Page 43 of Eloping With The Princess
“I will not continue the line of this title with another bastard child,” Jason said.
“It would not be a bastard. You and Isabel are married. Any of your children would be legitimate.”
“Any child of mine will be tarnished by my own bastard blood.”
“At some point you will need to decide that this one thing doesn’t have to define you.” She paused a moment before continuing. “I know it is not common for a mother to discuss this, but you do realize there are ways to be intimate without producing a child.”
“I do not wish to discuss this with you.” He did little to hide his exasperation in hopes she would leave him to his own thoughts.
“Jason,” she said.
He could readily tell that she was not going to abandon this discussion. He knew how to silence her forever on this subject, but he’d never shared this with anyone. He would not continue to fight with his mother about consummating his marriage. “Of course, I know that,” he said. “I also know that those methods are not foolproof.” He looked down at her feet. “If you must know, I did everything I could to prevent a child with my mistress, but she became pregnant.”
His mother sucked in a breath.
“She subsequently lost the babe before it was born.” He rubbed a hand down his face and exhaled slowly. “I am well familiar with the so-called ways to prevent a child.”
“I never knew,” she said quietly.
“No one save me and my former mistress know. It has been years, and it is not something I discuss.”
She placed her hands on his face, cradling him. “You were not created within the bounds of marriage, but your father and I loved each other very much and you are loved, my son. Now you have a beautiful wife. You could finally have the life I’ve always wanted for you.”
He didn’t expect her to understand. He loved her perhaps even more because she didn’t, because she never questioned his worth, but that didn’t mean she was right. He kissed her forehead.
“You should get some sleep, Mother.”
She nodded and left the room. At least he wasn’t angry any longer. Of course, his situation with Isabel still hadn’t changed, but his mother was right about one thing. He couldn’t ignore his wife forever, refuse her any intimacy. He’d likely go mad in the process. He was a man of great control, certainly he could use that skill in bed with his wife. There was passion between him and Isabel, that he could not deny. There could also be pleasure.
…
The next afternoon, Isabel was called down to the lavender parlor. She expected to find her mother-in-law waiting there for her. Instead, she found three ladies whom she did not know, two though, she recognized from that day at the dressmaker’s shop. Well, she supposed she had met them that day, but she was unaccustomed to social calls.
“Hello,” she said, knowing that was probably not the appropriate greeting. During her years in school, she had received no social visitors. In fact, as far as she remembered, none of the girls had.
One of the ladies stepped forward with a smile. She was not a woman of traditional beauty, but her kind and genuine smile made up for her overly large nose and mousy-brown eyes. “Lady Ellis, so lovely to see you again. I’m certain you met so many new people the other evening, I shall reintroduce us. I am Lady Eleanor Prentiss and this is Lady Whitney Maples and Lady Candace Henning.”
For an awkward moment they all stood before Isabel remembered to gesture them into seats. The three women were all around her own age or a little older. Like Jason’s mother and sister-in-law, they were dressed in the height of fashion.
Thank goodness the clothes from the modiste had arrived the day before, and that her lady’s maid had insisted Isabel start dressing in them immediately. She could only imagine their disdain if she had been dressed in the clothes she’d worn yesterday morning.
Unsure what to say next, the silence stretched between them. Lady Candace and Lady Whitney looked at her with a sort of wide-eyed expectation. After a moment, they exchanged an amused glance. She should ring for tea, she knew that much, but she wasn’t certain how to go about it without leaving the room and her guests. Clearly, she was doing this all wrong.
“Tell me, Lady Ellis,” Eleanor said, “can your servants hear the bell”—she motioned with her head to the small gold bell sitting on the table to Isabel’s right—“all the way up here at the front of the house?”
Isabel could have hugged the woman. Somehow she’d known or seen Isabel’s desperation. “I believe they can,” Isabel said, then picked up the bell and rang it. Promptly a scullery maid bobbed into the room.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Tea and cakes, please,” Isabel said.
The maid bobbed again and scurried out of the room. They must have already had the tray readied, because in a matter of moments she was back, carrying in the tray and placing it on the occasional table that sat in the midst of the chairs. Once the maid left, Isabel reached for the pot to pour the tea. She must have done something uncouth, because Candace smirked. Isabel blew out a calming breath. This could not go any worse than it already was. There was no point in pretending otherwise.
“I fear my manners are not what they should be,” she said, holding out the cup and saucer to Eleanor. “This is my first social call.”
Lady Whitney gave a smile that seemed a little too sweet. “Your first social call of the morning?”
“Ever, I’m afraid.” She gave an exaggerated grimace.
