Page 19 of A Raven Repents

He found his cousin occupying a large leather armchair in a dimly lit drawing room. His eyes were closed and his feet were stretched out in front of him, but he wasn’t sleeping. His hand gripped a half-empty glass, and tension radiated from every inch of him.

“Ash will be glad to hear it’s barley water you’re nursing.”

His eyes opened and a grateful smile grew on his face. He set his drink on the side table and got to his feet. “I’m glad to see you.” He wrapped his arms around Giles. He’d gladly take a hug over a beating, but it wasn’t like Michael. His cousin must be worried.

“Of course I’m here. I’m looking forward to meeting your heir when he comes into the world.”

“The doctor hopes he’ll stay in there for at least another week or two. It’s early yet. And besides, what if the baby’s a girl?”

“Don’t even say that.”

“I’ll be happy with either one, just as long as the baby and Belle are both healthy.”

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been praying for it to be a boy.”

Michael chuckled. “You know, most people would be thrilled at the prospect of becoming an earl.”

“Well, not me. Right now I have most of the benefits without any of the responsibilities.”

“You’ll have to pour your own brandy if you want it.” Michael’s jaw clenched. “If this goes on much longer, I’m afraid I’ll have to have the staff hide it again.”

“I’ll have the same thing you’re having.” He poured himself a glass of barley water. Drinking brandy would be like rubbing salt in Michael’s wound.

“Speaking of responsibilities, how is life as a married man?” Michael asked as he sat back down.

Giles settled himself into the chair with a sigh. “Not really any different.” His wife was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of.

“And what does your mother think?”

Correction, his mother was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of. He ignored the question and took another drink.

Michael groaned. “You haven’t told her?”

“Am I supposed to send the news to Bournemouth in a telegram? It hardly seems appropriate.”

“I know your mother, Giles. If she comes to find you have a wife and haven’t told her…?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t put it past her to try to put you over her knee.”

Giles couldn’t even laugh. If she knew how he’d been treating his wife, she’d undoubtedly do just that. “I haven’t come here to talk about my wife or my mother.”

“Be that as it may, you’re being naive to think she hasn’t heard the rumors. They get scandal sheets in Bournemouth too.”

“That’s quite enough, old chap.” He got up from his chair. “Suddenly, I feel like imbibing in something stronger than barley water.”

He poured himself a generous glass of brandy, downed the entire thing, and refilled it before putting the stopper back into the bottle. Stupidly, he hadn’t even considered that his mother might have learned of his folly. But of course she would have. The speculation had been on the front page of all the gossip rags. Everyone wanted to know the story of how some unknown woman had managed to convince him to marry. And in such a hurry. Of course they all assumed she must have seduced him and then fallen pregnant.

In truth, his mother would probably be thrilled that he was married, regardless of how it came to pass. She’d be even more thrilled if they really were expecting a child. But if she knew the way he’d treated his wife, knew that he’d shouted at her, insulted her, and abandoned her, locked up in his home alone, she’d be furious with him. And rightly so. He downed the second glass and poured a third.

“Easy there, Giles. The brandy isn’t going anywhere. You can save some for later.”

“Someone ought to drink it.” He took a swallow.

Michael gave an exasperated sigh and drained his own glass. “I’m going up to check on Belle. Surely the doctor must be finished with her by now.”

That’s what he was supposed to be here for, supporting Michael, not drowning his own sorrows. But what difference did it make? He was useless. Useless as a partner, friend, cousin, and heir. And especially useless as a husband. He downed the rest of his glass and poured yet another.

It wasn’t long before his mind grew blessedly fuzzy, but it didn’t ease his guilt. Pictures of Christina continued to flash in his mind. Locked away like a princess in a tower. Only it wasn’t a tower. It was just his house. He hadn’t thought he was making her a prisoner when he married her. But what else could she possibly be, abandoned in a strange place, alone?

The stairs were a bit uneven as he climbed them, but luckily, the railing was mostly still. Michael sat on a chair outside Belle’s chambers. Isaac, her bodyguard, sat beside him, looking just as worried. The doctor must not be finished, after all.