One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(36)

His thoughts drifted to Aurora. Jane was not so impulsive, not a creature ruled by passion. For a moment, he had forgotten, feeling only as he had at Vauxhall, determined to have, to possess the woman for which his blood burned.

He couldn't understand it. Two women. Two desperate hungers. It had been years since he felt this way for one woman. What was he doing feeling this way for two?

Dropping his hand from his face, he vowed that he would leave Jane alone. He would concentrate his efforts on securing his bride… and attend every masquerade ball he could in hopes of finding Aurora again—a woman upon whom he could freely unleash his baser passions.





Chapter 16


Jane opened her eyes to bare slits. Morning sunlight stabbed her sensitive eyes and she flung the backs of her hands over her face, blocking the rude intrusion.

Too late. Darkness did nothing to help, did not offer the safe haven she sought. Nausea washed over her in violent waves, forcing her to move. Vaulting from her bed, she lunged for the washbasin. Gripping the sides with her hands, she emptied the contents of her stomach. Shuddering from head to toe, she retched in misery, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Her stomach had been unsettled for days. Since the morning after Lucy's musicale.

"Third morning you woke up puking your guts," Berthe, the maid Desmond had assigned her, spoke from her side, her voice a grating scrape on the morning air.

Jane jerked, startled. She had not heard the maid enter the room. But it had always been that way with Berthe. Ever since Jane had first come into the Guthrie household, the maid had been there, always near, glaring, watching, smirking, letting Jane know that she knew Marcus. And even worse, that Marcus knew her.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Jane frowned at the woman Desmond had forced on her, wanting to shout at her to leave the room, the house, her life, once and for all. She had attempted to dismiss her while Marcus lived, but he had put a stop to that, declaring that Berthe served his needs. In ways Jane did not.

"Leave me," she commanded in a shaky voice, giving no thought to courtesy when addressing the woman who had sneered at her for so long. "I can dress myself."

"Very well." Berthe nodded and turned for the door. Hand on the latch, she stopped. "You're certain you don't want me to send for the physician?"

"That won't be necessary."

"Perhaps Cook then?" Berthe's eyes glinted with dark humor. "She's a marvel at home remedies… especially for what's ailing you."

An icy finger trailed Jane's spine as she shoved away from the basin. "And what might that be, Berthe?"

Blinking in mock innocence, Berthe replied, "Why you're breeding." Her stomach pitched again, dropping to her bare feet before heaving back up. Pressing a hand to her belly in an attempt to still the violent reaction, she ground out, "That's not possible. You're mistaken."

Berthe cocked her head sideways. "Not about this, I'm not. I was one of thirteen children. I can tell when a woman's breeding." Her dark eyes raked Jane. "I suspected as much, so I questioned the laundress. You're well overdue for your courses."

That Berthe should be the one to reveal something so intimate, something Jane should have realized herself—made her cheeks catch fire. "You're mistaken," she repeated, denial surging to life within her. Her mind worked, feverishly counting the days, grasping that the impossible was suddenly… possible.

Berthe shrugged. "Time will tell soon enough."

Head swirling, stomach churning, Jane dove for the basin again as Berthe left the room. Only nothing remained in her stomach. After some moments, she lifted her head, panting, stomach and throat aching from the strain. Unsteady on her feet, she sank to the floor, her nightgown pooling around her like a milky puddle. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she huddled into a small ball, rocking slightly, shaking like a brittle branch in winter's peak. A child. She carried a child. Seth's child. Horror and delight battled within her, churning her stomach into a queasy froth. A child. Someone to love. Someone who could love her back. For years she had longed for a baby, had thought herself barren. She squeezed herself tighter, elation bubbling inside her chest. Then she remembered herself. She was no well-married lady in a position to bring a child into the world. Once word leaked, she would be ruined. Then what kind of life would her child have?

Berthe knew. As did the laundress. No doubt the servants were whispering about her below stairs even now. Soon Desmond and Chloris would know.

The desperate thoughts brought to her feet. She dressed herself, barely taking the time to pull her hair into a knot at the base of her head. She must act quickly.

Foolish as it seemed, one face emerged. Seth should not be the visage her heart leapt upon, yet there he was nonetheless. In her mind. In her heart. Shaking her head, she called herself ten kinds of fool.

She had only one destination in mind. Hopefully, a solution would reveal itself with the consul of her friends.

A chill blew through her heart when she imagined telling Seth the truth. That she was Aurora. That she carried his child. Burning moisture filled her eyes. Impossible. She could never bring herself to do such a thing.

"You know you must tell him."

Jane stared grimly into Lucy's blue-gray eyes. Beside her, Astrid nodded, the motion slight, reluctant, but in agreement nonetheless.