“This is important, Michael. Please listen.”
He took a deep breath and expelled it, then flopped back onto his pillow. “Go on.”
Cynthia worried her lip, struggling once more to find the right way to begin – to ease into a subject she knew might ruin the bliss they presently shared. Eventually, she chose to simply spit it out. “I can’t have children.”
A dreadful silence followed during which her heart leapt along with unsteady beats.
“How do you know?”
The whispered words meant he’d heard her and understood the consequence. There was no escaping the issue any longer, and in spite of the dread she’d felt over Michael knowing, it also brought a welcome relief.
“Henry and I tried to conceive.” Michael winced at that, no doubt because he did not enjoy thinking of her with another man. “But it never happened.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said, his voice defiant. Rising back up onto his forearm, he gazed down at her through the darkness. “It can take time.”
She desperately hoped he would not be able to see the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Michael, but the doctors have confirmed it. I am…” She took a deep breath, afraid her voice might crack with emotion, yet somehow she managed to force out the necessary word. “Barren.”
The mattress shifted as Michael moved into a sitting position. He still held her hand, but his lack of words were telling. Eventually he asked, “Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”
“Because I fell in love with you and feared you’d react as Henry did. With anger. We had a terrible quarrel about it the day he died. I’m sure he wouldn’t have driven so recklessly if we hadn’t. Which means his death could very well be—”
“It wasn’t your fault. The only person to blame for what happened was Henry and a damned unfortunate crack in his curricle’s wheel.” Leaning forward, he placed a soothing kiss on her brow.
“I knew I had to tell you this eventually – before we married. I just…I wanted to hold on to what we have for as long as I was able. Please, Michael. Forgive me.”
Her voice shook with the pain of knowing what would surely follow.
“There’s nothing to forgive. You’re not to blame for this and while I could be frustrated with you for not telling me sooner, I would not wish to take back the last few days we’ve spent together.” Michael cleared his throat. “Being an only child, however, having children is important to me. I won’t pretend otherwise, but you not being able to have them doesn’t change how I feel about you. It doesn’t diminish my love, but it does give me cause to stop and think. As hard as it is for me to say this, I cannot marry you tomorrow or the day after that. I need more time in which to be sure I can make such a sacrifice. I’m sorry.”
So was she, but at least he hadn’t extinguished all hope.
15
When Wilhelmina woke, the first thing she became aware of was the weight of a leg pressing into her thigh. An arm, loosely wrapped around her waist, served as an added reminder of the man who slept beside her. His breath stirred the nape of her neck with each exhalation he made, instilling in her a comfortable sense of security.
Her eyes fluttered open, bringing his hand into view. Neatly trimmed nails without a hint of dirt beneath showed no evidence of the hard work Mr. Dale enjoyed to do. A thin white line contrasted against darker skin, tempted her with a curious urge to stroke her thumb across the scar traversing his knuckles in order to feel its raised texture.
She resisted and let herself savor whatever remained of this moment. Soon they would have to rise and be on their way. The brief pretense of being married would come to an end, denying them the intimacy they’d been allowed to enjoy while tucked away in this room. It defied social norms, yet Wilhelmina had no regrets. As worried as she’d been at first about spending the night with Mr. Dale, the experience had been wonderful. And he’d not even tried to kiss her.
Instead, she’d shaved him.
The memory prompted a smile. An added tendril of warmth curled through her stomach. If this was what happily married couples had every night, she envied them with every fiber of her being, though she’d always stand by the choices she’d made. They were the right ones, even if they did deny her the peaceful calm of being held by Mr. Dale forever.
Her heart thudded slightly harder as it occurred to her she’d developed a fondness for him. One that hadn’t been there before they’d set off on this journey together. Until then, there had been respect and attraction. Now, after getting to know him better, she feared parting ways with him once they accomplished their goal would leave her feeling hollow inside. His company had become important. He’d faced down a duke for her without second thought, and managed to make her feel cherished even though he was meant to despise her.
And then there was the kiss.
Lord help her but she longed to experience that again. But if there had ever been a chance to do so, it had been last night, and neither of them had taken it. Which was probably for the best since it could only lead to heartache. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a curse. How could she have been so foolish as to let herself fall for a man who’d never want her?
Yet it occurred to her that this was precisely what had happened. It explained the pleasure she found from simply being close to him, from the joy she’d found in shaving him, and from the anticipation of spending more time in his company as they continued their onward journey. He impressed her with his principles, his innovative ideas, and his willingness to grab a shovel and help his father’s tenants dig a canal. He frustrated her like nobody else with his stubborn refusal to let their children be happy together, but he also made her laugh until she forgot all the troubles she faced.
And since he denied Cynthia and Michael his blessing because of the very principle Wilhelmina respected, she couldn’t really fault him for it. After all, his perspective was based on what he knew and as such, it made perfect sense, even if it wasn’t in Cynthia’s or Michael’s favor. Furthermore, he had tried to theorize a situation in which a union between Cynthia and Michael was possible, even though his suggestion was an impossible option.
With a sigh, she lifted his arm and pulled her legs out from underneath his. A low murmur rumbled through him. He shifted and Wilhelmina stood.
“What time is it?” he asked with a sleepy yawn.
“Five, I should think, judging from the dim light.” She glanced at him while padding across the floor to the wash basin. Last night, it had made perfect sense to sleep in her shift. Now, with a muted glow beginning to seep past the edges of the curtains, it would offer him a far more daring glimpse of her body than if she’d worn her nightgown.
