His grip tightens on my waist, encouraging me to continue.
“I went… I had to… refresh myself. Only…after a time, I was no longer alone, but the ladies did not see me. But I… I heard them.” Recalling the incident stings anew, but being seated upon his lap makes the humiliation stronger.
“Pray continue, my dove.”
“I… I heard them speaking… of me. Of…us.” My gaze leaps to his face, against my wishes.
He does not appear shocked, or even mildly surprised. He merely gazes back steadily, patiently waiting for what I might reveal.
I drop my gaze once more and stare at my neatly folded hands. “They were saying… that people are… whispering about us.” Despite being held on his lap, and the warmth of mybackside, or perhaps because of those things, I feel my throat constrict.
“What do they say, Freya? Do not be afraid—as long as you keep your speech sweet and respectful, you may tell me anything.”
His warm assurance bids me to look at him once more. He appears utterly sincere.
“They know,” I breathe the words in a horrified whisper. “They know… we have not consummated our union. That you… you do not want me.” My throat burns with unshed tears. I close my eyes so that I do not have to see how he will respond.
“And so?”
There is a change in his voice, but I do not trust myself to meet his gaze for fear of what I shall read there.
“And… and so, my lord… when my child comes… they shall know. And… I realize this must have been your intention all along.” I peek at his face and the stony wall his features form where softness and devotion resided only moments ago causes me to burst into tears.
Duke Gregor
I feel as though I have been hit over the head with a mallet. I sit stock-still, my arms around my wife whose shoulders shake with distress, while I sit frozen and unable to assist. As her words play over and over in my mind, I struggle to make sense of what she implies.
The Ton knows? They know enough that she overheard them gossiping?That is enough to induce fury, for whatever happens or does not between us is our business alone. But what does she imply? That I knowingly and deliberately shame her?
Why does she not see? I have tried to show her my tireless devotion.
But have I? Have I ever spoken to her of my feelings?
No. I have played games in an attempt to compel her to confess feelings that, for all I know, she does not possess. Sudden realization makes me grit my teeth, but not for anything she has done, not even what others whisper about us. After all, most of theTonis quite bored indeed.
My irritation is due to my own actions—and because seems Prince James is correct, and I hate that, even if he never comes to know it.
I turn my focus to the weeping woman in my arms. She is shedding many tears indeed, and I cannot help but worry. It is not good in any state, but particularly not in this condition, for her to be so distraught.
“Freya, look at me, sweeting.”
It takes several moments and many sniffles, but finally my words break through the shroud of her sorrow.
I cringe to see the anguish on her face. AnguishIcaused, even though I never thought to do what she accuses me of. It is no matter—I can see how she would come to such a horrid conclusion, and nothing I have said would give her cause to question the folly of her mind.
Her green eyes are lighter in color than I have ever seen them, as though grief has robbed them of their vibrant hue. That too I am responsible for, and I am furious at myself for being so thoughtless.
I am careful to keep my voice gentle, however, as I speak to her. “My love… forgive me.”
Her eyes widen and her lips part, though she does not say anything.
“Forgive me for causing you distress, for that was never my intention.”
“It… it was not?”
I shake my head and catch her chin to keep her from averting her gaze. I need her attention as I say this. “No, my love. I would not do that to you. I would not do that to a child. What you said earlier about my parentage…’tis true, of course.”
She tries to pull out of my grasp, embarrassment coloring her cheeks, but I hold her firmly.
