“Or it may take no time at all.” The hollowness in her tone prickled at him.
“You are concerned.” His tone was more accusing than he meant it to be.
“What makes you say that?” She looked startled.
“I would have thought that as the eldest of eight, you would be eager for children.” His tone getting an edge in spiteof himself, the disappointment in his stomach at her seeming reticence making him querulous.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t.” He couldn’t mistake the defensive note in hers.
“You’re not. I can tell,” he insisted, even as he wanted to drag the words back, return to the peace and congeniality of their previous conversation.
She sighed and he flinched internally.She doesn’t want my children.He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. After what they had just shared, the knowledge cut him to the quick.
He flung the bedclothes back and got up. They were arguing again.How could they go from that level of affinity to this in no time at all?His chest ached.
He picked up his dressing gown and shrugged it on, tying the belt with a jerk. Disappointment, hurt, chewed at him.He felt like crying, for fuck’s sake! He hadn’t cried since his father died.
“Good morning,” he said stiffly and headed for the door to his room. He didn’t slam the door because he wasn’t that petty, but the harmony he had felt with her earlier was in tatters and the pain of loss ached like the devil.Why, oh why, did this happen every time they got close? Was it her? Was it him?
It was while his valet was shaving him that it hit him. He had a fixed idea of what happiness looked like, and Sarah refused to fit into the picture. Every time she said or did something that didn’t fit, it hurt. And when he was hurt, he lashed out in some fashion. Which made him feel even worse for being nasty towardher. He seemed determined to push her away, despite his avowed desire to bring her closer.
If I keep this up, she will loathe me, and very rightly so.
*
Sarah watched thedoor snap shut behind him and gasped for breath. She felt flattened.What had happened?
But she knew what had happened. Her face had betrayed her. When he saidan heir,she had been reminded of the terms of their marriage of convenience and the shadowy Madeleine, a lurking darkness between them. It wasn’t that she didn’t want his children. God help her, she would adore having his children. But her reaction had told him otherwise.
What could she possibly say to explain her peculiar reaction without revealing the real cause? The prospect of motherhood on top of all her duchess dutieswasa little daunting. Perhaps she could make more of that, use that as an excuse for her hesitancy? It was weak, but what else could she say? She couldn’t tax him about his relationship to Madeleine—Daphne had made that very clear. She wiped tears from her cheeks and flung back the bedclothes.
She would find a way to apologize, reassure him that she did indeed want his children. The idea that she had hurt him in that way made her heart ache.
But by the time she came downstairs, the duke had left the breakfast parlor, and she learned he had gone riding with his cronies. She sat and forced down some tea and toast and then went to consult with Mrs. Jardin, the housekeeper, on the orders for the day. She was the duchess now, and she needed to behave like one.
*
When he gotback from his ride, Robert went in search of Sarah. He had spent the ride thinking about their conversation and realized that he hadn’t asked why she’d reacted the way she had. He had jumped to conclusions, put the worst construction on her reaction, and taken immediate umbrage. Even worse, he hadbehaved rudely, walking out on her. He needed to apologize for his bad manners and find a way to restore harmony between them. If he let this fester, it would just grow worse, and the notion of being at outs with her was unbearable.
He found her supervising a game of croquet for the children with Miss Pringle on the south lawn. She wore a broad-brimmed hat to protect her face from the sun and a simple but tasteful white muslin gown. She was always well dressed, he reflected, watching her through the drawing room window.
The adult guests were taking tea on the front terrace, and he ought to be with them, but he needed to apologize to Sarah first for his appalling behavior this morning. Opening the drawing room French windows, he stepped out onto the lawn and made his way round the croquet field to her side.
“Which team is winning?” he asked, coming to a stop beside her.
She glanced at him and returned her gaze to the field. “Mary’s team is leading by one point, but I believe Heather’s team will steal a march on them soon.”
The two eldest girls were heading each team of four made up of the younger ones, except little Ewen, who was curled up asleep on Miss Pringle’s lap. At only three, he was too young to play and would have made the numbers uneven in any case.
“Shouldn’t you be with our guests?” she said, crossing her arms.Hostile or defensive?His chest ached; hehadto fix this.
“Yes, but I wanted to speak with you.”
She made no response to that, and he said softly, “I wish to apologize for my rudeness this morning.”
She stiffened. “It is of no matter, Your Grace. In fact, it is I who should apologize.” She turned to face him. “I led you to believe that I did not want children,” she said softly. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I do. I just—” she stopped and swallowed, blinking rapidly, and his heart contracted to see herdistress. He stepped toward her, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I just need a little time to adjust to my circumstances,” she finished.
“Really?” His heart lifted and softened. He seized her arm and pulled her through the gap in the hedge that ran around three sides of the field.
