Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Luke watched her run, skirts in one hand, the other still over her mouth.

He set off after her, not sure why fish stew was such a problem. The moment she'd passed the footman, she veered right, toward a large fern at the end of the hall. Ducking behind the fronds, he heard the retching before he reached her. Stepping behind the plant he squeezed into the tight spot along with her.

She had both hands on the large pot, her body heaving from the effort.

Reaching down, he wrapped one hand under her chest and the other under her forehead to support her weight, which wasn't all that much, as she emptied her stomach.

He knew she was done when she went limp in his arms.

"Oh sweetheart," he lifted her until her back was to his chest and he kissed her temple. "You really aren't feeling well."

"I'm so embarrassed," she gasped, giving a small shudder.

He quirked a smile, knowing that tonight he'd be bringing her home and tucking her in her bed… alone. He ought to mind, but somehow, it only delayed the anticipation of bedding her again.

And he found himself… worried. How long had she said she'd been ill? He straightened with her still against him, stepping out from behind the plant.

Then he swung her in his arms, striding, not to the dining room but back to the grand stair. He kept his movements smooth, not wanting to jostle her. She had her face tucked into his shoulder, her pale hand resting on the lapel of his coat. He bent down and placed another kiss on her forehead before he stopped in front of the butler who waited at the door. "Send word to Dr. Malcolm to meet me at twenty-seven Highgrove Street as soon as possible."

"Of course."

With that, he walked out into the cool night, pulling Caroline closer as he carried her into the carriage and settled her onto his lap.

"The doctor isn't necessary. I'm feeling much better now."

"Nonsense," he brushed off her words, pulling a small tin of dried mint from his pocket. "Can you tolerate some?"

"Oh yes," she answered, taking a leaf and putting it on her tongue.

"Now tell me your symptoms again, and don't leave anything out."

She nodded, sinking back into him and he wrapped her tighter in his embrace. "This is the problem with a simple affair."

"What problem is that? That I'm helping you?"

"That I'll grow to like it. To depend on it, even." She whispered into his coat.

A fair point. He brushed her hair back from her forehead, cupping her cheek again. "Tell me."

"Mostly I've just been tired," she dutifully answered.

"How long?"

"A few weeks. I sleep much longer than normal and still wake exhausted and in a fog. And then there are the smells that turn my stomach. I don't know why. I can't tolerate wine and quail eggs and…"

Fuck. An inkling of the problem tugging at his chest. His fingers slid down her neck, settling on her collarbone. "Who is your father, Caroline?"

"My father? What does that have to do with anything?"

His jaw tightened as he waited for her to answer.

She wiggled in his arms. "Baronet Summerfield. But he died when I was fifteen. My mother made the match with the earl because the man who took my father's title over wasn't that enamored with our care."

"A good match."

She shrugged. "Many thought so."

But she didn't. A fact he already understood. He danced his fingers down her arm over her bare shoulder, over the puff of her sleeve, and then circled her delicate wrist before he settled his hand on her stomach.

"Any other symptoms?"

Her mouth turned down. "I…"

"Tell me."

"I'm sure this isn't related but my breasts…" Even in the dark he could see the pink that spread over her cheeks. "They've been sore."

"Caroline." His fingers spread out on her abdomen. "I know that there has been no one before me but have you…" He paused because he already knew the answer. There had only been him.

She hadn't even been out since their tryst, he knew because he'd been actively searching for her. And even if he hadn't, he just knew. Caroline didn't make a habit of bringing men to her bed. It had been her intense attraction to him that had tempted her past her normal reserve, and that was a rare delight that only made him want her more.

Which meant, all his timelines and plans were about to take a dramatic shift. That ought to bother him far more than it did.

"Have I what?"

"Never mind," he said, kissing her forehead. "Relax against me and rest."

She did as he commanded, her body snuggling deeper into his. "You are remarkably comfortable for being so… hard."

He chuckled at that. "And you fit into me remarkably well."

She laughed at the repeat of her word. "That is remarkably fortunate."

He spread his hands out, covering even more of her body. Because Caroline was about to be his to protect.

* * *

Caroline lay in the bed as the doctor conducted the most thorough examination she'd ever experienced. Behind him, Luke stood, jacket off, arms crossed over his chest.

She'd told him multiple times that he didn't need to be here, he could return home, but he'd only stared back at her in response, doing his best impression of a statue or a centaur, granite hard and equally unmovable.

On her third attempt to get him to go, he'd simply answered, "I'm staying."

She'd not pressed further.

The doctor finally straightened, speaking not to her but to Luke. "May I speak with you in the hall, Your Grace?"

"Here is fine," Luke answered, stepping up next to her and reaching for her hand.

She appreciated him showing her the respect of hearing the news together. She'd been on her own for a few years now and likely she'd be alone for a few more. Who knew how long she'd go before she finally married? Until then, she was responsible for her own health and wellness.

Still, it was also nice that he offered his hand as they waited for the news, and she slipped her fingers into his, thinking that he was a welcome anchor just now.

The doctor gave a quick nod as he placed his tools back in his case. Then he cleared his throat.

"Congratulations are in order, my lady."

Caroline's brows drew together, and she glanced up at Luke in confusion. "Congratulations?"

His other hand came on top of hers so he held her small fingers in his two large palms. "You're with child."

Cold dread washed down her body and she gasped, starting to sit up. He squeezed her fingers, leaning close. "Relax, sweetheart."

Sweetheart? He was speaking to her like that in front of the doctor? But she stilled at the command.

Luke turned back to the doctor. "Do you know how far along?"

The doctor gave a quick nod. "Of course. I can measure the growth of her uterus with near perfect accuracy."

Luke's brows lifted as he continued to silently stare at the doctor.

The other man cleared his throat again. "Six weeks give or take a few days."

Luke's fingers laced into hers. "Thank you."

The doctor's case snapped shut. "I can make several recommendations on how to proceed."

"That won't be necessary," Luke answered.

Caroline attempted to follow the conversation, but she was hopelessly lost. Perhaps it was the shock of the news or some subtext she was missing, but she failed to understand. "Proceed?"

Luke bent over her, kissing her forehead… again. He'd done the same thing several times in the carriage. But now was not the time to ask. They had far more pressing problems. Like what she was going to do, as a widowed countess, with a baby.

Widows were allowed all sort of liberties, and provided Luke kept her secret, she had the financial means to support a child.

But she'd never marry because of this indiscretion.

And maybe that was all right. Perhaps one marriage was enough. Would Luke want to continue their affair in the early days of her pregnancy before she grew round and fat?

Likely not… she had decorated a fern with the contents of her stomach while he watched. She winced, using their joined hands to cover some of her face.

His fingers, entwined with hers, still managed to stroke her cheek. She truly appreciated his support through this meeting with the doctor. She'd be so much more afraid if she were alone receiving this news.

The doctor said his goodbyes and Luke let go of her hand to see the man out, as though he were in charge of her house, responsible for her care.

She waited in the bed, her hands threading together. Would he come back in? If he did, what might he say?

A quarter hour passed, and she felt the tension growing inside her. Did she get up to check?

Finally, the door opened again, Luke coming into the room with a tray.

"What is that?"

"Food."

"Why?" She wasn't particularly hungry, in fact, with the nerves, her stomach was churning again.

"You need your strength," he answered, setting the tray down next to the bed. "Plain bread, chicken broth, a bit of jam. Things that will give you sustenance without upsetting your stomach."

He reached for the cup of broth, holding it out to her. "Drink up. I insist."

She sighed as she took the cup from his hands, taking several sips. She had to confess, it both felt wonderful on her throat and settled her stomach.

"Your bath is coming."

"My bath?"

"I'm sure after this evening, you could use a long soak." He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Mrs. Banks is seeing to it now."

He'd spoken with her housekeeper. "I appreciate your help but?—"

"Good."

She drew in a trembling breath, attempting to decide where to start. "Luke." His name seemed as good a place as any.

"Yes?" He tugged at the knot in his cravat, removing the neck cloth. Her lips parted as she stared. He was undressing?

He shrugged off his vest and then pulled out his shirt from his breeches. She watched as he unbuckled and then tugged off his shoes.

"Are you bathing too?"

He gave her smile. "Perhaps. But either way, once we've gotten you all cleaned up, we are going to bed."

She blinked several times. "We?" Did he still mean to have their tête-à-tête tonight? Even after all that happened, her womanhood gave a throb of anticipation. Which was ridiculous. They had real problems here.

"Tomorrow we'll discuss plans. Tonight, we're going to get you the rest you need."

"Oh," she said because, honestly, she didn't know what else to say. She swallowed, clearing her throat. "You don't need to stay. Truly. I am fine?—"

"Nonsense. Now drink before your broth goes cold." She dutifully took another sip and then another until she'd drained the cup.

The door opened, the tub being dragged in as several footmen carried in bucket after bucket of water, filling the tub.

The servants left again as Luke pulled his shirt over his head, exposing the width of his shoulders, his muscles tapering down to a narrow waist.

Caroline had already removed her gown, stocking, petticoats, and corset. The doctor had examined her in just her chemise, a fact she was very aware of as the shirtless duke stood before her. Did he expect her to undress in front of him? It was one thing to do so while they were engaged in a passionate embrace, but now? Looking for anything to distract her, she latched upon the first thing that popped into her head.

"I've never asked…" She plucked at the covers. "How old are you?"

One of his brows quirked. "Eight and thirty."

"Eight and thirty?" Her hands smoothed the covers she'd been rumpling. "That's a bit older than myself."

"You are three and twenty, if I'm not mistaken." And then he pulled down the covers with a slow deliberate tug.

"How did you know…"

"You married at eighteen. Your husband died after three years, and you've been a widow for two."

"Oh. Yes. I suppose we have talked about me quite a bit with the virginity and now the…" She wasn't sure she even wanted to say the word pregnancy. He took her hands and pulled her up from the bed.

"We can add fertility to the list of things to discuss." He gave her a warm smile, the sort that completely confused her. "Now off with your chemise."

"I don't think?—"

"There is no point being shy. I'm going to see you naked often."

Her gaze snapped to his. Because of their affair? What kind of plans had he made?