Miss Winters Proposes (12 page)

Nonsense. She had one for certain. The second, however, remained lifeless in her hands.

Mr. Meadowcroft studied her face. “Is there something amiss?”

“I fear, that is to say, the pup is—”

“Dead.” Benjamin stood beside her, his face stricken with panic. “It does not move.”

Her mind doing its best to steady her nerves, Juliet nodded. ”I’m afraid this one was not born alive.”

Benjamin let out a curse, his thick hands rubbing the top of his hair. “I should have known,” he muttered. He sank to his knees and set a trembling hand on Artemis’s head.

“Should have known what? There is no way to predict the outcome of the litter.” Juliet set the limp body in Mr. Meadowcroft’s outstretched hands so she might reassure her husband. “Stillborn pups are a common enough appearance. One pup does not determine the health of the remaining pups.”

Although it certainly sent a warning. Juliet stared down at the copious amount of blood splattered across the floor. While birth was not a clean or tidy process, it was not usually this…bloody. Or quick.

Something was wrong.

Juliet knelt down beside Artemis and ran her hands over the bitch’s swollen sides. Everything felt as it should, tight and contracted, readying for another pup, but none were dropping, which meant there was likely a blockage of some sort, a pup caught on his way out.

Lifting the hound’s tail, Juliet assessed the precarious situation, her hand manipulating the dam’s underside, while her eyes took in the massive amount of blood spilling out the poor creature’s rear end.

Artemis labored, her breathing shallow as she lowered herself to the floor.

“Lady Colwyn?” Fear replaced the excitement that had earlier lit Mr. Meadowcroft’s eyes.

Benjamin stared down at his bitch. “Juliet. Is all well?”

“I—I…no.” Juliet stood and stared at the two men.

“My father,” she choked. “I need my father. His assistance is required. Tell him it is urgent…and Artemis is in danger.” Her hands trembled, despite her best attempts at keeping them still. Benjamin was watching. She needed to stay calm for him.

“Jesus,” Benjamin whispered. “Is she…?”

“I don’t know.” Juliet kneeled beside the dam. “She is not progressing as she should. The blood…”

Mr. Meadowcroft took off through the double doors.

Juliet stared after him. “My father will know what to do.” He had arrived at Darlington the night prior for Yuletide revelries. He was to stay one more evening before returning home…but he found comfort in the familiar and it was not unusual for him to return early from entertainments. She could only hope he had not left…and was not too deep in his cups…

Benjamin moved beside her, his large hand stroking the dam’s head. “Is there anything that can be done?” he asked, his voice hitching. “I need her, Juliet. I need her pups. Mr. Lightwood specifically stated he wanted two of Artemis’s litter. Only hers. And two. Two.” He held up two trembling fingers.

Juliet ran a tongue over her parched lips. “Why two?” She lifted her gaze to her husband. To display Benjamin’s capabilities in breeding hounds? To prove he had the knowledge and skills required to succeed in a world of competitive breeders, each set on making names for themselves?

“Mr. Lightwood requested one for himself and one for his nephew. In order to make the placement and receive full payment I require two. From Artemis.” He ran a hand over his dam, his voice breaking. “She is my friend, Juliet. Without her I—”

Artemis whimpered, the small cry causing Benjamin to cradle the dam’s head in his lap. “There, there,” he whispered. “I’m here, girl. I’m here.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Juliet was well aware Artemis was more than his hound, she was his friend, and should she die on Juliet’s watch…after she had promised him all would be well…because after all, had she not boasted of her experience?

She was a fine fool. And one who was lost outside of her element. Never in all her life had she borne witness to such a complication…

Juliet placed a hand atop Benjamin’s. “Surely Mr. Lightwood can be recompensed. My dowry enables you access to my hounds. We can offer a pup of his choosing from the next litter.”

A hollow laugh sounded low in his throat. Benjamin gently lowered Artemis’s head and sat back, his forehead coming to rest on his knee. “Mr. Lightwood favored Artemis’s personality and line. He was not interested in pups from other hounds, but hers specifically. And it’s no wonder. She is a magnificent creature, a true and loyal companion.” He lifted his head and stared down at his suffering dam. “I do not see another whelping in Artemis’s future—if she has a future at all.”

“But surely Mr. Lightwood can see reason. While Artemis is desirable, my hounds—”

“The same hounds you profess to know how to breed? From a kennel you hope to back with funding from my name and line? Both which will lose accreditation because my dam is unwell and only able to produce one pup?”

Juliet pulled back her hand, his cutting words and biting tone slicing through her. More so, because they held truth. She was not as skilled as she believed herself to be—and for that, she could offer no excuse other than the admission of the truth.

“I am knowledgeable in hound breeding. I have simply never experienced this…this large amount of blood loss.” Grabbing up a clean linen, she sought to stop up the flow and assist the dam in any way she could. “My dams take a little bit more time between their deliveries. But they also carry larger litters. Artemis is…”

The dam panted, her tongue lolling to the side, her eyes rolling backward. “No, no, no,” Juliet whispered. She rubbed the hound, rousing the dam from potential slumber and threats of death.

Benjamin covered his mouth with his fist, his other hand stroking Artemis’s chin.

“Benjamin, I—”

Her father rushed into the room, Mr. Meadowcroft a few steps behind him. “What in heaven’s name happened?”

“The blood. She whelped two pups and then…” Juliet’s voice garbled in her throat.

Her father put his hand on Artemis’s sides, his eyes wide as he took in the messy, bloodied scene. “She is hemorrhaging. With at least two more pups inside.” He held out his hand for a cloth, which Juliet gave him, her red handprints coloring the white linen.

“I—I don’t know what happened.” Salty tears found their way down her cheeks. “She was fine one moment and then…”

Her father placed a hand on hers. “You’ve done well, my dear. There is nothing you could have done differently. But you’re upset, and in no state to aid me. Go. Lie down. A servant will bring you a cup of something strong to settle your nerves. Lord Colwyn and Mr. Meadowcroft will assist me.”

“But—” Never before had she not seen a whelping through to the end. It was her job to clean the dam, to attach the pups for suckling. She and her father had a system, a fine-tuned routine they had honed through years of practice and experience.

“Juliet, please. You are overwrought. You’ve done well; now rest and calm your nerves.” Her father’s pleading voice echoed in the small changing room

She stared at her father, hunched over Artemis. She sought Mr. Meadowcroft and then Benjamin. Neither looked her way.

Juliet stood, backing her way out of the corner, reaching for another towel. “Benjamin, I—”

“I think it would be best if you heeded your father’s request.” His body was rigid, his face tense. She reached for him, hoping to calm his addled nerves, but he stepped away from her, avoiding her touch.

Fear gripped her heart, its icy tendrils shocking her into a chilly state of denial. This couldn’t be happening. Artemis would recover through her father’s skilled administrations and Benjamin would join her in bed, comforting her with his embrace and soothing away the day’s complications with his kisses.

“Mr. Meadowcroft, another cloth, please.” Her father’s snowy-white head dipped, his hands busy with the task of saving Artemis.

“Father, I am sor—”

“I know, child. Now, go. And rest.”

Juliet once again sought her husband’s comfort, his assurance this horrible event would turn out well in her father’s competent hands, but Benjamin averted his gaze, and crossed his arms tight against his chest.

Fighting back a sob, she clenched her skirts and ran from the room.

…

Benjamin sat with his head between his knees, fighting back the sorrow and heartache threatening to once again overwhelm him.

Oh, hell. Who was he fooling? It already burned, the fire of pain wrought by yet another potential loss ripping through his heart with a ferocity that left him numb.

Artemis was near death. And were it not for Lord Roughton’s care and administrations, her lone pup would be in a similar state.

His most loyal of all companions was on the verge of death, and his heart ached with the threat of her loss.

But Artemis’s fate in no way compared to that of his wife’s.

A wife who had been unable to fill her promises. He had trusted in her abilities. In her assurances that all would be well.

But she had been wrong. All was not well. It was hellish. And he had behaved foolishly for believing in her. In himself. Believing everything would go as it should. When had things ever run their due course? He was a third son turned viscount, for Christ’s sake. A man whose first wife had died in the early stages of childbirth.

And now he was a hound breeder with one pup and a dam who would likely never whelp again. If she even survived the night.

He yearned for the comfort of his hound. Of Artemis’s tongue lapping at his face. Of her long tail whipping back and forth in excitement at his arrival.

But most of all, he wished for things to be as they had been before this present nightmare. When Artemis’s health was not in question. And Juliet was beside him, her smile warming his insides and making him near forget the pain and sorrows of the past.

Which was utter foolishness. He should have known better. He should have known not to open his heart. He’d become weak. Susceptible to the pain wrenched by a loss so great he felt the urge to vomit.

Watching Artemis lay on the floor in her blood, while fear-inducing in its own right, further served to remind him of what he stood to lose: Juliet.

The image was seared into the cervices of his mind, for he had only to retrieve first Amelia’s deathly pallor, then Henry’s blood-filled mouth and Philip’s bone-rattling cough to recall with absolute clarity what fate would likely befall his wife should illness ravage her body, or worse, his seed were to render her lifeless in the throes of childbirth.

Somehow he had grown too attached. He had lost his heart to Juliet. He had allowed himself to forget the past and to think only of the future.

But Artemis and her wretched state reminded him.

He could not stand to lose Juliet. It would be far less difficult to live apart than to live with her death. Juliet had to leave. Before he lost her. Before his own selfish desires left her with child.

He would never forgive himself should she die while bearing his offspring. To hell with his responsibility to his father’s line. Juliet came first. Which meant Juliet had to leave.

Lord Roughton touched his shoulder, his weary face and sad eyes staring down at him. “I had your cook bring up another round of goat’s milk. The pup needs to be fed every two hours. I will see to him this evening. You should go to Juliet.”

Benjamin’s jaw clenched. He had seen his wife leave, her face frantic, her cheeks wet with tears. He could not even look at her, so distraught, so upset by the present circumstances he did not dare look in her direction for fear he might actually succumb to the comfort she promised. Their separation was for her benefit. For her livelihood.

He had to distance himself from her.

He shrugged off Lord Roughton’s hand. “No. I wish to stay here. With Artemis.”

“But Juliet requires—”

“What she does and does not require is none of your concern. The pup. Artemis. They require our attention.” He hated himself for his harsh words and cold tone. But it had to be done. Juliet’s future depended upon it.

Lord Roughton pursed his lips but nodded, his white-colored hair slipping into his eyes. He lifted a tiny, white, liver spotted pup out of a bundle of woolen blankets and placed it into Benjamin’s hands.

With a trembling sigh, Benjamin dipped his finger into the milk and allowed the protective barrier Juliet had torn down with her impish smiles, to be rebuilt. Brick by solid and impenetrable brick.

Chapter Thirteen

Juliet’s fingers found their way to her mouth, her teeth gnawing the tips raw in the darkness of her husband’s chambers.

She was exhausted, drained, worn to a frazzled mess of nerves and raw emotions, existing in a horrified state of shock and disbelief. She had nothing left to give, and yet, sleep eluded her, the need to comfort her husband, to apologize for her inexperience, compelling her to sit upright on Benjamin’s bed waiting for his inevitable arrival.

He couldn’t stay away forever. While she knew he possessed an almost ethereal appearance, he was mortal, same as her, and required sleep. Surely he had to succumb to his body’s need for slumber.

And when he did, she would be here. Waiting. Desperate to right her wrong. To return things as they had been before her mistake, before Artemis had whelped and the majority of the pups had…passed.

The creak of a hinge had her gaze searching, peering through the darkness toward the source of the sound. The trim outline of her husband took shape, his body hunching while he removed his clothing.

She shifted on the bed, the small motion enough to draw his attention, his head lifting at the sound. “Juliet.”

His voice was hoarse and raw, as though he had been sobbing. She reached for him in the darkness, her heart yearning to comfort him, to soothe his suffering…a suffering she had wrought with her own hands.

“Benjamin, I am so sorry for—”

“I do not want to hear your practiced words of contrition.”

Tears stung at the edges of her eyes and what was left of her nails dug into the palms of her hands. His anger was to be expected. But it still hurt, still sliced through her worse than any needle or knife.

“I assure you my apology is nothing less than sincere.”

“And I assure you I am in no mood to hear whatever words you have spent the past hours piecing together to appease your guilt.”

Her breath caught at his harsh tone, the tears no longer stinging but sliding down her cheeks and dampening her nightshift. “Please, allow me to expl—”

“I am tired. Upset. And beyond the threshold of conversation. I wish to retire.”

“And…and Artemis? Is she…”

“She is alive, if only just.”

Juliet glanced down at the rumpled linens and patted them with her hand. “I have kept—”

“I wish to retire alone. Without you.” Heartache colored his words, his obvious pain filling the void of the room. To know she was the cause of his anguish—that she was the one who made him grieve, tore through her, ripping her heart to pieces.

Juliet’s lips rolled between her teeth, the metallic tang of blood sharp on her tongue. “Perhaps we can speak of this tomorrow then. After we’ve both had some time—”

“I don’t need time, Juliet. I need my bloody damn dog and her pup to live through the night.”

The obscenity rang in her ears, but not loud enough to cover the frigid tone in which it was spoken.

She blinked, her vision blurred by tears. “I cannot begin to—”

“I no longer desire to be in your presence. I need you to leave, Juliet. Now.”

Juliet inhaled through quivering lips, the air having little relief on the burn engulfing her chest.

He wanted her to leave.

He no longer wanted her here. With him.

Perhaps his interest had never been in her at all. He had despaired over the loss of the pups, yes, but so, too, the financial gain attributed to their delivery. Was it possible he only ever needed her for her hounds and the promised money they could produce for him after he established himself as a breeder in his own right?

A means to an end.

Her stomach twisting, she stood and made her way to the door. If her departure was what he wished, she would leave. For Evenrood. First thing in the morning.

…

Juliet sat in the dim light of dawn, her shoulders hunched forward, her hair loose about her shoulders. She wiped her mouth, her hands still trembling from her morning bout of retching. She glanced down at the refuse in her chamber pot, her stomach once again turning from the events of the evening past.

She had heard the anger in his voice. The blame cast in her direction when he had deigned to even speak to her at all.

Benjamin held her responsible for Artemis’s injured state.

And that he held every right to that claim made her sick to her stomach.

A soft knock had her head lifting. Juliet snatched up the glass beside her and swished out her mouth. Was it possible Benjamin had come to see her? To forgive her for her inexperience? To seek comfort in his grief? To retract his command for her departure?

Or had he come to spew his displeasure she had waited this long before leaving?

After all, she was no longer needed. Her assistance was no longer required. He was more than capable of assuming the necessary tasks required for the pup’s survival.

She was nothing but a reminder of his loss.

Juliet draped a towel over her mess. “Yes?”

A dark head popped into the room, but it was not the short-cropped one belonging to her husband that entered, rather the plaited curls of his sister.

“How are you, my dear?” She reached for Juliet. “I came as soon as I was informed.”

Indeed, the woman looked as if she had just risen from bed. Her mussed hair and rumpled nightdress, barely covered with a robe, attested to her expeditious arrival. But why had the woman felt compelled to come at all?

“Benjamin is not here.”

Eleanor gave a small smile. “If I had wanted to see my brother, I would have gone to his chambers. I did not come to see him, but you.”

“But why?”

“Because even though Artemis and her pup still live, I had a sense you might be afflicted with guilt.” Eleanor clasped Juliet’s hand, squeezing it between her smooth fingers.

Indeed she was. Juliet had every right to feel awful, burdened with the knowledge she had failed her husband. She had been unable to keep her promises. She had broken his trust. And while a measure of relief surged through her at the news of Artemis’s health, her guilt was not assuaged.

“I am. It is a sentiment well earned.” She pulled her hands from Eleanor’s. She did not want this woman’s pity. She had ample stores of her own.

“But not deserved. You are not God. You can no more take credit for her injury than you can for her offspring’s birth.”

“It is because of my incompetence Benjamin has only one pup and an ailing dam, madam. The fault is mine and mine alone.”

“Mr. Meadowcroft and I do not hold you to such a claim. You can hardly be held responsible for Artemis’s complication. You were simply there when she fell ill.”

Juliet pushed off the bed and stood. “Her blood is on my hands, quite literally, I assure you. Even now, after washing, her life source still lingers on my skin.” She held out her hands for the woman’s inspection.

Only to have her grasp them in her own. “Her whelping was tragic, to be sure, but let us give thanks it was not you who took injury. Should harm come to you or the child you might possibly carry…”

Juliet’s breath caught. She once again pulled her hands out from Eleanor’s. “It is too soon.”

Eleanor’s gaze fell to the covered chamber pot at Juliet’s feet. “Be that as it may, I take it my brother has not considered the possibility you may carry his child.”

“No.” Her hand reflexively rested on her stomach. “And any opportunity to express such concerns has passed.”

Eleanor shook her head, her dark brows furrowing together. “You must not allow last evening’s tragedy to come between you and Benjamin. My brother can be determined, but he is—”

“Upset with me. And most justified in his anger. If he chooses to hear my apologies, to hear me ask for his forgiveness, then perhaps, with time, and when I myself know with absolute certainty, I might divulge my condition. But until then, I think it best I allow him his sorrow.” Juliet stalked toward her trousseau and threw the first gown she touched on the bed. The need to depart from this place—a place that only served to remind her of what she once had and had now lost…of her failures and incompetence—was suddenly overwhelming.

“But should he not be made aware of even the possibility you might carry his child, he may be led to make decisions he will come to regret. Most ardently. You cannot leave. Not now.”

“He asked me to leave, madam. I am simply complying with his request.”

“Please, give him some more time. I am certain he will come to regret his words.”

“You know his past,” Juliet whispered. “The pain he has endured at the loss of not only his brothers, but his wife and child.”

Eleanor gave a reluctant nod. “Yes.”

“Should I be with child, you know as well as I, the idea I might come to the same fate as Artemis, or worse, Amelia, would ruin him. At least until it is proven true, and both the child and I are healthy and well.”

Juliet straightened her shoulders. She had seen the anguish on her husband’s face, had heard the sting of loss in his voice, the vehemence with which his words were spoken. He could not bear to be in the same room with her, let alone the same house.

She had, after all, tricked him into marriage, an arrangement he had agreed to out of pity, to protect her from her cousin. Now that it was all done, she needn’t burden him any longer.

No. She would not stay here, where vivid memories of past gaiety lurked in every corner. “I have trunks to pack and a departure to organize, Mrs. Meadowcroft. I wish to be left alone.”

Eleanor’s face saddened, her eyes reflecting the pain that engulfed Juliet’s heart. “Please know should you wish to seek companionship, or solace, I am at your service. You need only ask.”

Juliet closed her eyes and nodded. Eleanor was not to whom she wished to flee for solace, but Benjamin. With his thick, muscular arms wrapping around her, shielding her from the pain, the disappointment, and the failure.

The click of the door signaling Eleanor’s departure came as the first tear rolled down Juliet’s cheek. She was alone.

And in more ways than one.