at Nicholas to see he’s madly in love with you. Surely you must know how dear you are to him. Has he ever given you any reason to think he intends to leave?”
Violet’s breath hitched. “N-no, but he’s never given me any reason to think he intends to stay, either.”
Nick hadn’t mentioned Italy or his mistress since their disastrous wedding night, but he’d also never made Violet any promises. Even when he held her tightly in his arms throughout the night, or when she woke to find him gazing down at her while she slept—even then, when she swore she could feel his love wrapped around her—even then, he made her no promises.
And that wasn’t the worst of it.
Violet met Lady Westcott’s eyes. “He’s been…secretive lately. More than once I’ve caught him whispering with Gibbs, and when I entered his study the other day he whisked some papers off his desk so I couldn’t see them. He disappears for hours at a time, too, and I’ve no idea where he goes—somewhere in the house, I think, but I can never find out where.”
Lady Westcott’s brows drew together. “Thatisrather odd, but it may be perfectly innocent, and even if he does intend to leave, hiding your condition from him only postpones the inevitable, Violet. He’s going to discover the truth soon enough, if he hasn’t already.”
Violet knew Lady Westcott was right, and yet it seemed for all that she’d drawn Nick as The Selfish Rake, she was the one who was selfish, because she wanted to keep him with her for as long as she could. “I know. I promise I’ll tell him soon, my lady, but—”
They were interrupted by a soft knock on the door, and a moment later it opened and Nick peered around the corner. “Violet, I—oh, good afternoon, Aunt.”
“Ah, Nicholas. Good afternoon.” Lady Westcott gave Violet a meaningful look, then patted her hand one last time and rose from the bed. “Now that you’re here I’ll leave your wife to your care, as I’ve letters to write this afternoon.”
Once Lady Westcott was gone, Nick joined Violet on the bed. “You look pale, my lady. Do you feel better?” He cupped her cheek in his hand and lowered his voice. “I was lonely this morning when I woke and found you’d gone. Poor Gibbs got the brunt of my disappointment, I’m afraid.”
His sheepish grin, his hand on her face, his soft voice…it was difficult to look into his warm gray eyes and believe he didn’t care for her. Perhaps he didn’t intend to leave at all, and she was worrying herself over nothing.
“I’m sorry I left you alone. I woke very early feeling ill, and I didn’t wish to wake you.”
“It’s all right, sweet. You’ve, ah…you’ve been feeling unwell for several weeks now. Perhaps we should call in a doctor.”
His eyes met hers, and Violet knew at once Lady Westcott was right—Nick already suspected she was with child. He was only waiting for her to tell him, and she was being terribly unfair, keeping it from him. He was her child’s father, for pity’s sake, and no matter how afraid she was, he deserved to know the truth.
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, reached for his hand, and laced her fingers with his. “Yes, perhaps we should, but I’m not ill, Nick. I’m…we’re going to have a child.”
She’d imagined he’d react with pleasure—no matter what his intentions regarding their marriage, a child was welcome news—but she hadn’t expected his face to transform as if a beam of sunlight had fallen across it, and she couldn’t have foreseen the way his beautiful gray eyes softened and darkened with emotion.
The joy on his face, the wonder there…
Violet gazed at him, wild hope leaping into her throat. “Nick? Are you—?”
Before she could say another word, he seized her hand, brought it to his lips, and smothered it with kisses. “I thought perhaps…but I didn’t dare hope. Such a gift, Violet. I couldn’t be happier.”
He tried to say more, to swallow the emotion that made the words tangle in his throat, but his voice broke, and after a moment he simply lay down beside her, drew her into his arms, and urged her to rest her head on his chest.
Violet melted against him as his fingers sifted through her hair, and the breath she’d been holding for weeks eased free of her lungs at last. He cradled her against his chest for a long time, and Violet’s eyes had just begun to drift closed when she felt the rumble of his voice against her cheek. “I’ll leave you here to rest for a while, sweet. I’ve some business with Gibbs this afternoon, but I’ll come see you when I’ve finished.”
Violet tensed. “What business?”
“Oh, it’s just…I don’t like to bore you with it.”
Sudden nausea crawled up Violet’s throat, but this time it had nothing to do with the child. What was this mysterious business with Gibbs that had taken so much of her husband’s time these past few weeks, and why was Nick so determined to hide it from her?
“Nothing you do could ever bore me.” Violet made an effort to keep her voice light. “It’s just not like you to be so secretive. What does this business entail?”
