Chapter Thirty-Seven

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

A Fortnight Later, The Duke of Grovemont’s Town House

G emma already knew she was in trouble. Each night in bed, Lucian didn’t stop pleasuring her until she called out his name. Until tears ran from her eyes. Until she was begging him for release, and then he gave her the most intense orgasm, making her forget the one from the night before.

He was a selfless lover, a master in bed. He touched her in the right spot every time. He knew what to do to make her body sing with pleasure. What to say to make her ache with wanting. Within the first fortnight of their arrangement, she was a slave to him in bed, body and soul. She couldn’t get enough of him. How would she ever be able to leave his bed when the time came? The thought preoccupied her more and more of late.

But it was outside of bed that had her even more concerned. It had been a fortnight. Two entire weeks and Lucian was still solicitous and caring. He talked to her each morning, made love to her each night. They’d gone for walks in the park, picnics by the lake. They’d spent lazy afternoons lying in the grass, watching Oliver hop through the gardens behind the house. And they’d danced countless waltzes while staring into each other’s eyes, the entire ballroom fading away around them. It was no longer easy for Gemma to remind herself that Lucian was trying to keep her by his side. In fact, he’d all but convinced her that he wanted her there.

Which made the notion of being with child even more poignant.

Because after all of their lovemaking, she might well already be with child. And if she wasn’t, it was highly likely she would be by the time the two months were over, given the amount of time they spent in bed.

Gemma made her way down the corridor to the nursery with Oliver trotting at her feet. Mrs. Howard had briefly pointed out this room when she’d given Gemma the tour of the house last year. At the time, Gemma hadn’t paid much attention, but now she sought it out.

She placed her cold, shaking hand on the door handle and gently pushed it open. The door creaked wide, and Gemma and Oliver stepped into the large room. There was a wooden cradle, a rocking horse, and a cushioned rocking chair. She made her way to the wardrobe and opened it. All the tiny clothes were still there, lined up. She touched them gently, running her fingers over the aged cloth. Had Lucian worn these once? It was difficult to imagine he’d ever been so small.

Oliver made his way to the window, where he curled into a ball in a spot of sunlight and promptly fell asleep.

Gemma stepped back from the wardrobe and wrapped her arms around herself. Could she do it? Could she give birth to a child and leave him here to live with his father? What if Lucian raised her son the way his own father had raised him ? To be preoccupied with reputation at the cost of relationships.

The man who made love to her at night was loving and warm. The man who’d treated her so solicitously the past fortnight was too. But the man who’d been raised in this room to an indifferent father was someone else entirely. A cold, heartless person who only cared about status, not people.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Gemma turned to see Mrs. Howard step through the doorway.

The housekeeper stopped short when she saw Gemma. “Oh, Your Grace. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here. I thought perhaps the door came ajar.”

Gemma nodded. “It’s all right, Mrs. Howard. I wanted to see this room again.”

A tender smile came to Mrs. Howard’s lips. “It’s been empty since His Grace was a lad.”

Gemma cocked her head to the side and forced herself to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue. “What sort of a boy was His Grace?”

The tender smile turned into a bright one that lit the entirety of the older woman’s face. “Oh, he was a handsome one,” Mrs. Howard said, the skin around her eyes crinkling.

“I bet he was,” Gemma replied, laughing.

“Always up to something.” Mrs. Howard shook her head. “Always trying to make something or figure out how something worked.”

“That sounds right too.” Gemma’s smile grew. She took a deep breath. This might just be her best opportunity to get answers to the questions about Lucian that continued to gnaw at her. She lowered her voice. “What was he like…with his parents?”

Mrs. Howard glanced back into the corridor before shutting the door behind her. Then she hurried over to where Gemma stood. A solemn look shone in her eyes. “If I tell you, you must never tell His Grace that I did so.”

Gemma nodded.

Mrs. Howard glanced back over her shoulder, then she expelled her breath and threaded her fingers together tightly in front of her. “His Grace grew up in a very strange household,” she began.

Gemma nodded again. “I’d gathered that much.”

“Yes, well. You see, his parents would go out into Society and smile and pretend they were happy together, if not madly in love.”

This time Gemma shook her head. “I can’t imagine anyone in this family being madly in love.”

A wistful smile touched the housekeeper’s lips. “His mother loved him dearly, but his father would not allow outward signs of affection. She had to sneak into this nursery to hold her son and hug him.”

Gemma gasped, her hand instinctively cupping her mouth. “No.”

Mrs. Howard nodded. “Yes. And if her husband found out, or even suspected, he wouldn’t speak to the duchess for days.”

Gemma’s eyes widened. “Days?” It was worse than she’d thought.

“That’s right. If she did anything he disapproved of, she was met with complete silence. He wouldn’t speak to her or even look at her. Sometimes weeks passed that way.”

Weeks? Oh, God. The indifference. That’s where it had come from. Lucian’s father. She’d suspected as much, and she’d been right.

“That’s awful,” Gemma said solemnly, trying to picture a young boy with no siblings growing up in a house devoid of love and happiness. “So they lived separate lives, the duke and duchess?”

Mrs. Howard shook her head. “No. That’s what’s so strange. They would have meals together. Sit in the drawing room together. They just wouldn’t speak.”

Gemma frowned. How would such a thing even work? She couldn’t imagine not speaking to Griffin or Meredith or Mama while they were having meals.

But then she remembered…the paper. It was possible to sit in the same room with a family member and not speak. She just hadn’t ever seen it until she’d come here.

Mrs. Howard cleared her throat. “As he grew older, His Grace was only allowed to see his parents upon occasion.”

Gemma bit her lip. Pain shot through her chest as she thought of a little boy being locked away in a nursery without his family. She’d grown up with Mama and Griffin and scores of servants she counted as friends. How must it have been for young Lucian? “I suppose he wasn’t allowed to speak to the servants?”

“Only me,” Mrs. Howard confirmed. “And his tutors when they came. If the old duke saw his son speaking to servants in a friendly manner, he was severely reprimanded.”

Gemma expelled her breath. That was why Lucian treated the servants so cooly. He’d been taught to keep his distance. Punished for doing otherwise. It made her shudder.

“Of course, I was relieved when he was sent to Eton,” Mrs. Howard continued. “That’s where he met his friends. Including your brother, I believe.” Mrs. Howard winced. “I can’t tell you how many nights I spent with him before he left for school while he cried himself to sleep, wanting to know why his parents wouldn’t visit him. After a while, he just stopped trying to earn their love.”

Gemma gasped. The ache in her chest grew wider, making it difficult to breathe. “That is positively dreadful. Love shouldn’t have to be earned.”

“I agree.” Mrs. Howard’s voice was low and sad. “And I’m only telling you this now because I know you’re the sort of lady who can convince His Grace to try to love again.”

Gemma sucked in her breath. She’d never contemplated such a thing. In fact, just the opposite, she was trying to leave the man. Or she had been. Now she was confused about her feelings. Still, she had no intention of telling Mrs. Howard about their arrangement, even if she hadn’t signed a contract keeping her from it. Lucian was proud. He didn’t deserve that sort of humiliation. When she did leave— if she did leave —she would take the blame.

“Did he—?” Gemma took another deep breath, shook her head, and tried again. “Did he ever spend time with his parents?” she ventured, already afraid of the answer. She couldn’t help but remember Lucian’s story about the hunting dogs and how his father hadn’t explained to him what they could do. But clearly, he’d been in his father’s company sometimes.

“His father would take him hunting upon occasion. Shooting or some other pursuit the old duke deemed as manly, but they never did much else together.”

Gemma swallowed the painful lump in her throat. She hated the idea of a little boy being told what was “manly.” Everything Mrs. Howard had told her made Gemma’s heart ache for the child Lucian had been. “Nothing else?” she prompted.

“I’m afraid not.” Mrs. Howard shook her head again. “And His Grace’s father wouldn’t allow His Grace’s mother to do anything with him either. Aside from the secret visits, she rarely saw him. And when His Grace did see his father, he was punished for showing any emotion.”

Tears fell from Gemma’s eyes. She couldn’t help them. She didn’t try to hide them. “That’s dreadful.”

“It was,” echoed Mrs. Howard. “After the old duke died, His Grace and his mother became closer. He always loved her very much. It was difficult for him when she died.”

Gemma sucked in her breath and slowly exhaled. The things Mrs. Howard had just told her were awful. Now Gemma understood why Lucian had been the way he’d been.

But one thought throbbed viciously through her brain, pounding her skull with its importance.

I will not allow my son to be treated that way .

She might not even be enceinte , but it didn’t matter. She had to have Lucian’s promise, or she could not continue with their agreement. She would not allow her children to be raised without love.