Chapter 36

36

Leo hadn't meant to say it. He cursed himself a thousand times, but he couldn't get away from the essential truth of it. He was her servant and belonged to her utterly in a way that time could never break nor alter. He would obey her in everything, he'd have said he would, but it seemed, when he came to it, that he couldn't obey in this. He simply couldn't agree to live with her as man and wife if there was no possibility, not the tiniest glimmer of hope, that she might ever come to love him.

Even as he'd said it, he knew what he was giving up. Her, in his life, in his home, every day. In his bed. He knew the connection that burned between them well enough by now to be sure that bed would be part of it. A major part. She wasn't proposing a marriage of convenience, not in any conventional sense, and certainly not a marriage in name only. She'd give him her body. The bond between them was still alive, still powerful and electric and undiminished by their estrangement. He'd been aware of it, distressed as they both were, in that dusty, sad little room. A touch, a glance, and they'd have fallen on each other once again, though it would have solved precisely nothing. It was bitterly ironic that they no longer needed to be so careful, now that it was too late.

It didn't for so much as a moment occur to him to doubt her; she had no reason in the world to lie to him. She hadn't trapped him, far from it; she had trapped herself, to her evident horror. She wanted the baby, sure enough, that wasn't the problem – she just didn't want him along with it, not in the way he wanted her.

A child, her child, theirs. An everyday sort of miracle. More than that, after what she'd been told with such certainty by men who might have been supposed to know their business, but clearly did not. In other circumstances, it could have been some of the best news he had ever received, a moment he would remember for the rest of his life. He supposed that last part at least was still true. He wasn't likely to forget this dreadful day any time soon, when he had been offered a sort of twisted parody of everything he had ever dreamed of for himself.

But it wasn't enough. Not for him. He wished it were. It would be so much easier if he could accept it. He didn't enjoy doing this to himself. The prospect of marrying her then immediately separating, which was after all what he was proposing, was appalling to him. The idea of voluntarily denying himself the company of the woman he loved, of ensuring too that their innocent child grew up without him as a daily presence, was nothing less than horrible. Obscene, almost, and profoundly wrong. It wasn't that it would cause comment, even scandal – he didn't care about that, though he knew that others would, his mother included. But it would be pure misery. It was no way for anyone to live, married yet not. But spending every day at her side, holding her, kissing and touching her, without love, without any hope of love – that was a travesty too. He thought that for him that would be worse. Were those really his only choices? It appeared so.

He couldn't face her after this. He didn't want her to think he was deserting her, leaving her to confront this alone, because he would not do that – he had said he would marry her, and he meant to stand by that. This wasn't her fault, he wasn't blaming her – well, no, it was her fault, because she'd concocted this bizarre scheme, and this unwelcome outcome had always been a distinct possibility, whatever she had sincerely believed and convinced him to believe too. A man and a woman coupled; a woman conceived a child. There was hardly anything unusual about it. But he was an adult, and had agreed, so if there was blame to be apportioned it belonged to both of them. This must always be the case when two willing partners – and God knows they had both been that – made a child together. He'd marry her. But just now he didn't think he could stand to look at her. Because after all he still loved her, and it was unbearable.

He went to talk to Hal. He couldn't leave without telling him, although he couldn't face Cassandra or his mother, and after all, there was no great need for secrecy now. Everyone would know that they were marrying soon enough, and the haste with which they must do it was bound to result in speculation. He found Lord Irlam playing billiards with his brother, Matthew and Tom, but he didn't have to devise some ruse to take him aside, because one glimpse of his own face was enough to have Hal setting down his cue in haste and pulling him from the room to find some privacy.

His cousin had the sense to wait till they were alone to say, ‘My God, Leo, what's the matter? Is there ill news – is it one of the boys? Georgie, her child? For pity's sake, tell me quickly!'

‘No,' he hastened to say. ‘Nothing like that. I'm sorry I made you think… No, it's this wretched business of mine. I can't be here, not now. I need to go up to London tomorrow, but I'll go home tonight. I have to.' He felt as though his tongue was swollen in his mouth, making it hard to speak, to form coherent sentences or even thoughts.

‘What's happened now?' Hal asked with a certain measure of resignation.

‘Lady Ashby…' It was ridiculous to call her that. ‘Isabella… We quarrelled. I foolishly started to think, to hope, that she might care for me, and I declared myself to her, so stupid. But I was wrong. She doesn't love me, of course she doesn't.'

‘I'm so sorry,' Hal said soberly. ‘I really am, old fellow. I wish I could do something to help you.'

‘Nobody can. But that's not all of it. She's with child, Hal. She just told me.'

His cousin swore, his face a picture of astonishment. ‘Good God, man, I can't comprehend what you're telling me! You mean you… You mean she…?'

‘I wanted to tell you, what we were doing and why, but I didn't want to betray her trust in me. It seems almost laughable now, and after all, there's no point explaining everything now. Yes, it's rather unfortunate in the circumstances,' he said with a bleak smile and considerable understatement. ‘I'll marry her, of course. But I can't be with her just now. It's not that I'm angry – it's not her fault, or if it is it's as much mine too. But…' He broke off, fearing that he was perilously close to tears.

His cousin said rather grimly, ‘I confess I didn't think she was the sort of woman to have a clandestine affair – nor you the sort of fellow, for that matter. But it's not the first time things have gone on under my nose and I ignorant as a schoolboy.'

‘It wasn't like that, Hal. Please don't judge her when you don't know all. It made sense to her, my poor darling, what she was doing, and I could see it too, in a way. She's had a dreadful time of it, and I'd explain to you now if I could bear it. But I can't.'

Hal took him by the shoulders and shook him very gently. ‘You really are in the devil of a fix. And even if I don't pretend to understand, I can help, actually. I can't do anything about your cursed situation, but I can go and fetch your licence for you.'

‘There's no need…'

‘I think there is. There's no doubt the clerks will see me quicker than they'd see you – privilege of rank, and we might as well take advantage of it. There'll be no trouble about getting the thing, you're both of age and it's all above board as far as they'll know. But to be frank with you, old fellow, looking at you, I'm not sure you're in a fit state to make it to London by yourself, and if you go to Doctors' Commons and present them with the face you're wearing at the moment, they'll smell some sort of rat and put you through stiff questions, which you don't seem to me to be in the right frame of mind to answer. Let me do this for you, Leo. It's the only thing in the world that I can do to aid you, and I want to.'

‘Thank you,' he said gruffly. ‘I shouldn't accept, but I will. Can you do something else for me? Spin some tale that will satisfy Cassandra and my mother and all the rest of them, something to do with a small emergency at Winter Manor, nothing too serious. Tell her, Isabella, that I'm going home to set things in motion, but that I'll be back as soon as everything has been arranged. I should tell my mother about my plans myself, but I can't face it, not just yet. When you get back, send for me, and I'll come. And we can tell everyone some damned romantic lie and be married.'

‘You'll sort it out, you know. Cassandra and I did, Georgie and Gabriel did. We've had our bleak times, times when everything felt completely desperate. But we got through it.'

Leo was too bone-tired to argue. ‘I hope you're right. I can't talk about it any more now. I'll pack, and go.' He made his way out of the room but turned in the doorway and said, ‘Thank you. I can't tell you how much… But I do appreciate it, Hal.'

Hal waved a hand. ‘No need for that. Be off with you. Take care. Drive my curricle, and Jem can bring it back.'

Leo threw his belongings into his bags all anyhow, and half an hour later he was tooling Hal's two-wheeler down the Castle's carriage drive with the imposing figure of Jem Oldcastle at his side. Jem was Hal's head groom and a great deal more than that, and besides was married to Cassandra's maid Kitty, who also happened to be Hal's old nurse. They'd known each other Leo's whole life, and at first he'd feared that Jem might make some comment on his sudden departure, or on his demeanour, which he was painfully aware was very far from normal, but his companion was blessedly silent for the whole of the short journey, letting him concentrate on handling the fresh pair of horses, and if he had any thoughts he kept them to himself on this occasion. ‘Do you wish for me to bide here a while, Cap'n, or shall I take the greys straight back?' he asked when they reached Winter Manor and drew up outside the porch. ‘His Lordship said I should take my orders from you.'

‘Thank you, Jem, you can take them home. My cousin's going up to London tomorrow, so better you get back in good time in case he needs you.'

Jem made a noise that signified agreement, or at least understanding, and if it signified anything else besides Leo chose to ignore it. He jumped down, and Jem took his place. The elderly butler Lewis came out with the young footman Philip to take down Leo's bags, and a moment later the curricle was gone.

Perhaps there would be some comfort in being home, Leo thought as he made his way inside the panelled entrance hall, listening with half an ear to Lewis's talk of the doings of the house and estate. It didn't seem so at the moment, but perhaps being here with a little space and time to be alone and reflect would help. Although he'd have to tell everyone that he was soon to be married, and receive their congratulations, and that would be hard. But not yet, not today. His mother didn't know yet, and until she did he couldn't tell anyone else, it wouldn't be fair.

There were letters to deal with, waiting for him on his desk, though not many. Anything that looked urgent would have been sent on to the Castle. He'd been riding over here for a couple of hours every few days or so, though probably not as often as he should have in his obsession with Isabella, but it was winter now, and little was happening on the land. He didn't feel like reading business letters, or any kind of letters, but he wasn't sure what he did feel like doing. Nothing sensible. He sat in the comfortable room surrounded by his possessions and frowned at the lovingly detailed wooden model of his last ship, the frigate Paris , but he wasn't seeing it. He was imagining rushing back to her, and telling her he'd been foolish, and of course they'd live as man and wife, of course he'd take whatever she would give him. Even now he could do it. But it would be a mistake. He knew it would. He sighed, pulling the small pile of correspondence toward him and attempting to lose himself in it. At least here he could be miserable in peace.