thirty
After a night of exhausted sleep, Isabella lay still in the bed as Dr. Norris worked.
The laudanum and the tampons had soothed the pain, but her whole body was sore and aching. Just bending her knees required too much energy. She winced as a sting hurt her.
Dr. Norris paused. “Apologies, Your Grace, but it needs to be done.”
She put a hand on her empty belly. She’d been with child for a short time, but she missed it; she no longer carried a life.
“I’ve finished.” Dr. Norris wiped her hands on a cloth. “You will experience more bleeding for a few days, but then it should stop. If the bleeding persists, send for me immediately.”
She glanced at the heap of cloths stained with her blood. How could she be alive after bleeding so much? “How did the duke react when you told him about the baby?”
“Stunned.” The doctor collected her tools and bottles. “Your Grace, it’s not my place, but I guess the duke isn’t the father.”
She shook her head.
“And he wasn’t aware of your condition.”
Another shake of her head.
“The duke showed remarkable control of his emotions although I noticed the change in his expression.”
“Do you think he’ll send me away?”
“I don’t know, madam.” The doctor touched Isabella’s forehead. “Many women, who suffered from what you experienced, get affected by melancholia. Should that happen, send for me.”
If Anthony allowed her to stay.
After Dr. Norris left, Lawson fussed around the bed, adding pillows, cleaning, and changing the stained blankets. When she finished, she stood for a few moments watching her with teary eyes.
“The duke asked me to tell him when you were ready to see him.”
“I owe him an explanation.” Isabella propped herself up on her elbows.
“We can delay the meeting, though. I could tell him you need rest, which is true.”
“No. I want to talk to him now.”
“Very well.”
Lawson helped her sit before leaving the room. There was a quick exchange outside of the door Isabella didn’t grasp. She stiffened when Anthony entered, filling the bedroom with his intense presence.
He must have spent a horrible night too, judging by his dark-circled eyes. Even his jacket didn’t stretch taut across his shoulders as usual, and the scar seemed more evident.
Emotion tightened her chest. He took a tentative step closer as if he didn’t want to make brusque movements that might frighten her. Well, too late. She was scared to death.
“I hope you feel better,” he said, sitting on a chair next to the bed.
“Much better. Just exhausted.” She tugged at the lapels of her dressing gown for no reason.
Where should she start? An apology, an explanation, or a practical agreement on their future? Did he want an annulment?
He leant back, seemingly at ease, but the tension in his neck and hands betrayed his discomfort. He didn’t push her to talk, though.
“I meant to tell you,” she said, although the words sounded lame.
“Before or after the wedding?”
