Married to the Viscount (37 page)

“Don’t talk to me of risk,” Spencer said fiercely. “I’m risking more than you can imagine by continuing this marriage, knowing what could happen.”

“Knowing what could happen and planning for it are two different things, Spencer. There’s no risk in holding your heart in check and refusing to consider adoption. Because if anything goes wrong, you’ve lost nothing. You already knew it would go that way. But there’s no gain in that, either. It’s like a man who must leap a chasm to reach his heart’s desire on the other side. If he tells himself he can’t make it and never even tries, how can he gain his dream?”

“What do you want from me?” he asked hoarsely. “You want me to build a life and a family with you, knowing what could happen? I don’t think I can do that. But I don’t want you to go, either.”

She swallowed. “Then I’ll need a few days to think about this. Because if I stay, it will be forever. Maybe you can be married by halves, but I can’t.” She steadied her gaze on him. “So I have to decide if I can give up any possibility of having children, my own or someone else’s, simply because you won’t risk it.”

“And if you can’t?” he bit out.

“Then we’ll finish out your plan as before—maintain our pretend marriage until you find Nathaniel and then go to America to dissolve it.”

“I don’t want that, damn it,” he exploded. “Why can’t you just let things go on as they are?”

“Until I grow so in love with you that I can’t break away? All the while watching the years pass as I realize I never made a conscious decision to give up everything for you? The outcome will be exactly as you predict—my bitter regrets might poison any sweetness between us. I won’t take that chance.”

She started toward the door to her bedchamber, but he reached out to stay her. When he drew her back into his arms, she stiffened.

“There’s no reason you can’t share my bed in the meantime,” he murmured into her hair.

“No.” She wriggled free of his too tempting embrace. “You aren’t the only one with a heart to protect. I love you, Spencer, but I won’t let you use my love—or my enjoyment of your lovemaking—to bend me to your will. I’ll come to your bed if I decide to stay, and not before.”

He jerked her around to face him, his eyes steely bright. “We’ll see how long you resist me when I’m actively seeking to seduce you.”

“If you so much as attempt to steal a kiss,” she threatened,
“I’ll move out of this house and into Clara’s until I’ve made my decision. Is that understood?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “All right, no kisses. For now.” He approached to tower over her, every inch of his taut, muscular frame screaming his confidence in his ability to sway her. “But only because I allow it and not for very long. Rest assured that if you dawdle about making up your mind, no one—not Blakely, not Lady Brumley, and for damned sure not Clara—will stop me from claiming you as my wife.”

“At least for a while, right?”

He glowered down at her. “I wouldn’t be the one leaving in the end.”

“How do you know? If there’s no solid promise between us, you could just as easily tire of me as I could of you. After all, you could dissolve the marriage with one little trip to America.”

“But I wouldn’t,” he protested.

“No, of course not,” she said bitterly. “You’re a man of character. I’m the one whose character is in question.”

“Devil take it, Abby—”

“You’ll have my decision in a few days.” Sick at heart, she turned toward the connecting door to her bedchamber.

“Wait!” he said when she laid her hand on the knob.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my sterility before. You had the right to hear of it while it could still do you some good. I should never have been so selfish as to ruin you for marriage to any other man when I knew I could only offer you half a marriage.”

She flashed him a wan smile. “After you, there could never be any other man. I was ruined for marriage long before you took my innocence. But I don’t regret it. So neither should you.”

Neither should you
. The words echoed painfully in Spencer’s ears as he watched her walk out of his bedchamber for what might be the last time.

That awful thought stole the breath from his lungs and the joy from his soul. If she didn’t decide to stay, he honestly didn’t know what he would do. Life would mean nothing to him without her here. But how could he meet her terms?

Devil take her bloody stubbornness and talk of risk.
He
was the one who had to live every day with the knowledge of his inability to produce children. What did she know of risk?

She came halfway around the world to be with you on the word of your lying brother and a few paltry letters. She tried to make herself into what she thought you wanted. And even though you made her no promises, she came to your bed, knowing it would ruin her for any other man
.

All right, so perhaps she did know something about risk. But she was too young to realize how time could wear on a person, remind her of things she’d missed, make her regret her choices…

The way Dora had regretted hers.

Bloody hell, this wasn’t only about Dora. All women wanted children, or at least all the ones he knew.

A woman of character stands by her choices
.

Yes, but would Abby stand by hers? The urge to have babes of one’s own was powerful. Why else were all his friends procreating like rabbits?

Returning to his bed, he swore at the sight of her virgin blood staining the golden counterpane. To hell with her lofty ideas about risk and marriage. No matter what her decision, he had to keep her here long enough to show her the wonderful life they could have together.

At least she’d said she wouldn’t leave until he found Nat. That would buy him time to convince her. In fact, the more time that passed without Nat’s being found…

A slow smile crossed his lips. Abby wouldn’t be leaving him anytime soon, not if he could help it.

Chapter 22

In certain situations, servants should be seen and not heard.

Suggestions for the Stoic Servant

E
arly in the evening on Monday, only two days after the night Abby and Spencer had made love, a knock came at the door of Abby’s bedchamber while she was in her dressing room, drying off from her bath.

“Mrs. Graham, would you answer that?” she called out. “It’s probably Marguerite with my gown.”

“About time, too,” Mrs. Graham said from the other room. “Dinner’s in an hour.”

Abby heard the door open and the murmur of conversation, but she never heard the door close. Curious, she donned her wrapper and strolled out into her bedchamber. No one was there. Had Mrs. Graham gone to check on the gown? If so, she was being terribly lax—she’d left the door ajar.

Rubbing the towel through her hair, Abby strode up to close it, then stood transfixed by the amazing sight that appeared through the crack.

Heavenly day. Mr. McFee and Mrs. Graham, locked in an intimate embrace.

She really shouldn’t spy. But didn’t she have a right to know what went on with her own servant? Someone had to look out for the woman’s interests, after all. Although, judging from the passionate kiss he was bestowing on Mrs. Graham, the butler himself aspired to that position. Or was it their first such encounter?

Holding her breath, Abby peered through the crack. When after a moment Mr. McFee actually slid his hand down to squeeze Mrs. Graham’s ample bottom, Abby nearly bit her tongue through while trying to hold back her laugh.

Definitely not the couple’s first kiss. Or else the butler was awfully forward for a man of his reserve.

“That’s enough of your tomfoolery, Arthur,” Abby heard Mrs. Graham murmur. “Now go on and scribble in that notebook of yours. Plenty of time for the other business tonight when we can be private.”

Abby jerked back from the door, but not before she heard him say, “I’m counting the moments, lass.”

Vaulting across the room, Abby settled herself before the fire to dry her hair just in time. Mrs. Graham walked in and blinked to see her mistress sitting there with her brush and comb. “Oh, done bathing already, are you?”

Abby had to fight back her smile. “Yes. Where’s Marguerite?”

“It wasn’t her.” A faint flush spread over the woman’s cheeks as she turned away. “It was only one of the other servants, bringing something from his lordship for you.” Mrs. Graham came over to hand Abby a small velvet case.

All thought of Mrs. Graham and Mr. McFee vanished as Abby opened it. Her heart caught in her throat. “Heavenly day,” she whispered as she drew out a jewel-encrusted vinaigrette pendant.

“Look at that engraving,” Mrs. Graham said in awe. “And the chain, my lady, the chain! Why, it’s got to be gold.”

“It could be bronze chased in gold.” Nonetheless, the gems on the little container looked suspiciously costly. She tamped down her ready delight. Trust Spencer to find the perfect gift to tempt her.

Taking the vinaigrette, Mrs. Graham examined it with a shrewd eye. “Aye, it’s gold, all right. And I’m near to certain these is emeralds. His lordship asked me this afternoon what gown you’d be wearing for dinner, and I told him the green one. No doubt that’s why he sent Mr. McFee…er…that is, the servant up with this.”

Abby frowned. That wasn’t the only reason. “Spencer is the most infuriating, manipulative, and arrogant male to ever drive his wife purposely insane.” She thrust the case at Mrs. Graham. “I know why he sent it.”

“Because he’s courting you.”

“Trying to seduce me is more like it.” She worked her comb through her tangled hair. “That’s why he ‘accidentally’ brushed my fingers every time he handed me a hymnal at church yesterday. And why he’s always touching my arm in the carriage when he reaches to open or close the window.” He hadn’t violated their agreement once by trying to kiss her. No, his seductions were more subtle. But every bit as effective.

She’d actually caressed her own breasts in bed last night and imagined it was Spencer’s hand on them. For shame!

“This isn’t mere seduction, love—these are emeralds. They must cost a fortune.” She removed something from the case and held it out to Abby. “At least read the note.”

With a sigh, Abby took it and read aloud, “To my lovely wife, for the next time you faint in my arms. This belonged to my mother.” Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, the man is wickedly clever. He knew if he bought me jewels I’d accuse him of trying to buy my affections. So instead he finds an appropriate gift that’s not only costly but belonged to his own mother—”
She swiped away her tears. “He means to persuade me I’m part of the family now. Even if I’m not.”

“You could be.” Mrs. Graham reverently returned the pendant to its case. “If you weren’t so stubborn.”

Abby bit back the impulse to tell Mrs. Graham the whole sordid tale. She’d already told the woman that his lordship had asked her to stay as his wife, but she hadn’t explained why she balked at accepting his offer, other than to complain about his faults of character. Going into detail would mean revealing Spencer’s secret, which she had no right to do. Especially when her servant was about as discreet as a signpost.

When Mrs. Graham set the case in Abby’s lap, Abby wanted to scream. “You only support his lordship’s suit because you want to stay in England yourself,” Abby said bitterly, “so you can be with your Mr. McFee.”

Mrs. Graham gaped at her. Then her eyes narrowed. “Spying on us, were you?”

“It’s not like the two of you tried very hard to hide what you were doing.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Mrs. Graham pouted. “A little harmless kissing is all. I think I got a right to that after all my years of service.”

Feeling instantly contrite, Abby reached over to pat her arm. “Of course you do. Don’t mind my grumbling. I’m pleased you’ve found somebody after all these years, really I am. But don’t let your own happiness blind you to the truth about Spencer. If I stay married to his overbearing lordship, he’ll order me around from dawn to dusk.”

“Most men do. A sensible woman just ignores their jabbering. She nods and says, ‘Of course, my love, whatever you want,’ then does as she pleases.”

Unfortunately, doing as she pleased wasn’t an option for Abby. She couldn’t make Spencer adopt children or take a risk. He had to decide for himself to do those things. Which he would never do.

Because that would mean his trusting something—someone—beyond his control. “I don’t fancy a union where my husband is always trying to control me.” Abby tossed down the comb to pick up her brush. “And that’s what marriage to Spencer would be like.”

Mrs. Graham took the brush from Abby’s hands and dragged it soothingly through her hair. “Can you blame the man for trying to control things after the life he’s had?”

Abby caught her breath. Could Mrs. Graham know of Spencer’s sterility? Surely not. Spencer said he’d never told anyone. “What do you mean?”

“He’s had nothing but tragedy, poor man, and all of it beyond his power to stop. His mother died when he was still a lad. Then his father took a wife—too young a wife, if you ask me—and they commenced to be miserable. His lordship finds his own place in the army and is making something of himself when his oldest brother dies. Now he’s the heir, whether he wants to be or not. So even though he’s got a career he likes—if Mr. McFee is to be believed—he’s expected to put it aside.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No, by then he’d started fighting the fates. First thing he did after his brother died was become a spymaster.”

“You knew about that?”

“I did.” Moving around to the front of the chair, Mrs. Graham urged Abby’s head forward so she could brush the hair out from underneath. “Arthur…I mean, Mr. McFee…knows all about his lordship. Been with the Law family since the boy was in leading strings. Saw it all—the stepmother running off and the father dying of shame over it.” She brushed harder. “One more thing his lordship couldn’t prevent.”

Not to mention the accident that happened about that time and ended all of Spencer’s hopes for children. The woman did have a point—what a lot of tragedy for one man to suffer.