Page 86 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

“I’m fine, ma’am, thank you for asking. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” Lucy stopped, her keen eyes traveling over Jessamine’s face. “If you don’t mind me saying, ma’am, I wonder if that might be a good idea for you, too. I can call someone else to watch over him with me for the time being, if that would make you more comfortable.”

Jessamine dragged a hand down her face. Somewhere in the house, Andrew was sleeping, apparently perfectly content with the way he had ripped her heart into shreds. If she retired to her bedchamber now, all she would do is see the absence of him in it.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said at last. “His Grace has told me—well, he has said that we are not to have a marriage of any sort. All this ever was, all it ever has been, is a means to an end. A way of providing for William the way his mother would have wanted.” She braced her arms over her bent knees and rested her chin on them. “I knew that was all we would ever have, and I still wanted more.”

Lucy took a seat beside her. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

“Are you married?”

“I was, ma’am. He passed away in the war.”

“I’m sorry.”

“These things happen. I’m not the only widow left. It’s why…” She gestured around herself. “Nursing mothers are hard to come by, so there’s always work, and I’ve been nursing since I weaned my eldest.”

“How old is he?”

“Five.” Lucy smiled fondly. “He’s a mischief-maker. Like his father.”

“Do you ever…” Jessamine struggled to find the words. “How does one ever navigate marriage? Nothing seems as simple as it ought to be.”

“Well, that’s because it’s not, ma’am, if you’ll forgive me saying. Marriage is hard, and it takes work. I loved my husband, but there were times when I wanted to toss him out on his backside and let the night frosts have him!” Lucy laughed. “But he’s a man. What else can you expect other than a little stupidity at times? They pretend to be complex creatures, but really, they’re simple. At least, my husband was. He just sometimes wanted things he didn’t know how to ask for.”

The opposite was true here: Andrew had very directly asked for what he wanted, which was not her. In fact, he wanted the very opposite of her. A marriage of convenience.

“Talk with him,” Lucy urged, then caught herself. “At least, that’s my advice, Your Grace. You’re welcome to take it or leave it.”

Talk to Andrew.

That sounded easy in principle, but Jessamine had kept trying, had kept talking with him. She’d confessed her desires, and he had shut a door in her face.

If Andrew wanted to speak with her, he would have to be the one to approach her. And if he didn’t, then… well, that would be the beginning of the sort of marriage he so clearly asked for.

One where they did not care for each other at all.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kate tugged on Jessamine’s hand. “Can I hold him?”

“Of course.” Jessamine relinquished William to Kate, making sure the younger girl was sitting comfortably.

William stirred and made a fretful cry, but Kate merely jiggled him with a soothing motion that seemed to come naturally.

Irene watched on with such proud warmth on her fact that Jessamine found hard to look at. In the five days since the attack on William, she and Andrew had not spoken once. Yet again, he was avoiding her in her own home, and only spending time with William when she wasn’t there.

It was like being married to a ghost.

“She is such a darling,” Irene said fondly. “I wasn’t sure how I would feel about living with my husband’s younger sister, but it’s utterly delightful. And thanks to William, she will have some experience with babies before this one comes along.”

She patted her stomach, which looked as though it had become more rounded by the day.

“How are you faring with the pregnancy?”

Irene made a face. “There is nothing good I can say about the experience, except that it will eventually result in a child. If I could have my way, I would never go through this again, and just have a child. You did it the right way around.”

Jessamine pressed a hand to her own flat stomach. She knew she ought to feel that way, but instead she just felt… empty at the thought. There was nothing she wanted more than a child of her own. No matter how much she loved William, and how much he was her child, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to create one of her own, a baby who was half her, half Andrew.

“What is it?” Irene asked, a frown descending over her face. “What was that look for?”