Cheverley nodded.
She touched her brow where Ash’s lips had rested at the end of their final night. …you made a broken man feel whole.
“What if he takes my child?”
“Would a man who set up a trust so a bastard could remain with her mother part his own child from hers?”
“I don’t know.” Alicia frowned “You didn’t see his eyes.”
Cheverly’s gaze softened. “You are going to have to decide. But remember, you are not without a friend in me.”
Alicia heart warmed. “Thank you, Lord Cheverley.”
Chapter Sixteen
Now that Simon had returned, Alicia relinquished her place. Once she’d made the decision, all that had seemed impossible became easy, and in less than a fortnight, her transition was complete.
With Lord Cheverley’s help, she’d arranged to rent rooms—the same rooms on the third floor of the bakery near Bath, where she had spent a short, happy time with Octavius. Now that she was settled, Cheverley was to set up a meeting with the duke.
When she confronted him, it would not be in weakness and supplication.
But when she arrived at her new lodgings yesterday eve, a package awaited. The Banyan.
She clutched the note in her hands.
This is a prized possession, given to me by Chev. But, it is yours. Keep it. Perhaps you can show it to your child—a memento of his father.
I’d rather you return to me.
She placed her hand over her softly swelling belly and fixed her eyes on the ruined castle she’d once loved. Someone was setting it to rights.
“I don’t know why you wished to come back,” the baker’s wife huffed. “This place isn’t a haven for the content.” Mrs. Wilton joined her at the window. “Though now that there is work being done on the castle, we all hope...” She sighed. “The young one was a good boy, you know. Quiet-like. Good to us too, until she came. We saw him less and less, and then, the fire.” She shook her head. “The old duke got what he deserved, some say. He did it, you know, acquitted or not.”
Prickles went up Alicia’s back. “You—you never spoke of the family.”
Mrs. Wilton looked sheepish. “Superstition. No one would speak of the family, less they too be cursed.”
Alicia swallowed hard. “What was the name of the castle?”
“Why Wisterley castle, of course. The seat of the dukes of Ashbey.”
Could it be? Alicia Studied the castle and the bare drive leading up to it. “But I don’t see the blackthorn that grows along the drive.”
The baker’s wife looked confused. “There is another drive that ends at the oldest part of the keep—that’s where the blackthorn grows.”
“Is there a carriage I could hire?”
Mrs. Wilton frowned. “Doubtful on a Sunday morn.”
Alicia couldn’t breathe. “I—I need to walk.”
“Are you sure?” the baker’s wife asked. “You look a bit peaked, and—”
But Alicia was already down the stairs and then into the street. A light rain misted the air. She had been to hell and back. A little rain was no cause for hesitation.
Actually, she preferred the rain.
Who needed things to be lovely all the time? Without the rain, the flowers wouldn’t grow. And without the dark of night, sleep could not renew. And without one devil duke, her heart would still be broken, and her belly barren.
