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Chapter 29

Two weeks later.

The Earl of Bradshaw has died from sepsis originating in the wound to his posterior, sustained during an illegal duel. Though the identities of the duelists have not been officially confirmed, speculation suggests it was either the husband of one of his many mistresses, the brother of his former wife—the one whose status was stripped by his bigamy—or even his first wife herself.

The attending physician initially deemed the injury non-fatal but failed to account for the earl’s obstinate refusal to follow medical advice—or his appalling hygiene.

Jacob sat at the table of the breakfast room, the newspaper spread before him, a cup of cooling coffee at his elbow. He read the article for the third time, scarcely able to believe his eyes.

I’ll make it quick and painless, he’d said to Bradshaw.

Hmm… I guess I lied.

The rustle of skirts announced Honoria’s arrival. Jacob hastily pushed the paper aside and stood as she entered. She looked radiant, as always, though a shade paler than usual this morning. She hadn’t been feeling well lately, and it worried him greatly.

“Good morning,” he said, pulling out her chair. “Should I send for the doctor after all? Your nausea seems awfully persistent.”

Honoria offered him a warm smile as she eased into the seat. “I’m well, I promise. But yes, I think I should see a doctor.”

Jacob returned to his chair and leaned in, studying her face. “You do? Should you be out of bed? I can—”

“I am fine, I promise.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s just I’ve been—” she began, but her words faltered as her gaze landed on the folded newspaper. “What is that?”

Jacob glanced down and grimaced. “Oh. Right.” He slid the paper toward her reluctantly.

Honoria’s eyes widened. She pulled it closer, scanning the bold headline with growing disbelief.

“Bradshaw died?” The color drained from her face, and she slumped back in her chair.

“Yes,” Jacob confirmed, reaching across to take her hand. “But I didn’t kill him. His stubbornness and hygiene did—the article says so.”

She read the piece in silence, her lips moving with each line. After a moment, she set it aside with a soft sigh.

“That’s not the end I wanted for him,” she said. “Although… I suppose there could be no better outcome.”

Jacob exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing. He had feared her reaction—feared she might blame him, regardless of the facts.

“Aren’t you glad you let me duel him now?” he teased gently.

Her eyes flashed with irritation. “No. I stand by everything I said. It could just as easily have been you dead instead of him.”

“No, it couldn’t,” Jacob replied with a wry smile. “I own a shower-bath.”

Honoria pursed her lips, fighting the smile tugging at their corners. She tried to remain stern, but laughter danced in her eyes.

“Come now,” he coaxed, squeezing her fingers. “It all worked out, didn’t it?”

Her grip tightened slightly. “I will admit, I’m relieved not to spend the next few years in court. That would have been difficult, especially…” She trailed off, lowering her gaze to their joined hands.

Jacob leaned forward. “Especially what?”

A flicker of vulnerability passed over her features as she met his eyes. “Especially with the child on the way.”

Jacob froze, unsure he had heard her correctly. The room seemed to fall away. The only thing anchoring him was her face, her voice.

“What child?”

“Our child,” she whispered, and despite the softness of the words, they rang clearly in his ears.