Mr. Darcy's Great Escape (24 page)

She was shaking. She did not shy away from his touch, but it was obvious that she did so by fighting her own instincts. Clearly, they had told her something terrible. Not altogether different from what they told maidens in England, probably, which he always thought was outright ridiculous. He finally swallowed and replied, “No. God, no.” He sat down next to her, off the end of the bed, holding her hand and nothing else. “Nady, you have no reason to be frightened, whatever they told you.” She had, he could now see, long black hair, still tied up, not in the English way, but in many braids. It was silky and beautiful in the lamplight. “I love you.”

“But we have to—”

“It's not so terrible,” he said. “Trust me. Do you trust me? Of course not, you have no reason to trust me, the silly Englishman. But I am very much in love with you.” He held her covering up when she tried to take it down. “No. We have time.” He was expected back eventually, but not so quickly. Besides, at this point, he didn't really care what the count thought. “May I see your hair?”

She looked at him blankly.

“I've never seen it before,” he said. “Not—down. Or at all. Please?”

She obliged him, of course, un-twirling her long braids of beautiful jet hair that came down past her shoulder blades. He sat there entranced until she was finished, not saying a word as he cupped her chin and kissed her on the side of her head. “I love you.”

“I trust you,” she said at last. “I do.”

“You shouldn't, you know. You shouldn't trust anyone,” he said, teasing her, and she laughed. He saw some of the tension leave with the sound of it. “Except maybe me. My Nadezhda.” He kissed her again, softly, testing it on her cheek. She did not turn away, but she tightened up. “I suppose they told you some horrible nonsense about marital relations, or relations with someone other than me. I suppose, I'm not so impressive, but—” But he couldn't think of a way to end the sentence. I'm experienced. And I love you so very, very much, and I want you to want me as badly as I want you. “Now I'm a little frightened.”

“Of what?” she said.

“I—I've never been with a maiden. And certainly, I've never been with a wife,” he smiled. “I am, despite all of this Your Highness nonsense, an English gentleman who feels a responsibility to make his wife happy in his conduct.”

“You must have a lovely country.”

“I am painting a very rosy picture, aren't I?” Brian said. “No, it's a country like any other, but I was raised with morals. I didn't always appreciate them or follow them, but I can try now.”

“I heard you are nobility.”

“Descended from. But that doesn't mean you're noble. My brother on the other hand is so stupidly noble it's surprising he hasn't gotten himself killed yet.”

“You miss him?” she said, taking his hand. She must have been reading his facial expressions.

“Yes. But perhaps one day, we will invite him or visit him. He has a wife and two children, Frederick and Emily. We should have portraits done of us in that royal garb and send it to England. He'll get a good laugh at that.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm the scoundrel in the family,” he said. “I don't deserve any of this. I don't deserve to be this happy.”

She leaned against him, which was indeed making him very happy. “Why do you always talk like that?”

“Because it's true. Your husband was a gambler, a man of vices and a hunted man.” Brian situated himself better on the pillows next to her, putting his feet up. “When I was eighteen, my father died. We were on bad terms with my uncle, who is the older brother and therefore inherited the earldom of Maddox, so we had no support. I was left to raise my brother Daniel, who was much younger than I, and to manage our fortune. I wasn't ready for it. I couldn't be a father to my brother. I wanted to go to University and have fun and drink. So I managed for a few years, and then I started indulging myself. While my brother was in school, I gambled away our entire fortune. I took out loans to get him his license so he might be a doctor and have a living, and then I ran from my creditors. I traveled all of Europe, abandoning my brother and my responsibilities. Then when I returned, I betrayed him to someone I held a debt to, and that man might have murdered him if he hadn't been so good at getting away. I didn't know that, but I shouldn't have trusted the man, nonetheless.” He pulled back his tunic. “The scar, from where I was stabbed.”

“By your brother?”

“Good heavens, no. Danny would never stab me. By the man who meant to stab him. I was in the way. Now I am a cripple because of it, because even Danny couldn't fix me, and he is brilliant at his profession. He serves the Prince Regent, who is essentially our king. Then I ran again, because no one seemed to want me around—and for good reason—and then I met your father. And you.” He kissed the hand he was holding. “Then my life changed. Who knows, you may have made me a good man.”

“May I see?” Nadezhda said, reaching towards the scar. “I mean, may I touch—?”

“Of course,” he said, and removed his shirt entirely. He wasn't covered in scars, but he had a few of them, certainly, and her caressing of him was… making it very hard for him to go this slowly. “I'll tell you the stories, if you like. Behind them.”

She giggled and pressed on the line on the left side of his belly. “Tell me.”

“Oh God, that's not a good one to start on. A woman did that to me, a girl in Rome, a… woman of a certain profession. It was over money from a certain—service rendered. I thought it was rendered poorly; she didn't. So we had an argument. That's why I'll never go back to Rome, thank you very much. And stop that, it tickles,” he said. “Or continue. Whatever you like, Your Highness. I am at your mercy.”

“Hardly!”

“A husband is always at his wife's mercy. You should see the leash Mrs. Maddox leads my brother around with,” he said, and it took her a moment to realize he wasn't being literal. “May I kiss you?”

“You do not have to ask. Your Highness.”

This was not the same type of kiss. It was the first time he had ever truly kissed her fully, and it was incredible. There was very little sense left in him to keep himself together.
Go slow. You have all night
. But he didn't want to take all night, not now, when she seemed comfortable with him, or at least the idea of him.

He let his hand slide down her shoulder and arm, taking the fabric down with it, and she didn't seem to mind. Certainly, it would be hard for her to talk with her mouth otherwise engaged. A woman's body was something to listen to, like an instrument, and there was no outright rejection, just trepidation. No man had touched her like this, he had no doubt. He had no reason to ask. “May I—?” he left it an open question. Would she give him the leniency to explore? She nodded and gave a little gasp when he did. He halted with one hand in a very circumspect place.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

He raised a very surprised eyebrow. “You minx.”

His remaining clothes seemed to come off naturally. She was slowly stripping away all of his mental fortitude as well. She was his wife. He had to take her. He had to do that awful thing that would only hurt once, he promised. He kissed her; he lost his head and couldn't speak very much. His senses were gone and didn't return until he was, at least temporarily, satiated, and rolled over in a huffing heap.

“That—was it?”

Brian turned to his wife. “I'm a bit insulted, my lady, by your implication.”

“I mean—that was the great pain?” she said. He wasn't mistaken about the whole incident and took great care to wipe up on the stupid ceremonial sheet. “I've had bruises that felt worse than that!”

He laughed and fell onto her. “You're quite a woman,” he said.

The doors to the princess's chambers remained locked for the rest of the night and most of the next day.

***

For the first few months, there was little that could irk Brian out of his marital bliss. He was given very few baronial responsibilities, as his father-in-law seemed to regard him as more of a breeding implement than the future count, but he was required to accompany them for dinners and hunting parties. He had, by regulation, tried to sleep separately from his wife. This regulation was regularly broken, and no one said a word, though he had no doubt that everyone knew that one or another was sneaking off at all hours and not returning after the allotted time. Fine by him. He was the prince now. The only one who could overrule him was the count, who seemed to have no issue with his new son's apparent virility.

One other habit did not waver, which was to write to his brother. He was besotted, and he knew his letters were probably dreadful because of it, but he cared very little. The point was, he was writing to Danny, and it made him feel less lonely, when he did feel lonely, at least for his brother and his extended family.

He did leave out any anxieties he had, and there were few, until the third month. He was barred from Nadezhda's chambers by her maid, who would not take any reasoning for quite a while before she gave in to his demanding stare and allowed him entrance. He found her not in her bed but hunched over on a bench, weeping and clutching her stomach, surrounded by servants who looked very upset by his intrusion.

He ignored them all. “Nadezhda—” He ran to her side but was bodily stopped by an older woman.

“Please, Your Highness,” she said. “This is a woman's business.”

“This is my wife's business! Will you not allow me to comfort her?” he shouted, and Nadezhda tried to wave him off as he took a seat beside her and kissed her on the forehead. “Nady. Tell me what is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong,” said the woman. “This is quite normal for her. It is her affliction, and you have no business in it.”

“And who are you to say that?” he said, putting an arm around his shivering wife.

“The midwife, Your Highness. Please. She has dealt with this for years.”

It took a moment, but slowly it came together for him. It occurred to Brian that for not a single night had he been separated from her, when he should have been by basic necessity for a few days a month at the very least. He knew that much—and much more—about feminine biology. Though many women were told they were ill during this period and had some pain, it was nothing like this, something manifesting like a physical ailment. There was something irregular about her system, and he was damned that he did not know what it was. This was what she had spoken of before their marriage. But she did bleed, so maybe she could conceive.

“Nady,” he whispered in her ear. “Do you want me to go or stay with you? I will do as you wish, but I wish very much to stay and help you.”

“You cannot help me,” she whimpered. “No one can help me.”

“I will search the ends of the earth and speak to every doctor, but until then I will not be satisfied that no one can help you,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. “Do you wish me gone now?”

Her face was hard to see with her hair so loose and so bent over, but she did manage to whisper back, “No.”

He kept vigil with her through three horrible days of pain. When she was too tired to speak, his mind wandered to all the possibilities. She was not undeveloped, so perhaps she could conceive, perhaps it would be the best thing for her. This was what she had dealt with since the end of her girlhood? And yet, he could not bring himself to write to his brother. First, Daniel Maddox was too proper and modest to be any sort of expert on woman's matters, something he was forced on many occasions to repeat. He could do something if there was a problem during childbirth, but that was the extent of his knowledge. Second, Brian could not bring himself to break the illusion that all was well. He was, when she recovered, very happy with her, and did not for a moment regret his choice to marry her. What he could do—and what her father did not seem to have the sense to do—was demand, quite adamantly, that a decent doctor be sent to examine her.

A man did arrive from Russia. Brian had said France, but at the moment, he settled and endured the harsh looks from his father-in-law when he allowed Dr. Petronov into the princess's chambers. In fact, he held her hand for the inspection, which was apparently unpleasant. The doctor, who spoke no Romanian, had to speak through a translator to Brian, whose Russian was equally bad, but essentially the conclusion was reached that while she was probably not totally and utterly incapable of conceiving, it was a highly unlikely prospect, and there was no way to be sure.

Brian called for another doctor. This one came from Prussia, looked utterly confused at the whole matter, and made the graver conclusion that she could not conceive, and in fact, would not live a normal lifetime. Brian, out of sheer mental necessity, had to dismiss the latter idea as too radical of a pronouncement.

The count took the news dismissively. He wanted to hear nothing of his daughter's failings, nor would he hear of calling a French doctor. He was not endeared to the young upstart Napoleon. Brian, feeling helpless, resolved that if his wife had a very narrow and unknown time for conception, he would do his best to happen upon it by sheer persistence. Nadezhda, no longer the terrified girl he had found on their wedding night, seemed happy with at least that prospect. She was, in front of her father, still the same little girl, but her mood changed behind closed doors, and she opened up to Brian. Her life was beyond sheltered, her only activities beyond the castle walls being the hunt, and she wanted to hear all of his wild tales. Inside her chamber or his, behind closed doors, there was total bliss.

Two years came and went, and he helped her through seven more devastating “afflictions.” He was now established in the palace, and though his position carried weight with everyone but the count, his father-in-law did not waver in his blind insistence on his daughter's health and his son's failures—though certainly, there was enough palace talk to know his son was particularly prestigious in the area of being with his wife.