The Muse (26 page)

He watched as she walked regally out of his studio, her equally regal dog following at her side.

What a lovely, lovely, creature, and it shall be heaven to paint her.

IMOGENE was dressing for dinner when she realized it.  There was no start of a child.  No baby this time.  She was disappointed and dreaded telling Graham for the embarrassment, and the failure.  The familiar cramp took hold in her abdomen.  Maybe there was something wrong with her.  They had been intimate nearly every day since the wedding and some days more than once.  What did it take to start a baby?   She knew they had to join together and she knew he had to spill his seed in her.  Well, those criteria had certainly been met, numerous times!  She needed to ask Philippa some more questions.  Maybe the timing was wrong.  They had been married for just four weeks.  That didn’t seem like very much time.  She was completely ignorant of the biology of pregnancy and further embarrassed by that ignorance.

Her appetite faltered at dinner and Graham noticed.  He noticed everything.  When he asked her about it she told him her stomach was unsettled.  She saw him frown at her reply.  He was, however, eager to hear about the meeting with Mr. Mallerton.

“It went well.  He was not so terrorizing as I thought he might have been.  I think I earned his respect today, and do not foresee any problems between us.”  She tried to ease his anxiety.  “I saw that my earlier concerns were for nothing—being alone with him in his studio.  Why did you not say Antonia was his housekeeper and that she would be there?”

“Oh, that’s right.” He frowned.  “You know,
chérie
, I honestly forgot about it.  Remember, I have been away for a long time and have to relearn this estate, in a sense.  I am glad that you have no reservations, and especially that you feel comfortable with him.  It eases me.”

“I will need to bring the emeralds and several gowns to the next sitting.  Would you like to help me select some gowns to take?  I welcome your opinion.”

“I would love to help you choose,
chérie
.”

LATER, when Imogene came to his room dressed for bed, Graham was already in it, reading a book.

She sat on the side of the bed and peeked at him through her lashes.

“You are all wrapped up like a package,” he remarked, eyeing her wrapper.  “All the better to unwrap you.”  He reached for her.

She stilled his hands.  “We must not…”

Graham froze, shocked at her denying him.  He inclined his head a little to get down to her eye level, waiting for her to speak.  When she did not, he whispered, “Are you not feeling well,
chérie
?”

She kept her head down and mumbled the words, “It is my woman’s time and we cannot…”

It took a moment for him to puzzle it out.  “Ah.  ’Tis all right,” he soothed.  He tried to get her to look at him but she kept her head down.  He knew she was not comfortable sharing such things but she looked so stiff and unhappy he couldn’t resist the question.  “Are you in pain?”

“No.”  She shook her head.  “It does not really hurt me, mostly just an inconvenience.”

“I am glad you are not hurting, and I daresay that though it will be hard, I will survive a few days without you.”  He tried to lighten her a little with some teasing. “You’ll survive it as well,
chérie
, but you’ll have to be brave as I know how difficult it is for you to keep your hands off me.”

She gave him a half-smile but it didn’t reach her eyes.  She then nodded before putting her head down again and said, “I’m sorry, I know of my duty to you and I
will
do it.”

Graham was perplexed.  “You are sorry for what?  What are you talking about—your duty to me?  I don’t understand you.”

“You know, my duty to give you a child, an heir.”

Understanding of where this conversation was going dawned and clarity finally found him.  “Hmmm.  You are disappointed you are not with child?  I now understand,
chérie
.”  He took her hand and kissed it.  “We have not talked about this and now it seems is the time to do so.  Come here and let me hold you.”  He reached for her and pulled her down next to him in the bed where he could see into her eyes to guess her thoughts and feelings.  He put a hand up to her hair and stroked it.  “Do you wish to have a baby very badly?  Is that what you want?”  He searched into her eyes again.

She seemed astonished by the question.

“Of course I want it.  I must give you an heir.  You have much to lose with holdings such as you possess.”  She looked up at him resolutely.  “It is the one thing I must do as a wife.  You have remarked upon it more than once, Graham.”

“I have?” He frowned.  “I do not think so.”  He shook his head at her.

“Yes.  Once with my uncle, when we discussed the dowry, and another time when you showed me the portrait of all the cousins as children.  You said our children would have to learn to sit for portraits.”

“Imogene,” he admonished, “I merely referred to our children as a future reality.  I am sure we will have them, most every couple does.  You are not to worry about this.  I understand that society expects it and that you bear the burden of giving me an heir, but I do not care about it at all.  I don’t care, truly.”

“You don’t?  Why don’t you?”

“Because it is not why I wanted to marry you.  I did not want you for a broodmare.  I wanted you because I wanted to live a life with you, because I love you and need you with me.”

“But you have so much to lose if I do not give you an heir, a title even.”  She seemed so amazed at his declaration, unbelieving.  “I cannot believe you.  Losing Drakenhurst was a shame for my father in having no direct male heir.  I think he was pleased in the end that Timothy would be the heir but I know he would have preferred his own son.”

Graham shook his head firmly.  “Gavandon entails differently.  It is not a worry for me in the slightest.  Even if we were to have only daughters, it wouldn’t matter because the eldest grandson could take it.  I do not plan on dying anytime soon,
chérie. 
Remember, you owe me fifty years.”  He held her close and kissed her forehead.  “Even if we had no children of our own, it would still pass to Colin and his descendants, and thus stay in the family.  Gavandon is safe.   You have nothing to worry about.”  He squeezed her a little.  “Your competitiveness has got you into a bit of turmoil, and with your family history I can understand how you might feel pressured, but please let go of the idea.”  Tickling gently, he made her squeak.  “Besides, we’ve only been working at it for a few weeks.  It might take a little longer than that.” He winked.  “And when it does happen—and it will—we will take great joy in its blessing.”

She snuggled into him.  He could feel her smiling even though he couldn’t see her face.  “I feel so much better,” she sighed.  “You are wonderful in every way.”

“Well then, since I am so wonderful, would you like to play cards for a while?” We can play right here on the bed.  What do you say?”

“All right. 
Vingt-et-un
?”

Later, after losing eight straight hands to her, Imogene could no longer hold in her giggling when he asked, “Twist or stick?”

“I think the better question for you, my darling, is to ask yourself if you can count.”  She laughed with a mocking grin, biting her lower lip and shaking her head at him.

Graham snorted at her.  “Remind me to take you around to Almack’s when we are next in Town,
chérie,
you could win us a fortune.  The male players would be so befuddled by your charm and beauty; you could destroy them with just the slightest effort on your part.”

She raised her eyes and shook her head slowly at him.  “How do you fare at the game of chess, my lord?”

“You play?  I had not thought of that,
chérie. 
A most excellent choice for me as it goes very slowly between moves and would provide ample time for me to watch you as you puzzle through your attack.  I’d like that.”

HE dreamed of the monster again.  It was the same dream—always the same—the crying, the tormenting, and the maniacal laughter.  The young mother, the child, his parents, and the evil one, were all present and accounted for.

But this time when he hurtled awake, she was in the bed next to him.

Imogene stared at him in horror.  Worry and concern showing clearly, even in the dim fire-glow.  “Darling, I think you were having a bad dream.”  She smoothed over his hair with a comforting hand.  “You were mumbling and thrashing about in the bed.  What is it?”

Hearing her gentle words brought him careening up from hell and back into reality.  He was instantly soothed by her presence and terrified by it at the same time.

What did I say?  What did she hear?

He pulled her to him and held on.  Imogene was goodness and light.  Truth and virtue.  His lifeline.  He allowed himself the soft warmth of her to comfort and ease his racing heart.

“Graham?”

“Sorry,
chérie
.  Sorry to wake you,” he murmured into her neck, holding her close.

“What were you dreaming of?”

“I—I cannot remember.”  He felt guilty for lying to her.

I hate you.  Stay away from me…and from her, you evil bastard.

“YOU cannot mean to leave us here.  We’ve nothing!”  Agnes cried in panic, holding her sleeping daughter.