Authors: Adrienne Basso
Intimate Betrayal (25 page)
“Since I am the guest of honor, they cannot begin without us,” Alyssa reasoned, lowering her head to his stomach.
“It would be most impolite,” Morgan agreed in a hoarse voice as Alyssa pressed kisses down his stomach and then on his thighs. “To start without us, I mean.
“Yes, it would be most impolite. The dowager duchess would never be that rude, would she, Morgan?”
“No.” Morgan groaned. Alyssa slowly lowered her head between his thighs. He could only tolerate a few minutes of her torture before pulling her up on top of him. “I do believe we shall be very late to dinner, my love,” he told her, kissing her hungrily.
“I do hope so, Morgan,” she whispered, returning his kisses with equal enthusiasm. “I certainly do hope so.”
Caroline paced the floor by the large bay window in her bedchamber, attempting unsuccessfully to contain her distress. Tristan sat in a comfortable chair by the roaring fire, book in hand, casually observing his wife as she marched.
“Sit down, Caroline,” he admonished. “I believe you are starting to wear a hole in the carpet.”
“I do not find that the least bit amusing, Tristan,” she said, her blue eyes flashing. “How can you sit there so calmly? Don’t you realize what has happened?”
Tristan slowly lowered his book and stared at her. “I am not sure I understand what you are referring to. Would you care to enlighten me, my dear?”
Caroline threw her arms up in agitation. “For God’s sake, Tristan, stop being so obtuse. You know perfectly well I am referring to Alyssa. Your brother’s new wife. The latest Duchess of Gillingham. Who looks as though she is about to birth the new heir to the dukedom at any moment.”
“I fail to see how Alyssa’s condition directly affects you,” he commented dryly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop toying with me, Tristan. We both know you are next in line to inherit the dukedom. All that has now changed. Morgan has a new wife who will obviously be producing the next heir anytime. I simply cannot believe Morgan has done this to us!”
Tristan snapped the book shut in anger over her last remark. “What are you babbling about, Caroline?”
Caroline hesitated a moment, then continued with her tirade. “Morgan always said he would never again marry. He has formally named you his heir. Even on our wedding day he remarked he fully expected me to carry on the Ashton line and produce the next duke. I always assumed you would eventually inherit the title.”
“Obviously your assumptions were incorrect,” Tristan said strongly, his voice still laced with anger.
“It is not fair!”
“I had no idea you were such a snob,” Tristan said lightly, his face void of emotion. “I fear you have made a grave mistake in your choice of husband, Caroline. If you had your heart set on becoming a duchess, you should have set your sights higher than a mere second son.”
His words stopped her dead in her tracks. Caroline glanced over at her husband. She could tell by the very blankness of his expression he was wounded by her thoughtless remarks. Remorseful, she rushed over to Tristan’s chair and knelt at his feet.
“Oh, Tris,” she whispered, clutching at the sleeve of his coat. “I did not mean to distress you. Morgan’s sudden marriage has been a great shock.”
“I am sorry I cannot give you what you so greatly desire, my dear.”
Caroline felt the tears gather in her eyes. “No, Tris, I am the one who should apologize. For being such a fool. The title isn’t important, truly. Without your love, I honestly don’t believe I could survive. Please tell me I am forgiven,” she pleaded.
Tristan lifted her into his lap, and she snuggled against his broad chest. “Of course I forgive you, Caroline,” he said softly. “I regret you allowed your emotions to become overset. Still, you were gravely mistaken believing you would someday become the Duchess of Gillingham.”
“But Morgan said—” she began, but stopped when Tristan glared at her.
“I don’t care what Morgan said,” he interjected, becoming annoyed again. “Despite what my brother may have led you to believe, I have always known he would once again marry when the time was right. We should wish him joy now that he has finally found the proper woman.”
“My goodness, Tris, I cannot believe you don’t feel any resentment toward your brother. Morgan gets everything, merely because he is the firstborn son. My father was a younger son and has had to struggle financially for most of his life. I always resented my uncle for inheriting the lion’s share of the wealth.”
“My situation is entirely different, Caroline. I have substantial properties from both my grandmother and mother, not to mention an allowance and a significant share in a vast majority of Morgan’s business ventures.”
“Oh,” Caroline answered in a small voice. She was completely unaware of their financial situation. Tristan had always been very casual about spending money, and there always seemed to be plenty of it. Who or where it came from was never an issue. “Are you telling me that we are . . . are well off?”
“Extremely,” Tristan answered dryly. The muscles in his jaw cramped. “Apparently I have misjudged you, Caroline. You are not really a snob. In truth, you are a fortune hunter.”
“Hummph,” Caroline huffed with a toss of her blond curls. “Forgive me for being pleased to learn of our financial security.”
He gave her a small hug. “I suppose we ought to have discussed this sooner.” He kissed her temples soothingly, and she relaxed against him.
“Does this mean we are very rich, Tristan?” Caroline turned her head up, gazing at him with sparkling eyes.
Tristan wrinkled his nose at her. “Perhaps,” he responded cagily. “This does not mean, however, you have my permission to start spending money like the regent, Caroline.”
Caroline gave a small laugh. “I understand, Tris. It is a great relief knowing we have financial security. When I think of my poor sister Priscilla, I shudder. Lord Ogden’s lands were entailed, and since there were no children born from her marriage, Priscilla received nothing from her husband’s estate or family. It was dreadful and she was very hurt and angry. Now Priscilla depends solely on my father for her keep, and you know how tightfisted he can be.”
“You need never worry about that happening to you, Caroline,” Tristan said seriously. “There is more than enough money for you to be well provided for if something ever happened to me.”
Caroline felt a lump rise in her throat at the thought of losing Tristan. She didn’t know how she would possibly cope. How could she face each morning without her beloved Tris?
“I have been acting like a complete ninny over this entire incident,” she said, her blue eyes darkening with distress.
“I know it must be difficult for you to comprehend my feelings in this matter, but I truly don’t resent my brother for being firstborn. Morgan has always been kind and generous. He has watched over and tried to protect me most of my life. In order for me to succeed the title, Morgan must die without issue. Surely you can understand, Caroline, ’tis far too high a price to pay.”
“I understand,” she said softly, sincerity replacing the distress in her lovely face. “I, too, care for Morgan. I promise I shall work very hard at making Alyssa feel welcome in our family. For Morgan’s sake. And yours.”
“Thank you. I know Morgan will appreciate your efforts. I suspect their sudden marriage will prove a difficult adjustment for both of them.” Tristan patted her hand affectionately. “Do cheer up, Caroline. This baby might be a girl. Then if you and I have a son, he could inherit the title.”
Caroline’s face lit up at the thought, but she frowned, wondering if Tristan was mocking her. “It wouldn’t be disloyal to hope that Alyssa’s baby is a girl, would it, Tris?”
“A healthy, normal baby girl?”
“Naturally.”
He gave her a heart-melting smile. “I don’t see why not. It can be our little secret.” Enfolding his young wife in a passionate embrace, Tristan amply demonstrated his forgiveness.
The dowager duchess beamed with delight as she sat in regal splendor at the head of the large mahogany dining table. Morgan sat to her right and Tristan to her left, and seated closely beside them were their respective wives. The dowager occupied the position at the head of the table, and Priscilla sat at the opposite end.
Both couples arrived sheepishly late for dinner, but the dowager duchess was not upset, especially in the case of Morgan and Alyssa. Morgan seemed far more relaxed than he had been in months, and Alyssa fairly glowed, the sparkle in her deep green eyes as brilliant as the stunning emerald-and-diamond necklace she proudly wore around her neck. As always, Tris and Caroline mainly had eyes for each other, but the dowager was pleased to note Caroline’s subtle attempt to compensate Alyssa for her rude behavior earlier. Time and again, Caroline addressed her comments and questions to Alyssa, deliberately steering the conversation toward topics that would specifically include Alyssa’s participation.
Yes, the dowager duchess was very pleased indeed with her two handsome grandsons and their lovely wives. Ceremonially, she lifted her wineglass, and pushing back her chair noisily, rose to her feet.
“Children,” she said in a firm voice. “I should like to propose a toast.” She waited while everyone stood up, glasses in hand. “To the new Duchess of Gillingham. And the duke. Long life, good health, and great happiness.”
“To the duke and his bride,” Priscilla said merrily.
“Hear, hear,” Tristan chimed in loudly, drinking down his wine.
“And to my beloved Tristan and dear Caroline,” the dowager duchess continued. “A lifetime of love and happiness.”
“Tris and Caroline,” Morgan echoed with a smile, his goblet raised high. “And to you, Grandmother. For your endless love, devotion, and above all, great wisdom.”
The dowager duchess felt the tears well in her eyes as they all faced her with glasses raised, genuine affection evident in each face. I am truly blessed, she concluded. Pray God it will last for a very long time.
Chapter Nineteen
In the following weeks, Alyssa gradually adjusted to her new role as duchess. Ramsgate Castle was already run with great efficiency under the combined guidance of Burke and Mrs. Keenly, and Alyssa saw no need to intervene when it was obviously unnecessary. The dowager duchess remained at the castle, and both Morgan and Alyssa were happy she elected to stay rather than accept Tristan and Caroline’s invitation to return to London with them for the remainder of the season.
Alyssa felt her relationship with Morgan was progressing, even though they were a far cry from achieving the honesty and trust she knew was vital to maintaining a lifelong involvement. Alyssa held her love for Morgan deep within her heart, allowing it to surface on those occasions when circumstances were simply too emotional for it to be contained. Morgan’s feelings for her remained a mystery, yet she knew he cared for her, and Alyssa secretly harbored the hope he would someday come to love her.
For now, Alyssa was content to concentrate her efforts on the coming birth of her child. To that end, she sat in the drawing room on this chilly morning in late November, carefully embroidering neat, tiny stitches on a small garment for the baby. Caroline, recently arrived with Tristan the evening before for a short visit, sat with her.
“Your stitches are perfectly uniform,” Caroline remarked, gently fingering the small garment. “I doubt I possess the patience to produce such exquisite stitches.”
“I share your amazement for my handiwork,” Alyssa responded, holding the tiny garment aloft. “Being in confinement produces a sudden interest in the most unusual activities.”
Caroline cast a sympathetic gaze at her sister-in-law. “The endless waiting must be maddening.”
“It is,” Alyssa readily agreed. “The only thing keeping me sane is knowing it will soon be over.” She patted her large belly gently. “And it is for a very good cause.”
“What good cause?” Morgan inquired casually, entering the drawing room. His eyes immediately rested on Alyssa as if he could tell merely at a glance how his wife was faring this morning. Her color was high, but her face looked fatigued, and he detected faint circles under her eyes. He wondered if she had had difficulty sleeping last night.
“Did you sleep all right?” he asked solicitously.
“Fine,” Alyssa lied, deliberately avoiding his eyes.
“You should have called me,” Morgan admonished, bending down to kiss his wife on the forehead. He knew she had been lying by the way she scrupulously avoided eye contact with him. “I would have sat with you.”
“There was no reason to disturb you,” Alyssa stated quietly. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her fingers nimbly pushed the thin needle through the fine fabric as the tension in the room subtly built.
“Caroline, where is your wayward husband this morning?” Morgan inquired, needing to divert the restless energy building inside him. “Tristan expressed an interest in accompanying me to Charter Oaks this afternoon. Lord Edmunds has a champion mare he might be willing to part with if I can tempt him with the right price.”
“Tristan is working in the estate room with your secretary, Mr. Cameron,” Caroline responded. “I’d be happy to remind him of your afternoon outing.” She hurried out of the room before Morgan had a chance to reply, closing the door behind her.
Alyssa rose awkwardly from her chair and stretched out the aching muscles of her back. Morgan appeared instantly at her side and reached down, his strong fingers massaging her lower back. Alyssa groaned in appreciation and arched her spine, the tension in her sore muscles lessening.
“That feels wonderful.” She moaned. “I’m not sure why I feel all twisted in knots this morning.”
“It is because you didn’t get enough rest last night, madam,” Morgan scolded. “You should have called me.”
“You should have come of your own accord,” she whispered.
Morgan sighed heavily, knowing she was right. He should have gone into her bedchamber last night to check on her. The door connecting their bedchambers had been closed last night, and for the past several weeks after Baron Welles, the family physician, firmly instructed Morgan to sleep in his own bed. Morgan understood physical intimacy with his beautiful wife was impossible, but he certainly possessed enough self-discipline to offer the comfort of a strong embrace without becoming a sexual animal.
So why didn’t he enter Alyssa’s bedchamber last evening when he heard her restlessly tossing and turning in her bed? Because he was a coward, he admitted to himself in disgust. Because somehow, some way, his beautiful, dignified, unique wife had wormed her way solidly through his defenses and into his heart. And he felt completely unequipped to cope with these feelings. Fear of failure caused him to act like any other coward. Morgan kept a reasonable distance.
Alyssa abandoned her embroidery and rose to her feet. She met his eyes, and the distress he saw there propelled him forward. Morgan stretched his arms around Alyssa, pulling her against his chest, her back toward him. Her temple grazed his lips, and he kissed her there gently before bending his head to nuzzle her neck. “I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly in her ear, so faintly she was uncertain she understood his words correctly.
She leaned back, enjoying the feel of his strong arms around her. Reaching up she stroked his fingers, clasped together across her swollen belly.
“I love you, Morgan,” she confessed quietly.
He tightened his grip on her stomach. “I’m glad.”
She knew better than to hope for any other response, but for once it didn’t seem to bother her as much.
“Have you made any other plans for today besides fleecing Lord Edmunds?” she inquired casually, breaking the intense emotion crackling between them.
“Ha,” Morgan guffawed. “You, madam, are obviously unaware of how truly tightfisted Lord Edmunds can be. ’Tis not merely sound business practice, but a matter of honor besting him in a deal, especially when purchasing an animal from his stables.”
“Well if Tristan accompanies you, I pity Lord Edmunds. One of you is bad enough, but the combined strength of two is quite unbeatable. The poor man won’t know what’s hit him.”
Morgan smiled, basking in her praise. “I suppose Tris and I do present a formidable team. Tell me, what are your plans today?”
Alyssa walked over to the long windows and gazed hungrily out at the brilliant autumn sunshine. “First I thought I would start my day with a ride through the south meadow, followed by a brisk walk about the gardens, and spend the remainder of the afternoon shopping in the village.”
“I know it has been difficult being so limited in your activities,” Morgan began in a condescending voice.
“You do not have the slightest notion of how it has been for me, sir,” she interrupted, not liking his tone.
That gave him pause. “You are right, Alyssa,” he conceded. “I don’t know. But I’d be pleased to take a stroll in the garden with you now, if you feel up to the task.” He amended his statement when he saw her face light up. “A short walk. And be sure to dress warmly.”
“Naturally,” she retorted, ringing for Burke to summon her maid to fetch her woolen cloak and bonnet.
“Oh, and by the way, Baron Welles will be joining us for dinner this evening,” Morgan informed Alyssa as he assisted her into her pelisse.
Alyssa’s shoulders sagged. “Morgan, is it really necessary for the good doctor to dine with us every other evening?”
“I thought you liked Baron Welles,” the duke said, deflecting her question. He prudently decided now was not the appropriate time to inform her he had already made arrangements for the physician to move into Ramsgate Castle a few weeks before the baby was due to arrive.
“I like Baron Welles very much,” Alyssa countered. “It does, however, make me rather nervous having a doctor intently studying my every move. I am only having a baby, Morgan. It is not as though I were gravely ill.”
“I find Baron Welles’s presence has a calming effect on me,” Morgan declared. “I know we will all appreciate his assistance when the time comes.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Alyssa grudgingly agreed. “I shall tell Cook to prepare the apple tarts the baron so enjoys. Now, may we please go on our walk before you think of some ridiculous reason why we cannot go out today?”
The stabbing pain woke Alyssa from a sound sleep. Groaning loudly she tried sitting up, but another pain struck. Glancing at the ornate porcelain-and-gold clock on the mantel, she noted it was two o’clock. After her invigorating walk with Morgan she had returned to the drawing room. Feeling too tired to make the long climb to her bedchamber, Alyssa stretched out on the couch for a few minutes.
I must have fallen asleep, she reasoned. Firmly gripping the edge of the settee, she managed a sitting position, wondering if Morgan and Tristan had left for Charter Oaks. Another sharp pain hit her, and realization began to dawn. Was it possible? Could the baby be coming?
Alyssa sat silently, fighting the increasing pain and sudden nausea, when Tristan walked in unexpectedly.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he said pleasantly. “Business prevented me from accompanying Morgan this afternoon, and I hoped we could have lunch together. When I came earlier, you were asleep. Gentleman that I am, I decided to battle my hunger and wait for you. I shall tell Burke to have luncheon served immediately. My God, Alyssa, what is wrong?” Tristan’s voice became ragged as he saw her pale face and convulsing body.
“It’s the baby, Tris,” Alyssa ground out when she caught her breath. “I’m having the baby.” She clutched her arms around her belly, cradling the pain.
“Now? You are having the baby now?” His eyes widened in shock. “But that is impossible. It is too early.”
“I know, Tris,” she said, her eyes betraying her fear. “Something must be wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong, Alyssa,” he replied soothingly, angry at himself for distressing her with his thoughtless remarks. “The baby has simply decided now is the proper time to be born.” He rushed over and yanked insistently on the bell cord for Burke. Tristan was excessively relieved when the butler readily answered his call.
“It is the duchess, Burke,” Tristan told the butler calmly. “Her labor has started. Kindly fetch my grandmother.” Alyssa moaned softly. “At once,” Tristan added.
Burke cast a concerned eye toward Alyssa, who sat perched on the edge of the settee, rocking slightly to and fro. “The dowager duchess is out visiting with the vicar this afternoon, my lord.”
Tristan ran his fingers nervously through his hair. “That’s right. I forgot. Caroline is with her also. All right, then call Mrs. Glyndon.” Tristan was of the opinion his grandmother’s companion could be a bit flighty at times, but he desperately needed a woman’s assistance. Mrs. Glyndon would have to suffice.
“Mrs. Glyndon accompanied the dowager duchess,” Burke replied.
Tristan’s shoulders slumped. Don’t panic, he insisted to himself. Alyssa needs you to remain calm. “Have Mavis sent in here immediately, Burke,” Tristan said decisively.
“Mavis and Mrs. Keenly have gone to the village to do the weekly shopping,” Burke announced, his downcast eyes betraying his unhappiness with the answer he was forced to give.
“Bloody hell! Are there any goddamn women left in this castle?” Tristan practically shouted at Burke.
“Tristan, for heaven’s sake, stop yelling at poor Burke. It is not his fault.” Alyssa would have found the whole situation extremely amusing if a rather strong contraction had not gripped her precisely at that moment.
“I am sorry, Burke,” Tristan apologized. “Please call Janet.” Alyssa’s maid was young, but at this point he had little choice. Janet should be able to prepare the bedchamber properly and assist Alyssa with her clothing.
Burke looked miserably at Tristan. “Janet has gone into the village with Mavis and Mrs. Keenly,” the butler blurted out.
Tristan was biting his lower lip, trying not to break into nervous laughter. This is utterly ludicrous, he thought. A loud moan from Alyssa sent him into action. His military training came rushing to the forefront, and he barked out his commands.
“Send footmen out immediately with urgent messages for the duke, Baron Welles, the dowager duchess, and Mavis. Instruct everyone to return to the castle at once. I will stay with the duchess until someone arrives.”
“Very good, my lord,” Burke replied, rushing out to follow Tristan’s orders.
Tristan walked back to the settee and looked down confused at Alyssa. “What can I do to help you, Alyssa?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know, Tris,” she admitted, her breathing shallow. “Perhaps I should go upstairs?”
“Yes, an excellent idea,” Tristan quickly responded, pleased they had a plan of action. “Grab on to my arm firmly. I shall help you stand.”
Alyssa took a deep breath and, gripping the arm Tristan held out to her, pulled herself upright. He immediately placed his other arm around her waist to steady her and they began to walk slowly across the room together.
“Tris!” Alyssa suddenly called out in alarm. She glanced down at the floor and then up into his eyes. “Something strange is happening.” She looked at him with pure terror in her eyes, and he stared in amazement at a small puddle on the Aubusson carpet at her feet.
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