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He frowned, and she saw he finally registered her distress. He was usually so quick to pick up on her slightest reaction, but practical matters distracted him this afternoon.
“What’s wrong?” He pressed another kiss to her tense fingers. “Don’t worry, mo gradh. You’ll like the castle. It looks out to sea and has acres of gardens for you to devastate.”
She couldn’t summon a smile. Not when her world crumbled around her. “Yes,” she said blankly.
He paused, studying her with a puzzled expression. She couldn’t doubt she had his complete attention now.
“And the castle is closer to medical attention if you need it,” he said slowly.
That startled her out of her dazed misery. “I’m not sick. I’m never sick.”
He smiled as if he were the happiest man in the world. “No, but you may already carry my child.”
Wrenching her hand from his, she struggled to her feet. She spun around to face him with her back to the fireplace. She shivered with such cold that she hardly noticed the warmth of the flames.
“No. No, that’s not possible.”
His dark blue eyes remained steady. “I’d say it’s more than possible.”
She sucked in a deep breath to calm her agitation. “You don’t understand. I’m barren.”
It was foolish to be ashamed to admit something she’d accepted for so long, yet ashamed she was.
“You can’t know that,” he said evenly.
She curled her hands at her sides so hard that the nails bit into her palms. “Yes, I can. Even when they use preventatives, women get caught. I’ve slept with men since I was fifteen. I’m twenty-eight and I’ve never conceived.” At first, her infertility had seemed a blessing, but as the years had passed, she’d come to abhor her unnatural state. “I…I still took precautions, but more from habit than necessity.”
“You’re guessing,” he said firmly.
“It’s fairly certain,” she returned with equal firmness.
He rose to stand in front of her. Thank God, he didn’t touch her. She couldn’t bear it if he touched her now. Her determination to leave him was shaky enough as it was.
“Verity, Sir Eldreth was well past his first vigor. Mallory, from what I gather, wasn’t ardent in his attentions. You and I were always careful in London. We’ve been both passionate and careless in this house.” His eyes were alight with joy. “A happy arrival next spring is indeed likely.”
Was it true? Could Kylemore’s child already grow inside her?
She hadn’t had her monthly flow in weeks. But then, her cycle had always been erratic.
Oh, let it be so! She’d give anything to feel his child move within her. She’d lavish on his son or daughter all the love that his own childhood had so cruelly lacked.
He went on as if he hadn’t just shattered one of the certainties she’d based her life upon. “I don’t want you trapped here in the middle of winter if something goes wrong.”
The heart that had surged with hope sank back to misery.
If by some miracle she had his baby, she’d have to raise the infant without him, because the possibility of pregnancy did nothing to change their essential dilemma. It merely added cruel spice to her anguish.
She struggled to hide the extent of her devastation. Once she might have succeeded. Now, she doubted she’d fool him.
But she had to try. For his sake, she had to try.
She took another deep breath. “I’m not coming to Kylemore Castle.”
He didn’t immediately understand. Why should he?
“Would you rather go somewhere else? I have other houses. Or we could travel. Or return to London, if you like.”
Heavens, this was difficult. She moistened dry lips. “No, I’ll return to my brother at Whitby. For the moment, at least.”
