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“We will have this last night.” He stated huskily. “For memory’s sake.”
Silently, she turned to him and they kissed. They sought each other in the night as if this was the last hours of their lives. In a way, it was. Apart, they’d die a little every day.
After Philip fell asleep, tears rolled down Selene’s cheeks abundant and sorrowful. She cried herself to sleep. She awoke next morning his vacant, cold place by her side. A frosty bed would be her companion from now on. He was gone, by her own doing. The morning chill spread over her skin, presaging the rest of her life. She lay there for a long time, without energy to go out of bed. His manly smell still clung to her skin as much as the torrid images of the night. She’d have to get on with her life one way or the other. It’d be heavily difficult. She inhaled deeply. First things first. Tea. Bath. A walk along the seashore. Small tasks would carry her through the day. Days. Years.
Chapter 18
A few days later it started. At first, she thought it food poisoning. It wouldn’t go away, persisting tenaciously. Selene felt awful. Sick to her stomach endlessly.
Humbly, Nell commented. “Your Grace might be with child.”
Selene blanched, even more than her present pallor. She looked at her lady’s maid bewildered.
Nell lowered her head. “I remember it a long time since Your Grace’s bleeding.” As the lady’s maid took care of all her clothes, including her monthly cloths.
Selene didn’t have much information on these things. She’d been married for a short time. Not enough that other women would confide in her on such subjects. She’d been a virgin on top of that, understanding little of what she heard.
“How so, Nell?” The girl would be her only source of information.
“When women are with child, the monthly bleedings stop and they become sick in the stomach for a couple of months.”
“Oh, dear!” She sat on her bed dizzy.
“Your Grace has to send for His Grace.” Of course, Nell knew whose child it was.
Selene darted her eyes to the girl. “No!” Vehement. “You’re not to talk of this with anybody! Understand?”
“Yes, Your Grace. But you will need to call a doctor eventually. It will start showing soon enough.”
Selene nodded. “Yes, I know. Keep quiet until I have decided what to do.”
“Very well, Your Grace.” She curtsied and left.
As the door closed, Selene placed a hand on her abdomen. Scary and fascinating, she thought. His child, for her to love and treasure. She smiled dreamily, as tears moistened her eyes. Love. It downed naturally on her. She’d fallen in love with the devil of her duke. No, not hers, pitifully. How blind could she be? It’d been there, under her nose all this time! A love that had carved deep roots in her heart. So strong and intense. The things she’d done with him, for him borne of her feelings. Giving herself to him had been part of it. The expression, the token of her heart. She felt it blazing. It’d nurture the child she carried. She wrapped her arms about herself. She could not give this love to him. She’d offer it to the little being growing in her instead.
Philip stood by the dance floor, glittering couples twirling around. It only made him remember the scarce two waltzes he danced with her. The Roman temple and what followed. The gallery and… Damn it! He had to stop thinking of her. He had to stop missing her. Stop loving her! He had to find someone else. She rejected him several times in several ways. The last, the most painful. Since then he’d had no sleep, no food, no life. He wandered in Parliament, in his club, in social events as if he wasn’t there. Absent. Aloof. Bleak. He had to get out of this state of mind. He had to focus on his duties. He had to carry on.
The gossips, the murmurs, the stares. He noticed every one of them. He didn’t care. It made no difference. His reputation mattered because he had to find someone to marry, bear heirs. The mere thought of laying a finger on any woman but her churned his guts. He spent his nights in a fever for her, only her. The idea of seeking so
lace with someone else felt so disgusting it nauseated him.
Lord Pendleton came to stop by his side. “Crompton.” He greeted.
“Pendleton.” Philip devolved.
“The dowager Duchess is not in town, I hear.” The others went around the subject a little longer. Not Pendleton.
“No.” He continued looking at the dance floor. “She’s traveling the continent.” He lied for the thousandth time.
“Oh, so the rumours are true.” The older man also kept his casual attention on the couples.
“No doubt.” Philip took a glass of champagne from a passing footman and drank a large swig of it.
“Perhaps you’d like to come for dinner next week.”
Direct attack. Lady Emily had a hard team at her disposal. “I’d be honoured.”
“Fine. I’ll tell Lady Pendleton to send the invitation.” He nodded to the duke and walked away.
