During the next few weeks, Clarice did her very best to stay busy enough to keep all thoughts of Roman at bay. She went out to the shops on Bond Street and ordered some new clothes, nothing overly bright or flashy, but she decided that she needed more than just the grays and lavenders of half-mourning. Would the world come to an end if she occasionally wore a few shades of green or blue?
The widows would not care, and she’d realized that except for Natalia’s family, whom she hardly ever saw, those were her true friends. For too much of her life, she’d worried so much about what people would think. Well, life was entirely too short for that.
She’d pined so much for the glamorous balls and activities of the Season, but now she understood that a small gathering of the Widows was much more to her liking. When she’d been right at the center of the social whirl, she’d often felt exhausted and overwhelmed. She could actually remember being quite bored at even the largest balls of the Season, exchanging painfully polite nonsense with people she really didn’t care for.
With the Widows, she’d found that she could actually be herself. The conversations were sometimes shockingly lively, other times deep and meaningful. But she always left those meetings feeling better about herself and the world.
With that in mind, she put all her energy into arranging a small gathering for some of the Widows she’d grown closest to. It would be her first time entertaining since the duke’s death, and also the first time she’d invited anyone to her new home.
Unfortunately, in the days leading up to the event, she woke up feeling terrible, casting up her accounts almost as soon as she got out of bed. This went on for several days, and she considered canceling the event, but each day, after she went back to bed for an hour or two, she felt fine in the afternoon.
On the day of the party, she once again woke up nauseous, but after she’d thrown up and was wiping her mouth, she realized that it had been three weeks since her night with Roman, and five weeks since her last flow.
The thought made her cast up her accounts once again, but as soon as she was feeling better, she ran to look at the calendar on her desk.
She’d gotten into the habit of marking down her monthlies years ago and had continued it long after the reason for doing so had passed. But yes....
It had actually been nearly six weeks since she’d last menstruated.
Her hand went to her belly almost of its own volition.
Could it be?
She sank into her desk chair, staring blankly at the calendar as she replayed everything that had happened when Roman had finally made love to her. It had felt so much different than when the duke had done it. Even then, she’d had the passing thought that what she’d done with the duke had been... different. He’d never been that... hard. She hadn’t been able to feel him within her as deeply as she had Roman.
Was it possible it had been the duke’s fault all along? Had he lost his ability to father a child in his advanced age but been too proud to admit it?
A wave of rage consumed her.
That bastard! How could he do that to me? How could he make me believe it was my fault? That I was damaged in some terrible, irrevocable way?
He’d even gotten the doctor to tell her it was her fault. But then again, what doctor would tell a duke that he was impotent?
The anger left her as quickly as it had come, and she placed her hand upon her belly, her eyes filling with happy tears. She was going to have a baby. Roman’s baby!
For several long, thrilling moments, she let herself imagine it. A boy with Roman’s dark hair and blue eyes. Or perhaps a girl with her own white-blond hair.
Then came the absolutely terrifying realization that she was a widow. She couldn’t just produce her lover’s child and expect society not to turn its backs on her.
A hysterical laugh escaped her as she remembered she’d just been congratulating herself on not caring what society thought. Well, it appeared that would soon be put to the test. Would even the Widows remain in her corner once the news got out?
The rioting emotions had her head spinning, and she tried to force herself to calm down. She didn’t even know for certain that she was actually pregnant. She needed to find out for sure before she made any plans. Her monthly flow might have been just late.
Taking a deep breath, she penned a note asking her doctor—not the one the duke had insisted upon—to come and see her as soon as possible and then sent it off with a footman. She’d worry about all that tomorrow. Tonight, her closest friends were coming over to celebrate her new life.
But as she went about the last-minute preparations for the party, she couldn’t help but think about it all. She’d wanted a child so desperately for so long, but did she want it at the expense of her short-lived freedom? And what about Roman? Would he be happy to find out that he was going to be a father? Would he still be interested in having a family with her? Or had she pushed him away forever?
ROMAN BIDED HIS TIME over the next few weeks as Collette had suggested, but everything inside him rebelled against it. He wanted nothing more than to go to Clarice and force her to listen to him, swear to her that all he wanted was her. But even he knew that as long as he was in this frame of mind, it was best to stay away. The last thing he wanted was to make things even worse. And he’d known Clarice long enough to know that he could never force her to do anything.
What he really wanted was for her to come to him. To tell him she was sorry for driving him away. That she loved him as much as he loved her.
But in his heart, he feared that was the real problem. Perhaps she simply didn’t love him. Not enough to take a chance. Not enough to be his wife whether children were in the picture or not.
NEARLY A MONTH HAD passed when his butler informed him that he had a visitor. When he passed over Clarice’s calling card, Roman’s heart leapt in his chest. “Show her in,” he said, pushing to his feet and pacing nervously behind his desk.
He was afraid to read too much into this, but surely it had to mean something. Perhaps Collette had been right. Maybe she’d just needed a little time.
When the butler returned with Clarice, she met his gaze uncertainly as the butler backed out and shut the door.
