CHAPTER 9
Lucy was unable to find sleep that night.
As this was the first night in her new home, the bed was alien to her, and the walls suffocated as if they slowly inched closer and closer. She tossed and she turned, she threw back her blanket, she kicked out her legs in a vein effort to find some semblance of comfort.
Comfort, however, was not the issue at hand.
On the surface, the problem might appear an obvious one. This was not a marriage that she wanted and, if the first few hours of this marriage were an indication, it was not something that she would grow into. She and her husband had hardly spoken, and the few times that they had done, it did not go well.
He is infuriating. And the way he spoke to me earlier… as if I am somehow to blame. What does he expect? That I should rollover, submit, accept my lot and be grateful that things are not worse?
She tried to channel that anger, wanting to direct it onto the Duke’s shoulders so that he might bear the entire load of her troubles.
Annoyingly, things were not so easy as that.
He was right in what he said earlier. Dammit, how he was! While she did not think that she owed him anything, she knew just as well that there was no need for her to treat him with such hostility.
This marriage was off to a terrible start and try as she might, Lucy could not avoid the sense that it was mostly her doing.
Tomorrow… assuming he does not behave so callously… maybe we can start again. Maybe we can find a way to make this marriage not the worst of things.
Lucy came to that decision and hoped it would ease her so that she could sleep. Alas, as soon as she did so, another problem reared its ugly head…
Eyes closed, breathing still heavy, Lucy’s mind returned to what the Duke had said to her earlier. The way he had stood over her. How he had reached out and flicked back a strand of hair… and how his fingers had lightly traced her skin.
Despite herself, a warmth rippled across her body, excitement felt for reasons that she refused to admit. Lucy wished to either hate her husband or feel nothing for him. So far, neither of those appeared possible.
She had no idea what hour it was. Her room was pitch black. The house sat in a state of deathly silence so all that could be heard was her breathing. Knowing now that sleep was unlikely to arrive, Lucy did as she often would when home and struggling to sleep: she went for a walk.
Silently, she slipped from her bed. Next, she found a robe and wrapped it around her body – it would not do to walk the home in just a shift. And then, taking gentle steps, she eased herself from her bedroom and into the hallway of her new home.
Lucy had no idea where she was going but that did not matter.
I need to clear my head. What do I want? What do I expect? How can I…
She was halfway down the hallway when a noise that cut through her subconscious ramblings. In some ways, it was a relief, as her mind was a runaway horse since night fell and she was glad to have something to distract her. On the other hand…
Lucy’s stomach plunged through the floor and her face paled because she recognized that noise, just as she knew how in over her head she was.
It was the sound of a baby crying.
The babe’s wailing was soft at first, but in the silence of the night it ripped down the hallway and attacked her as if the baby was calling out to her personally. Lucy froze where she stood, terror sweeping her, because for all her worries about this marriage and what she might do, she had blissfully ignored the most pressing concern.
The baby… the child he expects me to raise… the one that I have no idea what to do with or how I can possibly be expected to help! What were you thinking, Lucy?
She crept down the hall as if pulled by the cries of the baby. It grew louder as she went and despite how dark it was, she made her way, running her hand along the walls to guide her.
Soon, she found herself outside of the nursery. The door was open, and she stayed on the opposite side of the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold because as alien as this new life already was, that one was another matter entirely.
Through the darkness, she could just make out the baby’s cot. The walls of the cot were raised, but within came the source of the crying. The longer she stood there, the longer she gaped, the louder it became, and the more severe was her panic.
Lucy had no idea how to raise a child. None.
When Marcus told her what he wanted from her, she had said as much, while also admitting that it should not be so hard to learn. What else could she say? She was trapped, marriage to Marcus was her only option, and if she had refused him, then she would be even worse off than she was now…if such a thing is even possible!
Marcus, to his credit, did not appear too concerned about her doubts. He seemed to think that she was possessed of some motherly instinct that she did not know. Or maybe he just assumed that all women had it in them to care for a baby?
Whatever the case, she had agreed to help him raise the infant. So, here she was, frozen in the doorway, listening to it cry for her, knowing not what to do or how to do it.
