Seven Years to Sin(76)
Hester’s pent-up breath left her in a rush. “My marriage is no longer a happy one.”
“Oh, Hester.” Jess’s heart broke. “What happened? Did you fight? Can it be salvaged?”
“I once hoped so. Maybe it would be possible if I was stronger, like you. My weakness angers him.”
“You are not weak.”
“Yes, I am. When Father turned his wrath to me and you interceded, I let you. I was grateful you were taking the switch and not me.” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “So damned grateful.”
“You were a c-child.” Jess’s voice cracked with unshed tears. “You were wise to allow me to intercede. It would have been foolish to do otherwise.”
“Perhaps, but courageous, too.” Hester’s eyes were giant verdant pools in her pale face. The rouge she wore to feign a healthy glow was incongruous against her bloodless skin, making her appear like a caricature of a bewigged and powdered peeress from times gone by. “I need that courage now, and I don’t know where to find it.”
“I will help,” Jess vowed, squeezing her sister’s fingers gently. “We shall find it together. As for Regmont, I’m certain he must be worried sick about you, as I am. Once he sees you regaining your strength, your relationship will improve. It’s natural for a woman to experience moodiness and melancholia while increasing, but that might be difficult for a man to grasp. We will just have to educate him.”
Hester smiled and cupped Jess’s cheek. “I’m so sorry you cannot have children, Jess. You would be so good with them. Far better than I.”
“Nonsense. You will be a doting mother, and I shall be a very proud aunt.”
“Your betrothed loves you very much.”
“I think he does,” Jess agreed, laying her cheek against Hester’s knee. “He cannot seem to bring himself to say it aloud, but I feel it when he touches me. I hear it in his voice when he speaks to me.”
“Of course he adores you, and his desire is unquestionable.” Hester’s cool fingers stroked Jess’s brow. “You will be the envy of every woman in England. Alistair Caulfield is rich, breathtakingly handsome, and mad for you. Toss in the dukedom and there isn’t a woman alive who would not kill to trade places with you.”
Jess lifted her head, laughing. “Your dreams are too lofty. He’ll never inherit the title.”
Hester blinked. Then, her eyes widened with something akin to horror. “Dear God … You don’t know, do you?”
Chapter 21
Alistair paced before the grate in the family parlor of the Masterson residence in Town, his sleekly polished Hessians treading silently across the oriental rug. His fingers were laced at the small of his back, his hands tingling from the strain of his white-knuckled clasp. “Smallpox.”
“Yes.” His mother’s voice was soft with anguish. Louisa, the Duchess of Masterson, sat on a carved wooden chair with her back painfully straight. Her hair remained as dark as Alistair’s, the glossy tresses unmarred by any gray, but her lovely face betrayed both her age and the agony of outliving three of her four sons. The portrait of her above the mantel was taller and wider than Alistair’s height, and it served as the focal point of the room. Her younger self smiled down at anyone occupying the expansive space, her blue eyes naively clear of the many tragedies yet to come.
Alistair had no notion of what to say. All three of his brothers were dead, and grief weighted his heart like a heavy, oppressive stone. Of equal burden was the title he now bore, a distinction he’d never coveted. “I don’t want this,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me how to get out.”
“There is no way out.”
He looked at her. Masterson was at home, but she dealt with this impossible situation alone because her beloved husband couldn’t face the bastard who would now bear his exalted title.
“He could denounce me,” Alistair suggested, “which would open an avenue for a relative to inherit.”
“Alistair …” She lifted a handkerchief to her mouth and sobbed, the wretched sound tearing through his innards like claws.
“He cannot even face me. He must want a way out as well.”
“If there was an alternative he could live with, yes. But he will not be a cuckold or shame me, and the next in line to inherit is a distant cousin whose worth is questionable.”
“I do not want this,” he said again, stomach churning. Alistair wanted a life of travel and adventure with Jessica. He wanted to bring her joy and challenges, and the freedom to erase the oppression of her youth with an adulthood that was boundless.
“You will be one of the wealthiest men in England now—”
“By God, I won’t touch a shilling of Masterson’s precious coin,” he bit out, his blood boiling at the mere suggestion. “You have no notion of the things I’ve done to be solvent. He gave me scant assistance when I most needed it. I damned well won’t take anything from him now!”
Louisa rose, her hands twisting in her kerchief. Tears coursed unchecked down her hollowed cheeks. “What would you have me do? I cannot regret your birth. I would not go back and give you up. To have you in my life I had to risk this, and Masterson took that risk for me. With me. We made the decision together, and we will abide by it.”