Chapter 26

Despite the late hour, Adam sent for the local magistrate immediately and was informed that the man would come as soon as possible. He and Emmeline stayed in the study with Nicholas, the silence stifling between them. She longed to reach out to her husband and soothe him, but she felt his tension, and he knew he wouldn't allow it.

In front of them, sagging in the chair, Nicholas looked as though he had lost everything. In a way, she felt a little sorry for him. Regardless of what happened, he clearly regretted it. Adam might have his doubts, but she knew love when she saw it. Even if Nicholas's present situation might require the money that William had said was hidden here somewhere, he had still loved William—at least enough that he was genuinely grieving now that he was gone.

Adam, she knew, didn't feel that way, and that was understandable, too. He didn't care whether Nicholas truly did love his brother. The fact remained that he was the reason behind William's demise. There were no extenuating circumstances that could make it more palatable.

The hours ticked by, and the light from sunrise trickled through the windows by the time the magistrate finally arrived at the house. He had two servants with him, his black coat was creased, and he looked almost as tired as Emmeline felt.

"Unorthodox," he said as Adam explained the situation. At Adam's irritation, he covered for the comment by adding, "That such a thing would have happened."

Nicholas glanced at them both, his eyes bloodshot in the dawn light. "I regret hurting you both," he said. "Whatever else you may believe, I hope you believe that."

Adam grunted. Emmeline didn't smile, but she at least believed that.

But regret didn't change the past.

Adam was not cruel enough to give the full truth to the magistrate at least, although she suspected that it was partially to protect the reputation of his brother. However he felt about the illicit affair between the two men, Society in general would not look kindly upon it.

It was a small kindness, not especially for Nicholas's sake, but there was gratitude in his eyes as he walked out of the room, escorted by the two large manservants that accompanied the magistrate.

The magistrate mopped at his forehead. "Murder," he repeated. "Well, of course, there will be a trial, but…"

"I will testify against him," Adam said with that same terrifying calm.

"Yes, of course, Your Grace."

"As will I," Emmeline said. "After all, he made an attempt on my life, however much I believe it was accidental."

"I recommend you hold him," Adam said, "until the time of his sentencing."

The magistrate nodded, his face becoming more drawn and haggard by the second. Nicholas was a viscount, a member of the peerage—this was far beyond the magistrate's understanding.

"I recommend you bring in a judge to handle the matter," Adam said, evidently taking pity on the man, who had likely only been called upon to handle small, local disputes.

"Yes, Your Grace," the magistrate said eagerly. "Yes, that is an excellent idea."

"Quite. You may go."

Thus dismissed, the magistrate bowed and left.

Adam took Emmeline's hand, giving her a quick once over. "Bed," he said, and there was nothing she could do but nod.

The events of the night had kept her awake, but now that they had answers, no matter how tragic, she felt the way her eyelids desperately wanted to close.

"Are you coming?" she asked, and he nodded, bringing her hand to his lips.

"In a moment. I'll be up shortly."

"Very well."

There was no opposing him when he was in this mood, and she hardly wanted to. She ascended the stairs in a daze, undressed in her bedroom, and slipped through the adjoining door to climb into his bed. This was the first night they had spent together in their house since she left, but she suspected he would not want to be alone.

And by the time he crawled in beside her, using the light streaming through the curtains to light his way, her suspicions were confirmed by the way he immediately held her close.

"Are you all right?" she murmured.

"Shh." He kissed the side of her head, and she positioned herself so she was lying on his chest, his arm around her waist and his heart beating beneath her ear. "I don't want to talk."

"All right then." Sleepily, she stroked a finger down his chest, then back up. "We don't have to talk."

"Thank you for staying with me."

"I'm your wife, Adam. Your side is where I belong, and that's where I will stay until you send me away again."

"Never." His arm tightened around her, and he shifted so they were laying face to face, their noses almost brushing. A quiet moment after the horror they had both suffered. "I won't, Emmeline. Not again. That was the greatest mistake of my life."

She kissed him, siphoning away the rest of his words until all that was left was his gratitude and his love. Despite their exhaustion, they made love as they faced one another, and when they were spent, they lay together, limbs tangled, hearts racing.

"Adam," she said.

"Hmm?" His voice was low, and his fingers trailed down her bare spine.

"I love you too. And I know it may not seem like it now, but will we make it through this together."

His breath rushed out of his lungs, and he pressed his lips to hers, an urgent, wordless affirmation. "I never once doubted that we would make it through this together," he said as he pulled back. His eyes shone with emotion.

This man could not have been further from the Duke she had first met, but she was unspeakably relieved to have met him then, to have had an opportunity to learn what lay behind the cold, harsh exterior.

And now she loved him.

"You were so calm in there," she murmured. "I thought for certain you would strike him."

He stroked her hair. "I pushed him against the wall."

"Yes, well, considering the circumstances, that was very restrained."

He laughed against her cheek. "If I had watched myself, I would not have called myself restrained."

"Then perhaps you ought to change your definitions." She stroked her fingers along his jaw. "You were wonderful, my darling. It must have been hard to hear."

He paused, and his fingers paused on her skin as he thought. "It was," he said at last, "but not as much as I thought it would be. Knowing what happened—an argument, of everything—hit hard. But I already knew William was dead, and I already suspected Nicholas was involved. Knowing just means I have an answer to an open question."

"Perhaps now you can heal," she suggested.

"Perhaps." A smile touched his mouth, although his eyes were sad. "I wish he could have met you."

"As do I, but if you had not been obliged to marry as Duke, you would never have approached my father, I would never have volunteered, and we would never have married the way we did." She let her fingertips rest on his lips, so soft when the rest of him was so hard. "I think often things happen for a reason, and we are given the tools to help us along the way. Not that your brother died for a reason," she hastened to add. "But because he died, you were able to find me. And I can help you get through it."

"My beautiful wife." This time, his smile reached his eyes. "I thank my lucky stars every day that I found you."

"And I you."

* * *

The next few days passed slowly. Emmeline could see the way that Adam was coming to terms with the reality—that William was not coming back. A hope he hadn't even known he had, dashed.

Still, there was no wound that time could not eventually heal. He opened up to her in bits and pieces, confessing about the fire that had broken out when he was little more than a boy—and the way he blamed himself for it. They went through the east wing together, and he talked her through all the different portraits and the memories associated with them.

Slowly but surely, she could see he was coming around to the idea that he did not have to bear responsibility for the damage caused in his past. The fire was an accident, and he saved William. His mother's death was tragic, but not his burden to bear.

Sometimes, he even smiled when he spoke about his mother. She must have been a wonderful person, Emmeline reflected as she gazed into the face of a woman she wished she could have met.

"I would have loved her," she said, linking her fingers with his.

"She would have loved you."

She stared at a portrait of the former duchess with her two sons. There was a soft smile on her face, and on each of her son's faces. Emmeline looked at William and wondered what he would have been like. Very different from Adam—impulsive and gregarious, fond of music and dancing and cards.

All those debts.

His frustrated, helpless love for a man who could never truly commit to him in any meaningful, public manner.

His boyish smile was open and wild, and she wondered how life had changed him, changed that. Or whether it had always been inside him and he had always had a smile like that.

For all that, she thought she would have liked him, too, if she had met him.

Adam looked down, a pensive expression on his face, and she smiled up at him, her eyes shiny with tears. "We should put this portrait somewhere prominent, so everyone who comes to the house can see it."

He squeezed her shoulders. "And we should have a portrait of us, too."

"Two families. Two generations." She rested a hand on her stomach, wondering about the possibility of having children of their own. He didn't miss the gesture, and his eyes widened. "Not yet," she hastened to add. "But perhaps one day."

"Hopefully soon."

"You want to have children soon?"

"Do you not?" He tipped up her chin, looking at her. "My father wanted more children from my mother than she could bear, and it hurt her to lose them. Even when I was a child, I recognized the toll it took on her. If you rather wait, if there is a reason you do not want children now, then we can take steps to?—"

"No." She covered his mouth with her fingers. "Not that. I want children, and I want them with you. The sooner the better."

The sooner they could put this mess behind them, the better.

Thinking about how their marriage started, the fact that she wanted nothing more than a quiet life with him, raising their children and making a difference in the lives of the people who lived on their estate, was almost crazy. And yet there was nothing she wanted more.

Adam. A family. A family that was free from the betrayal and the pain that he'd endured so far. A family he could pour his love into and that he could learn to heal with.

Time would help. She would help. A new beginning would help.

* * *

"Nicholas will be tried soon," Adam said over dinner.

"Oh?" Emmeline paused, setting her spoon down.

"I said I would testify." He rubbed a hand over his face. "But I don't know. He hurt you. And he is the reason my brother died."

"An accident, if you believe him," Emmeline said, nodding. "Are you having a change of heart?"

"I hardly know. Should I?"

"That's not a question I can answer, my love." She offered him a sad smile. "He was your friend, and he betrayed you. I believe he loved your brother, but he killed him, even if it was an accident. Can you forgive him?"

"I don't think I can. But should I let him be tried and hanged for his crimes? He has no money to secure safe passage to the Continent."

"Perhaps." Emmeline tilted her head. "You have time to decide."

"And what about his wife?"

That was another thorny subject, and one Emmeline was not wholly sure how to address.

She pursed her lips. "I suppose it depends on what happens to Nicholas. If he is not hanged, I think I ought to encourage her to divorce him."

Adam's eyebrows rose. "Divorce?"

"Unconventional, I know, but not unheard of, and given the provocation, perfectly understandable."

"She is with child."

Emmeline frowned. That was true, and that the child was Nicholas's, there was no doubt. And his wife did not have it in her to take another lover.

As a divorcee, the Viscountess would not have any financial support or protection.

"Well," Emmeline said slowly. "Her father may step in. Or perhaps we could take her in?"

"Emmeline." Adam groaned. "What makes you think we can afford to house her and the baby?"

"Who else will take her if her father does not? And you are a duke—you could sponsor her, and she would find another match in no time. She's young and pretty and meek. Qualities most men look for in a wife." She winked across the table at her husband. "Present company notwithstanding, of course."

* * *

More days passed by, then a week. Lady Sarron's father agreed to take her back, although there was no discussion of a divorce at present. Adam knew that Nicholas was likely to be hanged for his crimes, but although he knew he would never forgive the man for what he had done to his brother, a little sympathy for him also crept in.

He had known, briefly, what it was like to live without Emmeline—it had been as though a part of him was missing. A void inside him that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not fill.

If Nicholas had been suffering that every day since William's death, and additional guilt over having been the cause, then that was a punishment of its own.

"You are thinking grave thoughts," Emmeline said from where she was reclined on the sofa.

A bout of sickness had made her disinclined to read or embroider, but she was watching him with patient amusement on her face.

He did not think he could love her more, even as a bolt of anxiety shot through him at the thought she might be ill. He had almost lost her twice over—he could not afford to lose her again.

"I was thinking about Rickard," he said, the lie an easy one. "And that I should publicly acknowledge him as my brother."

She gave a soft, sweet smile. "He would be delighted to hear it."

Rickard was still in London, although given his background, he was still very much not part of Society. Making him a duke's brother would suddenly catapult him into the social scene. A dubious thing to do, in Adam's opinion, but already Rickard had shown himself to adore Society.

"It's a shame we can't invite his mother to England," Adam said idly.

It was odd, the sense of loss the thought brought, although he had never met the lady, and although she had no connection to him. After losing his mother, it would have been a little like finding a new one. The mother of his half-brother, the wife of his father, was as much of a mother as most people could expect to find.

"When he marries, you may invite his wife," Emmeline said idly. "And in the meantime, if you crave female company, my mother would be more than happy to visit."

Adam winced. "She would give us no peace."

"Perhaps." Emmeline glanced back at him, the green in her eyes more prominent, like twin jewels. "But there is no chance that we can afford to put her off for too long."

"And why is that, wife of mine?"

This time her smile was wider, creasing the skin around her eyes in a way that told him age would paint wrinkles there. And he, the luckiest of men, would live to see them.

"Because," she said, "I believe I am with child."

* * *

Adam looked at Emmeline with mingled disbelief and hope in his eyes. "With child?" he asked, his voice a hushed whisper. "Can it be true? When? How?"

She laughed, resting a hand on her stomach. In truth, there was no real sign of a bump yet, although her maid had assured her that it took some ladies longer for their pregnancy to show. The fact she was tall no doubt meant it would take her longer than most.

"I suspect since before I left for my parents' house," she said. "We were together a few times before then, and?—"

"I didn't think it would happen so soon." His face was pale as he regarded her. "The other day you asked about children. Did you know?"

She shook her head. "You know how I have been getting sick every so often? My maid asked me when I last bled, and reminded me she had not washed my linens in… quite some time. It was then I noticed that I had missed two cycles. One was due shortly after I arrived at my parents' house, and the other when I returned here." She smiled at his dumbfounded expression. "Is it truly so shocking?"

"No. Well—" He shook his head. "A little. Are you well?" He came to crouch down by her side, her face in his hands. "You're certain?"

"As certain as I can be. It explains so many things—my emotional state has been a little heightened over the past few weeks, and I have been feeling a little sick. My maid assured me that would probably pass once I start to show."

Adam rested his hands reverently on her stomach. "I can't feel anything."

"No, you won't yet. It will take a little more time. But I'm positive you will soon. I must be around three months pregnant, I think."

"Three months."

She watched as he calculated. It was the beginning of September, and if she was three months pregnant, then she was due in March.

"A spring delivery. We'll be here, of course."

"My mother will want to visit, and I expect she will want to be here for the birth."

"Naturally, if that's what you want." He was up again, pacing, raking a hand through his hair. It gave him a somewhat rakish look she found she liked. "Whatever you need. Is there anything you need? A physician?"

Smiling, Emmeline shook her head and pulled herself into a sitting position. "It might… it might be a girl."

"Why do you say that as though it might be a problem?" He walked over to her and caught her face in his hands, kissing her enthusiastically. "If she is a girl, then she will take after you, and I cannot be disappointed with that."

"And if we never have a boy? After all, I am one of two girls."

"Then we will have two beautiful daughters." He cupped her face, and she could see the emotions swirling in his blue eyes. "Believe me, my love, this is everything I could have hoped for. With child! Oh, my darling."

Laughing, she accepted his embrace. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too. More than I could ever have conceived loving something." He bent to kiss her stomach, which was still perfectly flat. "And I shall love our child even more."

* * *

Adam watched from the bed as Emmeline stood before the mirror in their room, her hands on her stomach. Her body was beginning to change slightly. There was a tiny curve at the base of her stomach, and her breasts were larger now, heavier, although he wasn't entirely sure if she had so much as noticed.

These changes were evident to him, but only because he spent so much time looking at her, tracing her skin with his fingers, learning every part of her.

She would be beautiful to him even in the later stages of pregnancy, when her belly was large and distended. Even when she was old and gray and her childbearing days were long behind her.

He climbed out of bed and padded across to her, sliding his hands around her waist. She glanced up and met his gaze in the mirror.

"I know it's a natural thing," she said, trailing her nails across the back of his hands, "but I wonder sometimes if my body will ever go back to the way it is now."

"Does it matter if it doesn't?"

"It matters to me. It's my body. The thought of it changing… scares me."

He paused, thinking about the best way to approach this. If he could have his way, he would wrap her up and ensure nothing ever happened to her. He would lock her in this room and protect her from everything in this world that could harm her, and let her focus all her energy on all the changes that were happening to her body.

But as he couldn't do that, he did the next best thing—reassured her to the best of his ability.

"If it changes, it will because it's done a beautiful thing," he said, kissing her neck. "And should you not carry the physical marks of that wondrous thing?"

"And if I never look like this again?"

"Then I will love the way you look, and I hope you will grow to love it as well. Consider what you are asking of your body, and what it is providing. There is a baby in here. Our baby. Our child." He placed his hands on her stomach, fingers splayed wide. "And yes, the prospect of having a child scares me, too. I don't want to lose you. But I'm not worried about the way your body will change."

"Easy for you to say," she said wryly, turning in his arms and wrapping them around his neck. "It's not your body."

"You're my wife. In the eyes of the law, it is my body."

"Say that again, and you soon won't have any property to speak of."

He laughed and kissed her. After a moment's hesitation, she kissed him back.

"I don't want this to change," she said against his mouth.

"It won't, my love." He nipped her lip. "After all, I want far more than just one child."