ROMANCE: MAIL ORDER BRIDE: The Other Man’s Baby (A Clean Christian Historical Western) (New Adult Inspirational Pregnancy Romance) (7 page)

“Is it very obvious, Sara?” Agnes angled her bruised cheek closer to the looking glass, but could see little without her spectacles.

“No, my lady, I can hardly see it myself.”

Blessed Sara would do anything for her, even lie it seemed. Agnes smiled, then gasped in pain. Lifting her lips made her cheekbone burn and ache.

“Thank you, Sara, for your kindness.  But,
the truth
is kindest at this time. If the marks are very obvious, I must refuse to leave the house until they lighten. The men who call on the Duke will little care, but the ladies, “she shrugged her shoulders delicately,” the ladies will take note of every flaw and feel called upon to whisper on them.”

“Very well, my lady. The bruise is gray and blue with a bit of green. It goes way up to the eyebrow. Looks painful it does. Definitely not becoming a new duchess.”

Agnes walked to her bed, but hesitated beside it. She was still unused to the splendor of the four-poster with its canopy and purple velvet curtains. “That decides it then. No outings for me or Lord Richard for a week, and no callers as well.” She sighed deeply. “Turning them away will not prove easy. Many in the village want to pay their respects to the new Duke and Duchess of Remington.”

“Yes, my lady.”

She lifted a book of verses from the bedside table. “Could you inquire how Lionel is coming along with my glasses? My eyes can hardly focus on these words without them.”

“Yes, my lady—“

“Sara!  Please stop. You’ve known me since we were infants.  Call me Agnes in the comfort of my rooms.  I can’t bear hearing ‘my lady’ one more time today.” She tossed her book down and flopped on the bed beside it. Horribly unladylike  she knew, but oddly satisfying. 

Sara’s lips quirked, but she only nodded. 

After Sara had left, Agnes ventured down the long hallway to the nursery. Richard would be already asleep, but gazing upon his sweet gentle face and smoothing his blankets would also sooth her restless soul. For the moment, he still had his beloved nurse. But now that his father was the Duke of Remington, things would soon change for him. She wasn’t certain she liked the changes that were in store.

Nodding at Nurse who sat by the window reading, Agnes moved quickly through the room to the small cot. She smiled. Richard played hard all day, hiding in and out of the stables, riding his pony, chasing the cats, running with the dogs, but when dusk came, he slept as if every bone was exhausted. She swept the hair back from his forehead, but it flopped down again. Like all the men in his family, his locks were unruly dark blond curls. Unruly or not, Agnes adored every single strand. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her son.

#

After conferring with the constable in King’s Crossing for nearly two hours, Dr. Gilbert Crawford galloped on his horse through the valleys toward Remington Manor. He’d been away for five years, but based on his view in the cloudy dusk, he’d say the area hardly had changed. 

His uncle, the Duke, died six weeks ago. Picturing the stern, easily angered man from his childhood, Gilbert couldn’t  work up any emotion, least of all grief. Love for his uncle had
not
brought him back to England.

His return had, instead, been inspired by a plea for help sent to him from his uncle’s longtime valet. It was followed by similar letters from several in his brother Phillip’s staff, loyal servants who had worked for the Crawford family for generations. The valet suspected The Duke’s death was far from natural. The Duke’s son, too, had died in an equally suspicious manner some six months earlier.

Phillip, Gilbert’s eldest brother had inherited the title. Of his two belligerent brothers, Phillip was the worst, both violent and merciless to any he saw as weaker. Like his wife.

Gilbert’s hands tightened on the reins.  Tonight he would see his Sister-in-law, Agnes, for the first time in five years. Agnes. Agnes. Agnes. His lips mouthed the words. She, of all the women he had known, was the one of his dearest dreams. He had befriended her in his youth, shared books with her, philosophies, and secrets. As the youngest son of an Earl, he had no promise of a title, so was free to follow his own desires. He’d had only two: to become a doctor and to marry Agnes. He’d achieved the first at an early enough age.

Agnes had waited for him while he finished school. That’s where his realized dreams ended, for while he was gone, his eldest brother, burdened with debt and poor choices, had cast his eye on Agnes.

A wealthy uncle had promised a sizeable dowry on her behalf to make up for, it seemed, her very poor eyesight and the glasses that were a constant need for her. What were glasses to Gilbert? He pushed his own back up on his nose. Her spectacles had made him happy—they hid her beauty from the rest of the world.

His Agnes could walk on air, and her demeanor, at a mere sixteen, was more gentlewoman than most of the titled women he knew.

He bit the inside of his cheek hard. No, she was not his Agnes. Phillip’s Agnes.

Upon hearing the news of their marriage, he had tried to appeal to his brother and to Agnes’ father, the vicar, but his pleas landed on deaf ears.

He had left the village in 1812, left the country entirely and gone to America to aid the soldiers in the War. When it ended,  he stayed on, finding the people uniquely earthly and lacking the many airs of the English.

To America he would return, once he ensured the safety of both Agnes and her son. If what he suspected was true—the newly named Duke had arranged for the death of the previous one, and Agnes could be in danger once all the pieces of the puzzle came together. Desperate men often performed desperate acts. He spurred his horse to gallop faster.

“My lady, your brother in law is here. He wishes to speak with you.”

Agnes closed her eyes. Her brother in law, John, was one of her least favorite people. She need not worry about hiding her bruises from him; he would likely applaud Phillip for inflicting them. Both were brutes.

“Very well. Please tell him I will be along to meet him shortly.” It was after eight o’clock. What could he want?

When Agnes arrived at the doorway to the drawing room, a man stood before the fireplace, his back to her, his eyes on the portrait of her and Richard that hung on the wall. But even from the behind, and not having seen John for a year, she knew it wasn’t him. He was nowhere near as lean and well-built as this man, and his hair wasn’t as blond.  A chill ran down her arms. He reminded her of—no, it couldn’t be--

“Yes?” She said, her voice unnaturally loud. “May I be of some assistance?”

When the man turned swiftly around, air swooshed from Agnes’ lips and she placed a hand on her erratically beating heart. “Gilbert,” she whispered.

She could wake each day, breathe, live a little, but only if she
never
saw Gilbert Crawford. Her handsome, sweet Gilbert. She couldn’t bear it. The room began to grey, and the last thing she saw was Gilbert striding toward her.

#

Agnes was waking up. Her eyelids lifted, faltered, and then lifted again. The right eye was horribly bruised and swollen. Gilbert longed to sooth it but knew there was little he could do. His fingers curled into fists as he fought the urge to stroke her porcelain jaw, her long auburn curls, her lips.

Damn, Phillip. He had no doubt the violence on her face had been inflicted by his brother. He, too, had suffered the pains of standing too long in his oldest brother’s presence. Minutes ago, Lionel had shown him Agnes’ badly broken glasses. The staff, it seemed, was loyal to their mistress.

“Gilbert.” The word was weak and held a foggy note of bewilderment. “I don’t understand. You said you would never return.”

He straightened, cleared his throat, tried to recall his medical training. Indifference. He needed to find his indifference. “My uncle died. Receiving word and securing passage took nearly a month. There are…questions about his death.”

“Questions?” Agnes struggled to sit. “About what?”

“Never mind that for now, my dear. You’ve suffered a fright. Move slowly, or you risk relapse.”

Before he could move to her side, the drawing room door burst open. Gilbert recognized Sara, Agnes’ childhood friend.

“Duchess, oh Duchess, come quickly. The young Lord is missing.”

Agnes did not hesitate. In one movement it seemed, she sat up and stood. “Missing? How could he be? I checked on him only two hours ago. Nurse is with him.”

“Nurse is gone, too.”

Agnes took a deep breath  seeming to sense that Sara needed her calm. “Perhaps Nurse noticed he was gone and went looking for him. You know how he dearly loves to hide.  I must check the nursery. ”

After she left the room, Gilbert spoke briefly to Lionel before following her.

When Agnes entered the nursery, she shivered. Not only did she immediately feel the lack of Richard’s presence, but a cold breeze swept through the room, cooling it considerably.  The fire had not been kindled  and the April air was blowing through an open window, the drape flapping like a flag. Why was it open? She hurried over and closed it.

Sensing Gilbert behind her, Agnes moved to the cupboards and wardrobes, giving them cursory checks while she gathered her thoughts. Had Richard mentioned wanting to return to the stables? If he was concerned about one of the ponies or horses or even a cat, he might have gone out. Her son had a mind of his own, and worried over every sick creature that crossed his path. She squeezed her eyes shut. Much like his uncle.

No, she could not think of that now. Opening her eyes, she whirled around and crashed into Gilbert.

His hands steadied her. “Whoa, not so fast. You’ve just suffered two shocks in a row.”

Always, Gilbert had treated her as if she was delicate as a weak kitten. Stepping free of his hands which warmed her, as always, from the inside out, Agnes refused to meet his gaze. “I must check the barns and outbuildings.”

“I’ve just sent a search party to check them. If he’s out there, we’ll find him.” His fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his kind gaze. “Richard will be fine, Agnes.”

“How do you know? He’s just so little. And where is Nurse?” She cried. None of this made any sense.

Gilbert held out his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t’ know the answers to all your questions. I need you to trust me. I’m here to help.”

He was right. She couldn’t expect him to know answers Richard’s own parents— Oh no, his parents. His father.  She hadn’t considered her husband. As Duke, he was likely a target of such things. His son, too.   “I should…” She didn’t want to say it, but knew she must. “I should send for Phillip, alert him that Richard might be missing.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Agnes frowned. Where was he? The truth was that Phillip often left the house at night, beginning long before he became duke.  He always returned the next day or several days after. Likely a mistress. She hadn’t considered where he was going, just felt relief that he was gone.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Gilbert looked skeptical. “You’re certain?’

Then it was her turn to feel skeptical. She stepped forward. “Gilbert, what’s your visit concerning? Do you know why my son would vanish from his rooms? We’ve gone five years without a word from you.”
Five years, two months, and a few weeks
, but she didn’t say the words aloud. “

“Let’s leave that topic until we hear from the search party. Why don’t you order some tea for Richard to warm him once he is found?”

Yes, tea. Tea would keep her busy and away from Gilbert while she thought. She nodded, then hurried away.

#

Gilbert paced to the nursery window. The lights from lanterns danced out over the grounds like fireflies. They wouldn’t find the boy. He just hoped the men would return soon, so he could persuade Agnes to accompany him in the carriage on a search.

An hour later, the search was abandoned as Nurse and Richard were not found on the estate, but fresh footprints were found in the soft earth beneath his window and  equally fresh wagon tracks lead away from the manor. Tears threatened to fall, but Agnes kept them at bay.

Gilbert determined that he and Lionel would venture out, see where the tracks led and alert the constable in Richmond. Before they could leave, however, Agnes insisted on coming, too. He surprised her by agreeing readily enough, only advising that she dress warmly in the night air and gather warm clothes for Richard as well.

They pulled out onto the road, Lionel in front, and Agnes sitting across from Gilbert in the carriage. The sky was starless, heavy with clouds. She stared out the window, squinting, hoping to see something, but knowing even without the dark, her poor eyesight without spectacles would prevent her sighting much. When the silence became unbearable she turned to him. He sat calmly, his hands folded in his lap, his gaze upon her. It must be his medical training that allowed him such calm stoicism. Even when he was a child, he had excelled at calm.

“Tell me about your America.” She had of course seen many paintings and read many stories, but none created clear pictures in her mind.

Gilbert smiled. “My America, eh? Let me see.  I settled in the most British of all cities, Boston,  which boasts a harbor and countryside, as well as city entertainments.”

Agnes laughed softly. “Boston of infamy.”

“Yes, that.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, as if picturing it. “Americans are quite different than their English cousins. There is courageousness, a sense of adventure that  we, perhaps,  shared at one time, but they have by the bushel.”

“And you,“ she said, intrigued, “do you share this sense of adventure and courage?”

He laughed outright. “Me? No, I am not a bit more adventuresome than I was when you knew me. You, my dear, were always the adventurous one.  I do find it a joy to behold.” He sobered, then turned his head toward her again. “Just as I did in you.”

She swallowed hard, warmth blossoming in her chest as only he was able to create. 

“As far as courage, no, I have never had enough of that either—“

“Why ever say that? You journeyed to America to aid our soldiers during the war. You saved me from many disadvantages as a child—“

“Yes, but not the biggest disadvantage of all—marrying my brother.” He leaned forward,  grabbing her hands from her lap and holding them firmly. “I’ve thought back over it so many times, Agnes, how I should have fought him for you, fought to the death. At least, had I died, I wouldn’t have struggled as I have, missing you every day of my life.”

Agnes gasped. His words were too fresh to be spoken to a married woman, too raw to be spoken to her. She closed her eyes briefly, squeezed his hands, then gently tugged hers away. She was a duchess.

“You could no more take a life than my Richard could. You were born to save lives, not take them.” She met his gaze earnestly. “All things for a purpose. Had you remained here, there are lives in America that wouldn’t have been saved. British soldiers who returned home to their wives and children because you were there. Had you fought for me, even won me, that likely would not have been the case.” She smiled then. “Because I, dear Gilbert, am not as selfless as you are. I could not have born it if you’d left me behind.”

His troubled face cleared. “Do you believe all that, Agnes?”

She smiled. “I am a vicar’s daughter. Of course I believe it.”
Even if she did not like it.
Even if her heart was shattering in a million pieces just sitting this close to him and not being able to draw in close and snuggle into his warmth, wrap her arms around his neck, touch his lips with hers. She turned back to the window, sensing more than seeing the passing of greenery, of small forest groves, of time.

#

Gilbert cleared his throat roughly and turned around to the front of the carriage. “Lionel, are you still guided by the previous tracks?”

“Yes, sir. But we’re coming upon a fork and I see more than one set. Do make a decision about which I should follow.”

Not wanting to appear too knowledgeable, he hesitated before answering. “Take the right toward the village. If we find nothing, we will backtrack.”

In the village, he jumped out at the tavern, telling Agnes he would enquire within. In truth, all he enquired over was the last time the duke had visited, which was that very night.

As he approached the carriage again, he heard soft cries from within. Damn! After whispering their next stop to Lionel, he opened the carriage door. Before he could stop himself he climbed into the seat beside Agnes, and pulled her into his arms.

She resisted at first, her body stiff and unyielding, her jaw tight as she attempted to contain her distress. But he whispered to her as he would an injured animal and rubbed her back until she relaxed into his arms and sobbed openly.

“I’ve lost so much, Gilbert. My family…” She hesitated, then mumbled, “ You.” She cleared her throat and leaned back slightly so she could look at him. “I cannot live if I lose my son as well. He is everything good about us all. Everything.”

“There, there, my dear. We have one more stop to make—to alert the constable in Richmond and then we’ll continue on to Edington. At the tavern, I learned  two strangers enquired about directions to some farmland east of there.”

“Oh, Gilbert, do you think we’ll find him? Tonight?” She smiled, then wiped self-consciously at her face with a sodden handkerchief. He pulled his from his pocket and offered it.

“Thank you,” She whispered. “I’m sorry for giving in to my fears. I am often not a good vicar’s daughter.” She closed her eyes and pulled away completely, pushing her head back against the seat.

“Is that what your father told you?” He whispered. There was much they needed to speak of, much that had happened before she married, before he left the country. Things that happened when they believed their marriage predestined.

Agnes nodded. “Among other things.”

“I believe, had he to do it over again, your father would make different choices.” He needed her to know that.

“Don’t speak of it now,” she pleaded. Keeping her head against the seat, she rolled her face toward him. “Let us bring Richard home, and then,” she took a deep breath, “If the Duke is still away, you will tell me why you have come and perhaps we will speak lightly of back then. Just once though. I can’t bear to speak of it more than once.”

Much they needed to work through. So much she didn’t know. He leaned his head against the seat, too, and drew a deep breath turning to her again. He gave in to his earlier desires and stroked her jaw just once before dropping his hand. “Very well, let that be our plan.”