Lady Evelyn hadbeen quite correct about Kirkston Place being nice and welcoming. Of course, after traveling with a sullen, infuriating, hardheaded husband, Merry would just as happily have settled in the slums of St. Giles Rookery.
Amos, Lady Evelyn’s black cat, had taken a liking to her over the weeks since her arrival, and Merry welcomed the company. After all, she could tell the loyal feline anything she wished and knew her secrets would be safe. Today, she had taken refuge in the conservatory, hoping to find a bit of peace for her aching heart. But while she wandered through an abundance of palms, myrtle, pomegranates, and several varieties of orange and lemon trees, the peace she sought appeared to be in sadly short supply.
Disheartened about losing the battle against her insistent melancholy, she gave up on meandering any farther and sagged down onto a bench shielded by a screen of delicate orchids. With an approving purr that sounded more like a happy chirrup, Amos jumped into her lap and settled down, kneading the folds of her gown as if making biscuits.
“When the weather warms enough for my finer silk and muslin gowns, we must discuss the use of your claws, sir,” she told the cat. “You will snag my skirts.”
The golden-eyed feline simply purred louder and worked his fluffy paws faster as if she hadn’t said a word.
“Typical male. Ignores a woman and does whatever he wants.” But she scratched behind his ears and under his chin. It wasn’t Amos’s fault she was in such a mood.
“What did my son do, lass?” Lady Evelyn stepped out from behind an enormous cluster of ferns. “Tell me so I might help ye.”
Desperate to share her woeful tale with someone other than the cat, her maid, or her unmarried sister, who had been no help at all, Merry patted the spot beside her. “Have a seat and take your cat. He is determined to use his claws.”
The dowager flounced down beside her, fluffing her full black skirts that weren’t quite the current style. “Amos is one of the reasons I still wear black.” She winked as her long-haired pet hopped over onto her lap, curled into a contented ball of purring, and closed his eyes. “The cat hair matches the shade of my clothes.”
“One of the reasons?” Merry had wondered about the dowager’s choice of dark apparel.
“My Catherine.” Lady Evelyn pulled in a deep breath and released it with a heavy sigh. “I will forever mourn my precious daughter and the grandchild I never knew.” Then she smiled and gave Merry an affectionate pat. “That is why we must repair this rift between yerself and Duncan. We need the sound of wee ones in this house.”
It was time for his mother to know the truth. Merry couldn’t bear dashing the kind lady’s hopes, but she had to be told. “Duncan refuses to father children, Lady Evelyn.”
“What?”
While Merry didn’t wish to go into crude detail, she wondered if Duncan’s own mother might possess some sound advice on changing his mind. “He says bearing children is too dangerous. Therefore, he will not…” She cleared her throat, struggling to word things just so. “He will not properly complete the act and risk fathering a child. And since he failed to inform me of his feelings on the matter untilafterwe took our vows, he is no longer welcome in my bed.”
The dowager closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead as if stricken with a sudden pain. “Heaven help my poor boy.”
“I know his history, and I understand his fears, but this is not reasonable. One cannot protect someone from every possible danger that exists in this world.” Merry pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself not to cry. Too many useless tears had already been shed for this lost cause. “I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I am miserable, and he seems to be miserable too.”
“I am sure he is.” Lady Evelyn stroked the black cat’s head, ran her hand down his sleek back, then gently tugged on his fluffy tail. “And the bad thing about Duncan is that once he sets his mind a certain way, I dinna ken if we can ever change it.”
“He is simply not reasonable about this.” Merry hugged herself. “I don’t wish to lose him to anything ill either, but one simply cannot live one’s life with constant thoughts ofoh my goodness, what if.” Trying to rock away her misery, she slowly shook her head. “I love him, Lady Evelyn, but I am at a loss as to how to change his mind on this.”
“Seduce him.”
“He will simply do what he did on our wedding night.” Merry pushed herself up from the bench and paced like her brother always did when frustrated with a seemingly unsolvable problem. She gave her mother-in-law a stern look. “And I will not tolerate that. I told him he could not return to my bed until he was willing to love me fully and without fear.”
“His fears are founded,” Lady Evelyn said. “His father ripped away anything that gave him any happiness, and then fate stole away his beloved sister. As twins, they always shared a special bond. Catherine could always make him smile.” She gently put Amos onto the bench and rose to pace beside Merry. “He once described you as the shining star that beat back the terrors of his darkness. He needs ye, lass. Needsyer understanding.”
Before Merry could argue, the dowager lifted a hand and stopped her. “I am not saying to go back on yer word. His deceiving ye was not acceptable. I am just asking that ye give him time…and kindness. Make him yearn for more, long for the completeness that can be his if he could only find the courage to embrace it.”
“I will be kind to him, but I will not give in.” Merry found her mother-in-law’s advice disappointing. She had hoped for more.
“That is all I ask, child. Try to be patient.”
Merry snorted such a loud huff that Amos lifted his head and glared at her. “Patience is not one of my virtues.”
Lady Evelyn laughed as she turned and started down the pathway leading to the exit. “It never was one of mine either, lass, but ye learn as ye age. Will ye be coming with me to the parlor for tea, then?”
“No, thank you. I need a bit of a walk, and with the rain, the conservatory is the perfect place for me and my moodiness right now.”
“As ye wish.” The dowager continued on her way, her black skirts swishing with every step.
Merry wandered deeper among the citrus trees, reaching up to run her hand through the smooth, glossy leaves. What a mess her life was. “I wish you were here, Mama. You would know what to do.”
As the youngest of eight and only ten and five when Mama—and then six months later, Papa—had passed, Merry hardly remembered a time when Mama hadn’t known what to do about any situation that arose. Papa had always bragged that Mama had a unique way of looking at things, which always made things better. How would Mama look at this bumble broth?
