A Wicked Conceit (Lady Darby Mysteries #9) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,85

myself, knowing it would be best to allow them some privacy for such a conversation no matter how much I wanted to be there to lend Gage my support. I worried that my presence would actually be more of a hindrance than a comfort, particularly once he realized I already knew. If Bree noted my distraction, she didn’t comment on it, but she did recognize that my lower back was troubling me and brought me a hot water bottle to recline in bed against.

“It’s minor,” I assured her after thanking her. Nevertheless, a sigh escaped my lips as I sank back against the warmth. “Too much dancing, I suppose.” In truth, I’d been surprised by the number of men who had asked me. And I didn’t want to examine their motives too closely. Not so long as they’d treated me with respect.

Bree passed me the book resting on my side table, her brown eyes scrutinizing me. “Ring if ye need me.”

I nodded, eager for her to depart. It was clear she thought I was about to go into labor, but I knew my body better than she did. Even though I had never given birth, I had witnessed other women doing so, in particular my sister, and Dr. Fenwick had instructed me well. I was aware of the signs to look for. These mild twinges alone indicated nothing.

Although I felt less certain when my abdomen began to tighten and release in small contractions. At first I thought it was the babe moving about inside me, and I pressed my hand to the spot, hoping to feel their tiny heel, fist, or bottom wriggling about. But it soon became evident it wasn’t that. The discovery was enough to temporarily divert me from my anxiety over the conversation happening on the floor below.

I was just about to climb from bed and walk about to see if movement would relieve the contractions when they seemed to stop. There, I reclined with my hands clasped on either side of the rounded swell of my stomach, my eyes fastened on the taut white fabric of my nightdress when the door to the dressing room opened. One look at Gage’s face told me he was still stunned, and I abandoned my own concerns to reach for him.

He crossed the room and plopped down on the edge of the opposite side of the bed, facing away from me, and I scrambled awkwardly across the counterpane to sit beside him, draping my arms around his shoulders. “Oh, darling,” I murmured, struggling to hold back the emotion clogging my throat at witnessing his pain and disenchantment.

His gaze remained trained on the rug, and for a long moment he didn’t speak, though he did shift his arm to wrap it around me loosely. I pressed my forehead to his neck, feeling the bristles of facial hair along his jaw. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, followed by a flush of anger, hot and sharp, that Lord Gage should have done this to him. To his mother.

But then I inhaled a deep breath of Gage’s skin and spicy cologne, and tempered my thoughts. What was done was done, and undoing it would only undo Henry’s existence. That was a thought too cruel. However, I did curse Lord Gage for being so bloody secretive. If he’d only told his son years ago rather than keeping it from him, some of this anguish could have been avoided. And Henry and Gage might already have established a relationship.

Every time Gage thought he had found himself on steady ground with his father, something occurred to prove it was naught but a shaky foundation. Like the parable of the foolish man who built his house upon sand. Except Gage wasn’t accountable for his father’s deception, even if he did feel like a fool every time his trust in him was revealed to be undeserved.

“How long have you known?”

The hollow tone of his voice cut me to the quick, and the tears I’d been fighting spilled down my cheeks. I knew I couldn’t lie to him, though the impulse was still there to protect him, to protect myself. “Since the day we caught Lord John,” I admitted, though forcing the words out made me feel as if I were going to vomit.

No emotion registered on his face, and he had not yet looked at me, so I made myself continue.

“I . . . I’d heard the speculation about the duchess’s younger children, and then I