How had he managed to get her with child in such a short time when her husband hadn’t been able to accomplish the same task in ten years?
She placed a hand on her abdomen. For so long she had wanted to conceive and cried when her courses arrived. She had always been regular and knew when to expect them, but stopped paying attention when she became a widow as it no longer mattered. But still, should she have noticed they hadn’t occurred? How had she not noticed?
She was happy to be with child, and if circumstances were different, she would be elated. Instead, she dreaded what was to come.
A part of her wished to remain in the cottage in Seaford for the rest of her life and never let anyone know the truth and keep the child a secret. She’d need to do so anyway as bastards were not well received.
But Angelo had a right to know.
Or did he?
What did women usually do in these circumstances?
Her stomach rolled. This was not supposed to happen. She had told him she was barren. What was he going to do when he learned?
He might very well hate her, for which she couldn’t blame him. She just hoped that he allowed her to hide away as she planned.
No doubt his betrothal had already been announced and he had received the well-wishes from all of Society.
“Oh, God!” She had done what her husband had done to her. His first bastard was born five months after they had wed. He’d left a pregnant mistress behind in Ireland, sailed to England, attended the Season, found another mistress, courted Octavia and married her and returned to his still pregnant Irish mistress.
Maybe she wouldn’t tell Angelo.
What harm would there be in him not knowing?
It wasn’t as if fathers recognized their bastards. Her dead husband only liked to mention them because she had failed to provide an heir, but he never mentioned them in Society, and she was fairly certain he offered no form of support.
She could send for her belongings and never return to London. Eventually her family would learn the truth, but as Leopold was a duke, he could make things right for her child. If it was a girl, maybe he would even provide a dowry, or at least an allowance so that she could support herself if Octavia had no funds to leave her. If it was a son, provide an education. Though no child should suffer simply because they had been born on the wrong side of the blanket, girls always suffered more. But, regardless of gender, Octavia would protect her child with every part of her being.
That was the easy part. What to do now was not so easy.
With those thoughts, Octavia stood. There was only one person who she trusted to seek advice and hoped that Elizabeth was at Matron Manor for Octavia didn’t want to see or speak with anyone else.
Angelo stepped into the parlor of his parents’ home in Mayfair, prepared to meet opposition to his decision. There was nothing that his mother or father could say that would change his mind. He couldn’t understand why they had changed. His entire life was in preparation for when he became the next marquess and from the time he finished school, his next task had been to wed and father an heir and a spare. It was all he had heard for nearly the last ten years. Now that he had settled on someone, they wanted him to reconsider.
However, it was not just his father and mother in the parlor, but his sister. This was none of Gaia’s concern. She was wed and would likely be expecting her first child, an heir for Lydell, within the year. She was also blissfully happy, so this should be none of her concern, especially since she hadn’t been under any obligation to ever fulfill a duty.
His father rose and walked to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy.
The gentleman wasn’t as robust as he once had been and moved slower, but Angelo did not assist. The man had his pride and Angelo waited for the brandy to be given to him. His father then returned to his favored chair. “Sit!” he ordered.
Angelo glanced at his mother and sister, seated side by side on the settee, and did as instructed.
“Your mother and I discussed your situation long into the night,” he said.
“You should have rested and not concerned yourself with me.”
“I cannot rest when I know you are making a mistake that you will need to live with for the rest of your life.”
“You do not know that it is a mistake,” Angelo argued.
“You do not love her,” his mother said.
“Many marriages begin without love, and they do well.” Angelo took a sip of his brandy, pleased that he was able to argue respectfully, for his position would not change and his parents would come to understand and accept his decision.
“Most marriages do not begin with a man in love with one woman when he marries another.”
“If I would have never told you of the widow, would we be having the conversation?”
