A Wicked Kind of Husband - Mia Vincy Page 0,115

himself from an unwanted illegitimate boy to a wealthy, powerful industrialist. To become a country gentleman would be a betrayal of himself. Birmingham was not a place: It was his identity, his heart and mind.

Trying to make him stay with her would be like trying to stop the sun from rising.

And so she lied to him.

She said nothing about her missing monthly courses, or the nausea, fatigue, and sore breasts, and he did not seem to notice. She told herself it was not a lie, not really: It was too soon to be sure. Even after she spoke of it to Mama and to the midwife and to a friend, she did not mention it to him. To think she had once believed that if she had a child, she could dispense with the husband! Now guilt mixed with dread, and her tongue was tied, for as soon as she uttered the words, he would leap to his feet and say, “Excellent. My work here is done.”

Yet he had made her a promise, and she had to tell him. How cruel this was: To have the child she longed for meant losing the husband she loved. She had never felt so torn in her life.

But maybe, just maybe, if she asked him to stay with her, maybe, just maybe, he would. Maybe this child would hold them together.

If we have a child, it is your child, not mine. I want nothing to do with any of it.

Or maybe not.

In her darker moments, she thought it would be better once he was gone. At least then she would be free of this dread, which was worse than nausea and fatigue, for the dread fought with hope and their tussles clawed at her. At least then her heart would be broken all at once, rather than breaking a little more each day.

On a sunny morning, nearly a week after her conversation with the midwife, Cassandra was sitting in the bay window of her ground-floor parlor, sewing her secret and arguing with herself, when she glanced up to see Joshua striding through the garden toward her window, his coat hooked over one shoulder.

Every part of her stilled, except her pounding heart and shaking hands. Today, she resolved. Today.

Of course, she had made that resolution every morning for several days, and each evening when she saw him, the words did not come.

But I must, she thought, her eyes eating up the sight of him, fearful it would be the last. If I cannot hold him, then I shall hold this: His face tilted up to the sun, a smile playing over his lips, a whirlwind of energy as he moved in easy, powerful strides.

Suddenly, she couldn’t bear it, but before she could hide, he spotted her sitting at the huge, open window, merely feet above him.

“Ah, fair princess!” he called, stopping and doffing his hat. “Are you occupied?”

“Nothing important.”

Clumsily, she shoved her sewing into her workbasket and forced a smile.

“Stay there, I’ll come in,” he said, turning away.

“I don’t see why you should waste time going around to the door,” she called back. “It would be more efficient simply to climb through the window.”

He grinned. This might be the last time she saw him grin. “Mrs. DeWitt, you are a genius.”

In a single bound, he leaped onto the sill, and balanced there, framed by daylight. An image of virility and strength to hold onto, to remember once he was gone.

“Oh my,” she said.

“Did I impress you? Do say I impressed you. I adore impressing you.”

“I am immensely impressed.”

She slid off the window seat, her mind on her workbasket and the papers on the table, watching as he leaped down and tossed his coat onto a chair.

“I have had the most exciting conversation with Mr. Ridley,” he said, spinning back to face her. “Together, we have been utterly brilliant. Our bridge is going to be stronger and more durable than any bridge in the history of Warwickshire. Oh, and I met Mrs. King—do you know her?”

“She’s the midwife.”

“That’s the one. I told her about that chap we met in London who thinks disease is carried by water and she says it sounds right to her, whatever the fancy doctors say. Indeed, she says she’s sick of fancy doctors telling her about things they know nothing about, like women’s bodies—I tell you, I blushed so hard.”

“You did nothing of the sort.”

“So I think I should invite this doctor down and see what he needs, because if

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