piano and Niall and toward the bookcase. “I thought it was a stroke of luck that she fell pregnant almost immediately after we were married. It was hard enough forcing myself to bed her after knowing what true passion—” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He leaned against the bookshelf and winced. “It was bittersweet when Greta was born.”
“Greta?” Niall’s question was louder than Blake expected. Niall stalked across the room to him. “You named your firstborn child Greta?”
Blake sent him a guilty look. “It’s Margaret, actually,” he confessed. “I thought Annamarie might figure things out if I insisted we name her simply Greta.”
“Did you—” Niall flinched, his cheeks going red. “Did you name your firstborn child after me?” he asked in a rough whisper.
Blake could only answer with a miserable, sheepish look.
Niall stared at him, appearing more incredulous than flattered, so Blake pushed away from the bookcase, crossing the room to lean against the doorway into the girls’ bedroom. Their beds were still unmade from when Annamarie had whisked them away in the middle of the night, while he’d been asleep downstairs. He’d refused to let the maids touch the room.
“A girl meant we had to try again for an heir, of course,” he said, staring into the room so that he could avoid looking at Niall. “Jessie was born just over a year later.” He turned back to Niall, who had taken a few steps toward him and stood with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. “Jessica,” he clarified. “After Shakespeare. There was a miscarriage after that, and for a while after, Annamarie didn’t want me in her wing of the house, let alone her bed, thank God.”
“You lived in separate parts of the house?” Niall asked, narrowing his eyes.
Blake nodded. “My room is downstairs, just below the nursery. Annamarie has the entire south wing to herself.”
Niall’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.
“Then Father died unexpectedly, and I was left a duke at age twenty-five. I think Annamarie knew at that point I had to have an heir. We finally succeeded in that. Alan just turned five in August.” He paused, wincing, but knowing he had to spill it all. “Alan Siegfried Williamson, current Marquess of Stanley, future eighth Duke of Selby.”
Niall jerked his head away, blinking as if fighting tears, his jaw so tense Blake was certain it ached. “And she still didn’t suspect a thing?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“No.” Blake stepped cautiously closer to him. “She didn’t seem to care that I didn’t touch her once after Alan was conceived. Maybe she thought I had a mistress. She certainly had lovers after that.”
Niall snapped to look at him again, eyes wide. “And you know that for certain?”
Blake nodded. “I caught one of them sneaking out of the house in the early morning once. I should have thanked the man instead of pretending I didn’t see him.”
“Thanked him?” Niall let his arms drop. “Blake, listen to yourself. You are not a carpet to be walked all over.”
“Aren’t I?” he asked, feeling himself shrink inwardly. “Don’t I deserve to be stepped on after the way I—” He turned away, shaking his head, and marched across the room to the piano. Without sitting, he played a few bars of one of the girls’ favorite dancing songs before losing the heart for it.
“And what about you?” Niall demanded, his voice darker as he walked toward the piano. “Did you take a lover?”
Blake’s shoulders sagged and he let out a heavy breath. “Not really. There was a footman three or four years ago.” He shrugged. “When my previous valet came down with influenza, he stepped in for a week. He figured things out right away. I…I had him suck me off a few times and I returned the favor once, but….” He shook his head, feeling dirty for doing it, much less telling Niall. “I couldn’t have him in the house after that. Fortunately, he was a good man. I explained the truth of things to him, why I had to sack him. I paid him a generous stipend and helped him to get a position as a valet for a friend. He never said a thing.” Blake forced himself to face Niall. “I was only tempted because he reminded me of you,” he whispered.
Niall looked as though Blake had slapped him. It was horrible, a nightmare.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t had lovers since….” Blake swallowed hard,