“Then you know I will not risk you.”
“This is not your choice to make. We need to have a reasonable discussion.”
He withdrew from her, drawing up so he sat on the bed, his back flushing against the headboard. “A logical discussion has been had.”
“I am perfectly healthy. You should not believe I will suffer complications.”
“My proof is bones beneath the ground; my proof is in the tightness of your passage…”
She gasped and glowered at him.
“My proof is in the narrowness of your hips.”
She gathered the coverlet to her, and sat in the center of the four-poster bed, staring at him with a defiant tilt of her head. “Tell me what happened with Maryann, please.”
Her glare intensified at his silence. “I know I was not to ask about her, but surely you can see that is no longer an option. I have kept my silence, but in good conscience I can do so no longer. To be docile will ruin our chance for happiness.”
“And if I decline your request?”
“I shall make your life wretched.”
He arched a brow. “I fail to see the power you have to do this, madam.”
An elegant shoulder lifted. “I will not allow you to bed
me.”
For a stunned moment he was speechless, and when the import of her words were fully assessed and understood his entire body hardened, tensed. “Are you by chance attempting to manipulate me, Duchess?” he said with dangerous softness, a tone in which many heeded and retracted their offenses with alacrity.
Instead his duchess nodded firmly. “More like encouraging you to communicate with me. I realized last night after you drew me to you for the fifth time, that your reluctance to commence your martial duty had been well…bluster, and you are quite unable to resist me.”
Grudging appreciation flared inside him.
Then she gave him a sweetly sensual smile. “Upon my word, your mien is once again proud and unyielding. If it is any consolation, I find you magnificent and it will be painful for me to withhold from your touch…and kisses,” she said huskily, her eyes glowing with honest need and determination.
“Sarah’s birth had been difficult, and Maryann had labored for over twenty hours,” he said abruptly.
Adeline’s eyes widened with hope and something far tenderer that he was not yet ready to acknowledge. It occurred to him then that his duchess had been bluffing. She had not really thought he would open himself to her. Had he truly been so cold and reserved? He suddenly realized how much he wanted to actually converse with her, so that she could understand his stance even if she did not accept it. He was startled to realize he did not want her contempt or her resentment. When had her good opinion become important?
“Weeks after Sarah was born, Maryann resided in a deep melancholy. I consulted with several doctors, and I was told it was normal for many women who had just gone through the rigors of childbirth. I did everything possible to lift her spirits, and she did rally. The first night I…the first night I tried to take her to bed was eight months after Sarah’s birth. Maryann was as stiff as a board and hardly responded to my touch. I did not press an advantage, and I left her be for another several months. But in that time I mentioned on numerous occasions my wish for an heir, after all, what man, especially a duke, was not in need of a blasted successor and a spare.”
Warm and concerned eyes held his steady.
“Without me having to seduce her, she came to me, and we resumed intimacy. Shortly after, she became with child.” He cleared his throat several times before he continued. “I am not sure what moved her to confide in me, but she finally told me the doctors had advised her to not have any more children.”
“Oh,” Adeline gasped, sympathy filling her expressive eyes. She made as if to touch him, and then withdrew her hands quickly.
Edmond felt bereft, he wanted—no, craved—her gentle touch, which would no doubt anchor him against the tearing rage and guilt stirring in his gut.
“Why did the doctor not make you aware of the dangers?”
He tipped his head against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. “I was in London, arguing reform motions in the House of Lords when Maryann went into labor. I traveled to Rosette Park as soon as I received the news of Sarah’s birth. It was almost eight weeks later before I would see Dr. Greaves again, and when I questioned him as to her melancholy, for some unfathomable reason he did not see fit to mention the warning he gave her. I am not sure if he thought she had already told me, or if he did not want to remind me I must do without an heir, but he said nothing.”
Adel climbed onto the bed, nudging at his legs until he opened them, and then crawled into his lap so that she sat with her back pressed to his chest. He heaved a sigh of relief. Her touching him was highly welcomed. She gripped his arms and tugged them around her front, and brought his knuckles to her lips and pressed kisses on them. Edmond smiled. His duchess was trying to soothe his hurt with kisses. He lowered his nose into her hair and inhaled, wanting to trap her scent into his lungs for a lifetime.
“Then what happened?” she asked softly.
“After Maryann told me, I kept from her bed and watched for her like a hawk. I asked my mother to return to Rosette Park, and we did everything the doctor said for my wife. Maryann displayed no sign of illness, and in fact glowed with health and vitality. Then at seven months into her confinement, she simply woke one morning with blood pooling on the sheets.”