And now, much older, he realized that the magnitude of what he’d lost was nothing compared to her loss. The loss of childhood. Years of solitude as she’d waited to be a wife. And what of…
“Did you lose a baby?” he suddenly asked, wishing to understand the depths of hell awaiting him.
Ann rose to seated, her wet face stricken. He’d been unclear, blast.
“After our marriage. Crispin’s…”
“No,” she said, nodding. “Not that I know. There was no quickening.”
Small fucking mercies. At least she’d been spared that. They sat on the bed so near each other, both nude. Edmund regarded her sad face — his own work — and wanted nothing more than to soothe her as he did Eddie.
“I have to know,” he said, his voice trailing off.
“Yes?”
“Did he force you? Did Crispin force you…when he…”
Ann placed her hand over his. It was warm, soft, and much smaller. The gesture felt enormous to a man suddenly adrift.
“Crispin forced nothing,” she said in a low voice. “I willingly welcomed his attentions.”
“He shouldn’t have done that,” bit out Edmund, sick at the thought of his brother preying on a mere girl.
“He shouldn’t have,” she said, “but I viewed it as a grand romance.”
Edmund studied their overlapping hands. Neither of them wore their wedding rings. “And now.”
“Now, I’m sad,” she said. “For all of us.”
Edmund nodded, understanding her perfectly. Crispin lay in the family crypt, and the Marquess and Marchioness of Montfort hadn’t been in the same room since their wedding over a decade ago. What once felt like a farce was, in fact, a tragedy.
“But I can’t continue allowing sadness to dominate my life. If I can’t be happily married, I at least want the comfort of children. A baby in my arms.”
She’d never had that experience. Had never experienced the physical and emotional weight of cradling her child. He’d stepped in to spare what remained of her reputation while denying her something far more precious. How silly he’d been at 31!
“I’ll give it to you.”
Ann’s eyes traced the blankets, as if searching for his meaning.
Edmund had said those words impulsively, but even he didn’t know what he meant. He considered his options. Most obviously, he could impregnate his wife. But it appeared he’dtrained his cock to never react to that scruffy little doll he’d married, and her transformation into a desirable woman was proving insufficient to overcome that image he’d carried in his head.
“I’ll ensure that you get what you want,” he said, clarifying.
“You’llgive me a baby?”
“Afraid that’s not in the cards,” he said, gesturing to his wilted cock. His guilt and anger seemed to make the idea of getting hard ever again impossible.
He could hire someone — a stud, even — to impregnate Ann. Failing that, he could ask a friend to step in and sire a child. But all of that took time, and he was suddenly very guilty about the time he’d already taken from Ann. Guilty for the children she wouldn’t have because he’d ignored the problem of his marriage for so long. He needed a more immediate solution. A very private one. And sometimes, the answer to concerns about privacy was not to make one’s circle smaller, but larger — and only containing the right, very discreet people.
“Then how—”
“If you’re not opposed to being bred by someone else — as the interlude with Clarence shows — I know men who could step in as studs. So you can have a baby.”
“You’d invite a random man to get a child on me?” she asked, sounding both horrified and intrigued.
It seemed she was under the misapprehension that this was to be one man undertaking a civilized breeding. He needed to clear that up immediately so he could learn if his plan would work.
“Men. Several men. All at once,” he said.
