too old, and the last birth had taken its toll and damaged her womb. There would be no more children. Even Pippin had agreed it was unlikely, and had nothing to suggest except to prescribe red clover tea, which Matilda drank several times a day, knowing it was hopeless. Although she had been disappointed, having so wished to have given Lucian a little girl, she knew she had nothing at all to be disappointed about. She had given Lucian his heirs and they were her greatest pride and joy, as well as their father’s. They had been blessed indeed, and she would not be so ungrateful as to wish for more. Yet if this malaise, which had come on so gradually and worsened so steadily, was not a child, she feared to consider what it might be.
Lucian was terrified.
She could see it in his eyes, and sense it in the way he held her, touching her as though she were fragile, as though she might break. He said nothing to her, of course, only agreed that she was tired, that the boys had run her ragged, the season had been too energetic, etcetera, etcetera. Except they both knew she had never lacked for energy before, and that it was nothing of the sort.
Determined that she would not behave like some swooning heroine in a Gothic novel, she took another deep breath and made her way down the stairs.
“Goodness, what a slugabed you’ve let me turn into,” she said cheerfully as she strode into the breakfast room with a smile for her beautiful husband.
And, Lord, he was handsome still. More so, she thought, though it seemed impossible. But the past twelve years had only made him more imposing than ever. On the rare occasions he omitted to shave, she had noticed a scattering of white against the darker gold of his stubble, but there were no other visible signs of age, and he was as vigorous and vital as he had ever been. Unlike her, sadly.
“Whyever didn’t you wake me?” she asked as she closed the door.
Lucian was standing by the window, staring down at a letter. He looked up as she came in. One look at his face and her pretence of jollity fell away.
“Oh, my darling, whatever is the matter?” She rushed to him, putting her hand to his cheek.
He covered it with his own and took a deep breath.
“Phoebe,” he said shortly. “She….”
To Matilda’s astonishment, he gave a breathless laugh and shook his head.
“Oh, Lord, that girl will kill me. Except that I’m rather afraid she might kill poor Max first.”
“Max and Phoebe?” Matilda repeated, bewildered. “Lucian, if you don’t explain at once—”
Silently, he handed her the letter. Except, she saw now that there were two letters, one from Phoebe and another from Max. She moved to the breakfast table and sank into a chair to read.
“Alvanly! Oh, the villain!” she cried as she read through as quickly as she could. “Oh, Phoebe, oh, you silly goose.”
Matilda looked up, staring at Lucian.
“Thank God for Max. He’ll marry her. It will be all right.” Lucian did not look away, but said nothing, and Matilda nodded, swallowing. “If she’ll have him.”
“If she’ll have him,” he repeated dully, turning back to the window and staring at the square beyond.
“You should go after them, I suppose.”
“No.” That one word was firm and definite, and Matilda looked up, shocked.
“Lucian!”
He turned around and walked back to her, sinking to his knees before her and taking her hands. “Max is a good man. I trust him, and Phoebe is a reckless hoyden, and I should like to wring her pretty neck, but she’s not a fool. They will figure things out between them, and they do not need me poking my nose in and making things worse. If she marries him, as I pray she will, I will rejoice and wish them happy. If not, I shall support her and protect her in any way I can, but if you think I would leave you now….”
His voice quavered and he closed his mouth, his jaw rigid.
Matilda’s heart ached. If they discovered she was seriously unwell, she feared for him far more than for herself. If anything happened to her, she knew it would break him.
“Lucian, do not worry so. I’m sure once I get to Dern and have some proper rest, I will be quite well again. No doubt Pippin will have some evil concoction to force down my throat that will make me want