He opened the front door and was surprised to see one of the nurses with Duncan waiting. “Oh, we were wondering when you would return,” she said cheerfully. “Master Duncan has been asking about his papa for quite some time.”
Add that to the list of things he felt guilty about. Leaving his only son for close to seven weeks because he was a coward and couldn’t face his own wife? He managed a smile and pat on the head before asking about Sara. Grabbing Duncan out of the nurse’s arms he waited for confirmation on Sara’s whereabouts.
“You don’t know?” The nurse asked.
He was tired of hearing people answering his questions like that. Obviously he didn’t know anything. That much was clear. He really would like to go at least a few weeks without someone saying life-altering things to him.
“Know what?” he asked, extremely irritated.
The nurse licked her lips and paused. Looking around at the waiting for servants before she explained to him where Sara was. “My lord, she left with Lady Fenton for the country. They’ve been gone a few days already.”
Nicholas felt something akin to panic rise in his chest. “The country? Where in the country?”
The nurse eyed him suspiciously. “Your country home sir. She is, after all, your wife, is she not?”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out the condescending tone in the nurse’s voice. “Thank you, that will be all,” he snapped, handing over his quiet son. Realizing it was the first time he had seen his son in weeks, he took him back. “Pack your things. We’re going to the country house.”
“We?” she gasped.
“All of us!” he snapped. “Now go pack Duncan’s things and bring along your own; we leave in an hour.”
He had a wife to see.
Chapter Twenty-Five
By the time everyone loaded the luggage into the two waiting carriages, a ghastly two hours had passed. Nicholas felt he would surely die on the spot if they didn’t get a move on. As it was, they would probably have a good three-hour ride to the house. Although he hadn’t visited in years, it was oddly enough where most of his favorite childhood memories had taken place.
He tried to stay awake, but the stress of the day took its toll. He woke up when the carriage came to a halt in front of his old country mansion. Not willing to wait another minute he ran out of the carriage and burst into the house. Several servants jumped at his arrival, others gave him a look of pure rage which he was guessing he deserved.
What he didn’t expect was Lady Fenton to be up taking tea. It had to be close to midnight; what the devil was she doing up drinking tea?
“Took you long enough,” she scolded, not looking up from her needlework. “I had no idea it would be seven full weeks before you’d get your head out of your—“
“Please,” he interrupted, holding a hand up, “save your lecture, I’ve punished myself enough these past few weeks.”
Lady Fenton let out an unladylike snort. “I find that hard to believe considering you were away in Scotland while Sara found out.”
Her mouth shut quite quickly, quicker than he had ever seen Lady Fenton shut her mouth, and that was saying a lot, considering she never actually shut her mouth. Her talking was as normal as some people’s need for air.
“When Sara found out what?” he asked. Something in the way she shut herself up told him it had nothing to do with the earlier news.
“Let me tell you a story,” she said after a long pause. She patted the seat next to her and he sat. She started very slowly but as the story progressed he felt worse and worse about how he treated Sara. Lady Fenton shed more light onto the affair and Sara’s situation and why she felt the need to send her away to the countryside.
“I had no idea,” she exclaimed through choked sobs, “that they would treat her that way, that I would be guilty of treating my own flesh and blood that way, but I despised her, too, for what she represented; for what I couldn’t have.” She put her hand over Nicholas’s. “Ever since Sara’s birth, I haven’t been able to conceive. I know it’s not proper to talk about such things, but after Sara’s birth it has been nothing but crushed expectations and dreams.” She took another deep breath. “I hated Sara for showing me how awful I had been. I even allowed her mother to go on calling her ugly. I told myself it was to protect Sara, but really it was because she reminded me of him.”
Nicholas felt his heart drop. The him she was referring to was most definitely the him Nicholas had killed two years ago. Lady Fenton looked up into his eyes. “Oh dear boy, don’t you dare think he didn’t have it coming. He was a terrible man. I know you were only defending yourself, and that girl didn’t help by so eagerly jumping into your bed either. She knew exactly what she was doing.”
Nicholas knew she was right. Both the duke and duchess had known what they were doing. And so had Nicholas, which made it worse.
“You can’t keep blaming yourself forever. We all have our demons to deal with. You just have to face yours head-on sooner than the rest of us.”
He sighed. “Why do people keep calling them demons?”
She put her hand across his again. “Because they control us. They make choices for us, good and bad. We let our choices in the past dictate our future. It isn’t fair that because of what has happened to you, you no longer move on with the blessing that’s been given to you. Sara meant you no harm; you must see that. She had no idea. Can you imagine the shock? The week of your wedding?”
Nicholas hadn’t thought of that, but then again he hadn’t been thinking about Sara, he’d been thinking about himself and how it had made him feel like a fool. How he felt manipulated and used for his money and title. When in fact, how must she have felt? He felt sick again and paled. Lady Fenton gave him the eye that said, “Do not throw up on this beautiful loveseat or I shall strike you dead on the spot.” He took some calming breaths before he stood.
“You should speak to your wife, my lord. She has much to say.”
Nicholas chuckled. He suddenly felt lighter but frightened at the same time. He remembered how he hurt Sara. It would be nothing short of a miracle for her to forgive him.
***
Sara tossed and turned for hours before she finally fell asleep, and when she did, she had beautiful dreams of a little boy dancing with her in the wildflowers. She looked up to see Nicholas running toward them, arms outstretched.
She screamed with delight in her sleep, but it was enough of a jolt to wake her up. She nearly fell off the bed, then with a gut wrenching sob began crying all over again. It was absolute torture. She could still smell him, still feel him, she could—
She looked around the room, everything looked in place but somehow something was off. It was when she heard a slight knock on the door that she realized the reason for her nervousness.
Nicholas, in all his glory was standing in the doorway with tears streaming down his own face. She tried to make words form at her mouth but found that she couldn’t do it. He had something in his hand, although she couldn’t tell what it was, it seemed like a piece of paper. He looked at her and smiled a beautiful smile, almost too beautiful, making her want to pinch herself. Yet she was too transfixed to say anything.
Wordlessly, he walked to the fireplace and threw the paper in, then walked over to her and said, “Tomorrow, we’ll talk tomorrow. I’m sorry.”
She felt like pulling him down into the bed right that instant, but she was still too hurt, too vulnerable from the things he said. He said he didn’t want her. It hurt more than she could imagine, and then he abandoned her. Now he was apologizing, but frankly, it was hardly doing the trick. She crossed her arms and nodded as he left the room.
When the door closed she walked over to the fireplace to look at the burning papers. Maybe it was her dreams, but it appeared that the very papers burning were the annulment papers, which was obviously wishful thinking on her part. She had left them in London with strict instructions to send them off. Had they not done so? Unless someone took them, or maybe Nicholas went and fetched them himself?
It was too much; she was giving herself a headache. She surely wasn’t going to sleep now, but she lay down anyway, for the baby.
Hours later, Sara was so exhausted, her eyelids closed involuntarily. Her only problem was getting comfortable. Earlier she’d been nearly freezing, now it felt as if someone had stuck her in a hot bath tub without an escape, she threw off the covers of her bed or at least tried, but she felt so weak. She panicked when she realized her entire body felt heavy and hot.
She had a fever.
She wasn’t sure how she knew except for the fact that she was burning up inside, and it wasn’t good. To have a high fever during pregnancy wasn’t safe for her or for the baby. She started thinking about her blue-eyed baby and began crying.
Dear God, protect him, protect him. She kept saying over and over again even though she wasn’t even sure it was a boy. The last clear thought she had was of Nicholas putting the annulment papers in the fire. “I love you,” she whispered out loud then fell into a deep, hot sleep.
Nicholas waited for hours the next morning. Every time he asked someone to check on Sara, they just shrugged it off and said it was normal for a woman in her condition to need sleep.
Her condition? What condition would that be? He kept wracking his brain for a reason until he finally found one that made sense. Not that he wanted to acknowledge it. He was just getting ready to pound down to Lady Fenton’s room when he heard sobbing from upstairs.
He ran up just in time for Lady Fenton to fall into his arms. “My God, my God, oh my dear God, I don’t know what to do!” Hysterical, she was pushing Nicholas over the edge of sanity as well.
“What’s wrong?” He shook her shoulders until she finally looked at him with quivering lips.
Her head continued to shake as she spoke, “It’s Sara. She has a fever.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The heart within Nicholas’s chest felt as though it had stopped pumping for a while. Fevers weren’t uncommon, but it was still a scary thought. People died daily of fevers, especially when they let hair-brained physicians bleed them out. He cursed under his breath and burst into the room.
Little Sara was sprawled across the bed with heavy blankets toppling over her. “Take these off!” he ordered the maids. They seemed too scared to move so he did it for them. He pointed to the one closest to him. “Get me some cold water and rags, now!” His voice boomed throughout the house, the maid nearly tripped on her way out.
Nicholas went and put the fire out then opened the window to Sara’s room. She needed fresh air, and he needed to keep her body temperature down; that much was true. He tried to look in control and strong, but he felt like his past was catching up with him.
Hadn’t his first love, the girl he fought for and had Duncan with, hadn’t she died of scarlet fever? Although this was obviously not scarlet fever, it still seemed painfully ironic. He groaned as he pushed the hair from Sara’s face. Her body was soaked with sweat. Had he not seen her merely hours before? He should have stayed with her. Maybe if he would have stayed… Well, if he would have stayed, he might have been sick too. But it should be him in the bed not her; she didn’t deserve this.