CHAPTER 36

AS FAR AS PREGNANCIES go, this one wasn't so difficult. If one didn't consider the bouts of crying because she missed her baby's father. And she didn't, because she had no right to complain about that. It was part of the deal she had made. But knowing that didn't dispel the sadness. Mostly, she cried at night. In her bed. Lonely and alone with her thoughts.

When the baby started moving, she wished Gabriel was here to experience it with her. She had not realized how many things they wouldn't get to share by perpetrating this deception. She thought about writing to Gabriel every day. But what could she say? Did he even want to know about it? Maybe he was trying to forget her. Or maybe he already had.

During his Christmas visit, he didn't even kiss her. And he hadn't visited since. Or written. She knew his reasons. Agreed with them. But it still hurt. She knew Harold corresponded with him, kept him informed. And that sometimes he answered. Harold shared those letters with her. She examined each one, drinking in his words. Poring over them for any sign that he still cared. But although he always mentioned her, it was always in the most impersonal of terms; wishing her well and hoping for her health and that of the baby. The archbishop himself could have read the letters and found nothing improper.

During the day, she busied herself with the myriad tasks of running the house and estate. Harold felt better. It was as if the baby had given him a new lease on life. She had been lucky enough to be spared morning sickness and was in good health overall. So she tried to count her blessings and not think about Gabriel. Instead, she was counting the days until the house party. Because he said he would come. In a few days, she would see him.

And maybe, just maybe, she could then take her first deep breath in months.

HE HAD ARRIVED LATE last night. Almost at midnight. Long after all the other guests had arrived and retired for the night. She had retired as well, so she had not seen him yet. But just knowing he slept under the same roof, that he was just a short distance away, was enough to make her restless with excitement.

She could slip into his room... No, of course not. What kind of lust-crazed hussy did that? If he had displayed enough self-control to not seek her out last night, or the previous time he visited the abbey at Christmas, she could certainly act with the decorum befitting of a lady.

Oh, but it was so hard! She ached with the need to feel his arms around her. Just an embrace. She needed to draw from his strength to carry her through the rest of this pregnancy and all that would come afterwards. And she knew troubled times were ahead.

Neil Blackwell had arrived yesterday as well. Harold had felt it was necessary to invite him. To let him know in unequivocal terms that this baby was his own, and that if the child was male, Neil would not be the heir anymore.

The meeting had been as unpleasant as one could have imagined. Harold had tried to spare her from it, but she had insisted on being present when the duke spoke with his nephew. Mr. Blackwell had not been pleased, even though the duke had assured him that even if he didn't inherit the title, he would bequeath him a smaller estate and a good portion to live on. The rage and malevolence had radiated from him. She suspected nothing less than the title and all the power that came with it would suffice for him. And that worried her.

Between her yearning for Gabriel and the worry about her husband's nephew, she had slept in fits and starts. It was barely past five in the morning, but the sun was already rising. The day had started, and despite her tiredness, she would not sleep any more.

In a few hours, all her guests would be up. There would be activities to oversee, people to entertain, a full day of talking, walking, and managing, followed by an evening of music and dancing. She felt utterly drained and overwhelmed at the mere thought of it. If only the house party could be over already. She understood Harold's reasons for planning the party but wished everyone would just go away. Everyone except Gabriel, that is.

Suddenly, the house felt suffocating. The burdens, the responsibilities, the worry. She needed fresh air. Needed a moment to herself before having to entertain and cater to dozens of people.

She rang for her maid and selected a morning gown, not one of the elegant ones she would wear later, but a simple, comfortable gown with a high-waisted bodice to better accommodate her growing belly.

Fifteen minutes later, she was cutting through the gardens toward her folly. She had stopped riding months ago. Even before she knew for sure she was pregnant. Better to avoid any risk to the baby. But she loved these early morning walks instead. She had started them as soon as the weather permitted.

She did not expect to find anyone up and about this early in the morning. Well, if she was being honest, she had hoped to meet Gabriel. He was an early riser, and the memory of their encounters in the folly that long time ago had her face heating, and it had nothing to do with the brisk walk. It was their special place. The folly's walls carried the imprint of his presence. Sometimes, when she visited, it was almost as if she could feel him.

She heard steps behind her, the crunching of twigs under boots. She turned around with a smile, expecting to see him. But her heart plummeted to the bottom of her feet when she saw not the beloved figure of Gabriel, but the contemptuous face of Neil Blackwell.

Fear followed quick after the disappointment. She was very aware of their isolation in a wooded area, somewhat removed from the house. If she screamed, would someone hear her? Her hand went to her belly. An instinctive gesture of protection. But she wished she hadn't when it called his attention to her midsection. A corner of his mouth lifted in contempt.

She quivered with an overwhelming sense of unease. She was in danger and scrambled to think of a way out of this situation. She settled on authority. She was the mistress of this house, and she refused to be cowed in her own home. Lifting her chin, she spoke in her most ducal tone.

"Good morning, Mr. Blackwell. I did not expect to find someone about this early in the morning."

He sneered. "Clearly you didn't expect to find me, but I'm sure you planned to meet someone."

She lifted an eyebrow. Taking a step back when he moved closer. "I'm sure I don't understand your meaning. I take a constitutional walk every morning."

"You think you are so clever, don't you?" he snarled. All semblance of civility dropped from his face like a discarded mask.

She took another involuntary step back. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's clear you took a lover," he said with a contemptuous gaze towards her belly. "The only question is, are you duping my uncle as well, or is he your accomplice in this farce to cheat me out of my rightful inheritance? Either way, you will not get away with it."

His words cut all the more deeply because they were so close to the truth. But she was very aware of the danger. She had to extricate herself from this situation.

His eyes were flat, full of hatred and... determination? She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain, concocting some malevolent plan to get rid of her, or her baby. The one helpless being who stood between him and a considerable title and fortune.

She fought to conceal the fear and felt gratified when her voice emerged steady. "You are mistaken. This is no farce. And this baby is the duke's—"

"Shut up, you cunt!" He leaped. Too quickly for her to get out of harm.

His hand struck out and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back while his other hand twisted her arm behind her. She yelped in helplessness and considered screaming before he hissed in her ear.

"Go ahead and scream. I'll toss your skirts up and take you before anybody shows up. When they arrive, I'll tell them you and I are lovers. And that I'm the father of your child. Either way, the title will be mine."

Hannah forgot her fear as a wave of rage thundered through her. She kicked back, struggled with all her might. She would not allow him to make good on his threat. He twisted her arm further. A sharp pain stabbed at her shoulder, forcing her to relent and bite back a whimper.

"That plan would never work," she informed him through clenched teeth. "I'll tell everyone the truth. That you raped me. That you are not the father of my child. I'll have you thrown in jail!"

His laugh was evil, contemptuous. "And who do you think they will believe? Me, a respectable gentleman, or the whore who is conveniently pregnant now that her decrepit husband is about to kick the bucket?"

"Me, the wife who has been faithful and loyal to her husband for fifteen years of a happy marriage, who has never given cause for gossip."

He gave her hair another pull to hiss in her ear. "You presumptuous bitch. Always putting on airs. I look forward to bringing you down from your pedestal–"

"Unhand the duchess."

The order, uttered in a voice so commanding it did not need to shout to be obeyed, washed over Hannah in a wave of relief so profound that she almost sobbed with it.

Gabriel.

He had come, after all. All would be well now.