Chapter Twenty-Five
Jilly sat besideLewis on a bench in the Trentons’ garden. It was the nearest semblance of privacy they could find. Neither the Kinsey family cottage nor the Trenton manor could provide a space for them to speak freely. And Lewis was far too worn out to walk and talk along a country path.
Jillian, on the other hand, was positively glowing.
“I believed you to be ill,” Lewis said a little reproachfully, though the sight of Jillian once more her radiant self made him happier than he could possibly have imagined.
“Ihavebeen,” she countered. “Maybe not bound to my bed all day, but certainly not well enough to seek the company of Mr. Trenton.” She scrunched up her face at the mention of his name.
Lewis understood all too well. Perhaps she had exaggerated her symptoms somewhat to escape the man’s unpleasant interference. Well, Lewis would cure that ailment easily enough.
“Are you well enough to come home with me?” He tucked her hand into his to show he meant it.
Jillian turned her head from him, the full measure of her delight at his arrival slipping from her face. “If I have been too ill to endure Mr. Trenton, I am certainly in no condition to return to London and be under your parents’ roof once more.”
“Ah,” said Lewis, carrying the secret knowledge of his plan and eager now to share it with Jilly, “but we would not bereturning to London. I have excused myself for the last few weeks of session.”
Jillian shook her head. “Even if we were alone at Oakwoods, or in Penelope’s company, I would still prefer to remain with my mother. She knows what I need.”
Lewis tried to hide his disappointment. “And what do you need? You seem to be in excellent health.”
“It comes and goes.”
“Like a fever? Is it wise, then, to be walking about and tiring yourself?”
“No, not like a fever. Fits of queasiness.”
Lewis was not ready to give up yet. If Jillian was only experiencing a tummy ache, it should be easy enough to treat. “What brings it on? Do you know the cause?”
Jilly turned to face him once again, the rosy glow returning to her cheeks. “Youare the cause.”
The accusation startled Lewis. “Imake you sick?”
Why was she smiling? These were not humorous words.
“You make us a family.” Jillian took the hand that held hers and drew it to her belly. “I am only unwell in the mornings…”
Lewis remained confused. He knew Latin and Greek and could argue his case in court, but he had no knowledge at all about women’s bellies and why, if such a part of his wife was troubled, he should be to blame for it, especially when he had been all the way in London.
“I don’t understand,” he confessed after some thought and no success.
“Lewis, you ninny, you’re going to be a father!” Jillian laughed.
Realization dawned in his bone-weary mind. “A baby?” he asked, his voice cracking.
Jillian nodded. “I was going to write to you today. I first wanted to be sure. But here you are. Perhaps I should thank Mr.Trenton for his letter. It is so much better to tell you in person, to see your face, to… Lewis, are those tears?”
He brushed the moisture briskly from his eyes. Then he folded his wife into his arms, holding her as if she had been rescued from the edge of a cliff, where one misplaced step would have cost them everything.
“I’m going to keep you safe,” Lewis promised, his voice thick and rough. “You and this baby and any other children you may bless us with. You will see.”
Jillian stiffened in his embrace. “Your parents will work against your good intentions.”
Lewis leaned back so that she could see his face and know that he meant every word. “We will not be returning to London. Not until next season. And then we will be sharing accommodation with our friend the viscount. And Ellena, of course, if she chooses to join him. He seldom stays for the whole season, using his proxy so that he may attend to matters back home in Munro instead. But he has granted us the use of his townhome regardless. You will see my parents only if and when it pleases you.”
“What about Oakwoods?” countered Jilly, though Lewis could see a flicker of hope in her eyes. “Even the servants are not truly mine that I may build a relationship with them. All of them, including Wallace, were chosenforme. And the weekly Sunday dinner is enough for your mother and father to chisel away at our happiness and teach our innocent babes their way of thinking. The very thought of such a fate befalling our children, especially if there is a son who will be your heir, crushes the breath within my breast.”
“As it does mine, beloved,” answered Lewis. “Oakwood must receive us again, but only to collect our belongings. We will return to the estate one day when we are both ready. If thatmeans waiting until I am the baron and can dictate the manner in which we live, so be it.”
