One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)(110)

Her eyes told him her answer, long before her lips could form the words.

“I’m sorry. I must go to him this morning.”

The alarms in his brain muted, one by one, leaving only a low, mournful bugled dirge: It’s what you deserve, you witless fool. Now she’s leaving you. This morning.

It was nearly morning, wasn’t it? Faint light seeped into the room, illuminating the sweet, familiar features of her face. God, she’d always been so lovely at daybreak. Even that very first morning, in the carriage. He’d decided then and there to marry her, claim her, make her his own. And somewhere between that dawn and this one, he’d grown to love her best when she clearly belonged to herself. It just wasn’t in him to force her to stay. He wanted her willing, or not at all.

Dawn might be breaking over the river bluff, but a dark, endless night loomed inside Spencer’s soul. He stared down at the crescents of blood and grit beneath his fingernails, the milky white quarter-moons of hers.

She said, “You should take Claudia home to Braxton Hall. She ought to be seen by her physician, for one thing. But more than that, she needs comfort and guidance. The girl needs you, Spencer.”

“But …” Oh, hell. He should just say it. “But I need you. I’ve no idea what to do with her, or even how to talk to her about such a thing.”

She gave him a wry smile. “You’re a man of frightening intelligence. I have faith in you to figure it out.” She reached for the papers on the desk and furled them into a scroll, but not before he recognized them as the still-unsigned purchase agreement for Briarbank. “I’ll be taking these with me.”

He blinked furiously. “I see.”

Yes. In the light of morning, it all was too painfully clear. When her feelings for him clashed against her obligations to family … the d’Orsay pride would win out every time. She would tend to her brother’s needs before his. She wouldn’t allow her family cottage to become theirs. And by refusing to share her, Spencer had driven her away. He’d forced her to choose between her husband and her family, and now he must abide by her choice. No matter how much it hurt.

And damn, did it hurt. As he shifted his weight from one knee to the other, his ribs gave a sharp twinge.

Her gaze fell to their hands as she continued, “There is one thing more I must tell you. I suspect I, too, am with child.”

“Oh, God. Oh, Amelia.” Never had words filled him with such bright joy and such utter misery at the same time. The image of her body swelled with his child, the thought of cradling their infant in his arms … it was like a small star had burned through the atmosphere and blazed a trail straight for his heart. He wanted a family with her as he’d never wanted anything in his life, and nothing should have made him happier than this news. But at the same time, his own arrogant words came back to haunt him. I give you security; you give me an heir. She was leaving him this morning, and she carried within her the perfect excuse to never come back.

Spencer said a fervent prayer to God for a girl.

“Are you well?” he asked, swallowing hard. “Is there anything you—”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, smiling a little at her belly. “Very fit indeed. D’Orsay women are built for breeding, you know. Sturdy.”

Before he could grasp a few of the thousand adjectives that described her with far greater justice than “sturdy,” her gaze slanted away.

“You never finished your game,” she said.

He followed her gaze to the desktop. Atop the blotter, their cards and wagers lay untouched, frozen in time. In the center were his note for twenty thousand pounds and two of the Stud Club tokens: Rhys’s and Leo’s. Bellamy had never laid his token down, and Spencer never had the opportunity to fetch the remaining seven from upstairs.

Not that it mattered anymore.

He rose to his feet slowly, feeling aches in muscles he hadn’t known he’d strained. He suspected his injuries would take turns announcing their presence over the course of the next few days. As he took a step, pain shot through his ribs, and he grimaced, leaning one hand on the desk for support.

“God’s mercy, Spencer.” She was at his side. “What’s happened to you?”

With morning light filtering into the room, she was no doubt noting the abrasions on his skin, the gore spattering his boots, the shredded cuff of his sleeve.

“Took a fall,” he said, drawing a painful breath. “I’ve broken a rib or two, I think.”

“I’ll send for the doctor immediately. Are you cut somewhere? There’s so much blood …”

“It’s not mine.”

She didn’t ask for an explanation. Unfortunately. He could have deflected a question, but this damn endearing patient silence thing she always did … he had no defense to that.

“I was on Juno,” he said quickly, wanting to have it out and over with. “On the way back from Lydney she stepped in a hole and fell. Threw me clear of her, fortunately. I could have been banged up far worse. But her leg was broken, in more than one place. She was in a great deal of pain. No way to get her back here for treatment, and even if there was, she’d have been completely lamed, so …”

“Oh, no.” Her voice broke. “You had to shoot her.”

His eyes burned as he confirmed her suspicions with a nod.