Trey ran his fingers through his wife’s silky blond waves, then lifted her silver-backed brush and began stroking the length of her hair from her head to the ends. It was something he’d loved doing since the night they were married. He wasn’t sure why, but performing this one task relaxed him. And he didn’t think his wife objected. After the day he had, he needed to wind down. He’d felt like a tightly coiled spring for the past two weeks.

He’d ridden the last twenty or so miles on horseback. Their coach broke an axle just outside of Gainsborough. The roads had been horrible the entire way. Granted, they were drying out, but most of the roadbeds had been destroyed by the freezing ground and traffic as the ground thawed. And, curiously, while his thigh hurt some, it wasn’t as bad as it had been in the past when he’d ridden any distance. He counted himself lucky. It could have been worse. His coach could be in worse shape, and his leg could pain him more.

He considered how to reply to her question and decided that all discussion of the orphans in Scotland could wait until the following day, as he really was exhausted from travel. Tomorrow he would be more composed and able to focus on something other than the fact that he would soon be in bed with this incredibly beautiful woman who was the light of his heart.

“Aside from it taking nearly two weeks to return to your side, it was… Productive. I got the answers I sought initially, though they weren’t the answers I wanted. Then later, I found a surprise blessing in the ice storm that occurred the night before I was scheduled to leave.”

“Oh? What was the blessing?” Her smile alone made the dim dressing room brilliant and warm.

“I saw a friend of mine from the war. He is now residing in Scotland, as he married a lass whose father founded a distillery.” He said the words he’d practiced so quickly that it didn’t appear as though he’d rehearsed his tale. “We were both trapped in Edinburgh, so we reacquainted ourselves and caught up with what has been going on in our lives.” He continued stroking her silky hair with the brush as he spoke.

“Malcolm Graham is married, has three sons, and his wife is carrying again.”

Their eyes met in the mirror, and Caroline smiled. “His wife is probably praying for a daughter this time. Am I right?”

Trey hoped she could still smile like this after he told her about the real reason for the trip to Edinburgh, and what he discovered. Tomorrow was soon enough to reveal it all. “That is exactly what he said.”

“Well, I shall say a prayer for her later. I hope she has her daughter.”

“I’m sure Graham and his wife would appreciate that.” He resumed the brushing, but thoughts of her possible reaction to the girls were weighing on him. The logical part of him, the side that had known Caroline for three years, knew she would never intentionally reject or turn her heart from a child in need. This just happened to be seven of them.

Caroline put her hand over his and stilled the brush. “What is wrong, sweetheart?”

Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. She was a sensitive woman, she knew his moods—and he couldn’t tell her anything just yet.

“Nothing is wrong,” he reassured her. “I am just tired from twelve days of very slow-going travel and muddy roads. At times, I had to walk alongside the horses to lighten the load some because we were making so little progress, the mud was axle deep in places and it caked up in the wheels.”

She nodded and rose. “It has been a long three and a half weeks without you. I have missed you terribly.” She cuddled into his chest and he inhaled the scent of her, finding comfort in her arms—the arms of this child-woman who knew nothing but compassion and love. “Let us get into bed, because I, too, am tired. And, I haven’t been feeling the best lately.”

His head snapped up and he held her face still so he could read her eyes. He’d know if she were hiding something. She couldn’t lie to him, her blue eyes would give it away. It was one of the things he found most endearing about her personality. She would say nothing rather than tell you an untruth. “What is the matter? Is it anything to worry over?”

She smiled and he exhaled in relief. “No. I’ve just had a touch of the stomach upset.” She went on to tell him how she’d gone to visit a neighbor who’d been feeling unwell. “And I think I might have caught what she had,” she concluded.

“You’re certain there is nothing else?” he asked. “Nothing more serious that you are hiding?” From the moment he’d met her, she’d rarely been sick a day. His wife loved the outdoors, and walking with him was something she enjoyed doing with him. An ill Caroline was not something he was familiar with. He wouldn’t know what to do.

Caroline laughed. “Of course not.” She turned her back to him and asked him to unlace the back of her gown. He helped her remove her many layers and put her dressing robe on over her naked body. The entire time he fought the urge to kiss the bare flesh as he revealed it. He wanted to kiss the tips of her breasts because he knew it would arouse her, and trail his lips lower, going down her belly, until he found that moist treasure hidden under her woman’s curls and between the folds of her nether lips.

But there would time for that in the morning. Before he told her what he’d learned from Dr. Drake.

“Let’s sleep,” he said, a yawn forcing its way up. “For tonight, I just want to hold you.” He tugged at his coat sleeves and Caroline helped him get the thing off. “Tomorrow though, be warned, for I will devour every delectable inch of your very delectable body.”

“I look forward to that, husband.” He watched her walk toward the bed they shared, and as she did, he reminded himself again what an incredibly lucky man he was.

Much later, when she turned in her sleep to face away, he pulled her closer and nestled behind her, cradling her in his arms. It was, he decided, the most perfect and right thing in the world to have her here this way, with him. He would do everything he could to make her understand that he had not known for certain that he could not give her children. He suspected, because of something he thought he heard as he was coming out from the pain haze he’d been under when the surgeon had sewed him back together. But no one had ever said definitively, and until recently, the human eye could not see the sperm cells that create life. That was a very recent advancement in biological research.

Now, he knew for certain, because he’d seen the doctor in Edinburgh. And while there was nothing at all he could do to regain the ability to sire children, he did want to discuss adoption with her.

For some reason, he didn’t think she would object to it. After, of course, she got over the pain of being unable to have their own child.

Trey awoke shortly after sunrise to the sound of his wife retching in her dressing room. He quickly threw his robe on and went to see her kneeling on the floor before a large bowl, her long blonde hair tied behind her head. Her maid whispered to her to drink something from a tea cup. “It will make you feel better, you know it.”

“Caroline, are you worse?” He had no idea she was this sick. She said it was nothing, that she was getting better. If that’s so, why is she…

His wife’s eyes grew wide as both she and her maid turned to see him watching them.

She shook her head, and wiped her mouth. “Please… Go. I’ll be out in a few minutes. I’m still feeling a bit queasy. Nelly will help me through it.”

“Have you seen a doctor, Caroline? Perhaps I should send for…”

“No!” She sat back on her heels and dropped her head onto her lap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. Really, Trey, I’ll be fine. I just need to get over this.”

“Nelly,” he said, “tell me now, how long has this been going on?” He didn’t want to frighten the woman, but he thought his wife might be hiding something.

“Just the past three or four days, after she returned from visiting Mrs. Locke.”

“Maybe we should call the physician to come out.”

“No, I’m already getting better and Mrs. Locke is well now. She said it would only last a few days.”

“Caroline,” he pled with her, fearing not getting a doctor out soon enough leading to his wife getting worse. “Please. I cannot bear it if something were to happen to you.”

“Trey, I’m fine.” She sat back on her heels. “I will be out in a few minutes.”

Reluctantly—very reluctantly—he walked back into her bedroom, the room they decided long ago they would share. He raked his hands through his brown curls, pulling the hair. Other than vomiting she looked fine. He’d held her through the night and she wasn’t feverish. Perhaps she was telling him the truth.

But what if she wasn’t? He couldn’t lose her. He loved her. More than his own life, he loved her.

It was just like her to take soup to a neighbor who was feeling sick, but he didn’t want her doing it again because it put her at risk of catching something. He was going to have to put his foot down on this. Living with her anger was far easier than living without her.

God, he was a selfish son of a bitch, wasn’t he? When did he become so possessive of, and dependent on his wife? She’d changed him. Slowly, over the few years since he’d met her she’d changed him into something he’d never thought would happen, especially since he’d come home from the war.

A man in love.

Probably about the same time he realized he’d done her a disservice by marrying her, even though she’d told him before the wedding that she wanted children because of her lonely childhood. Lots of children. And he’d suspected he might not be able to give them to her, and he married her anyway. Whenever the thought she might leave him because of his failure crossed his mind, he became a stranger to himself. This unhappy, worrisome, possessive, and dependent wretch of man.

He had to talk to her, explain what he’d done, and pray she forgave him.

As soon as she came in from the dressing room, he would do it. He needed her to know why he feared for her. He’d been beyond lucky to find Caroline. He didn’t think she’d would have married him if he couldn’t give her what her heart most wanted. Possessive bastard he was, he couldn’t leave her to find her happiness in the arms of another.

When she reentered the bedroom, Trey was seated on the edge of the chaise before the fire, waiting for her, wondering what he was going to say. She’d changed gowns, and put her warm robe and slippers on.

God help him, he loved her. His wife was sick, and he worried for her. He stood and she saw him and smiled. He held out a hand to her and she changed direction, stepping into his embrace.

“Come, let’s sit before the fire,” he said. “I stoked it and added the remaining coal, so we will be toasty warm for hours.”

He brought her down onto his lap as he sat on the chaise again. He lifted the blanket he’d pulled off the bed and wrapped it around her.

Caroline pressed her cheek to his chest, the sensation reinforcing his desire to protect her, and if she was truly ill, he wanted a physician to see her. He couldn’t lose her. She raised her head and looked into his eyes. “Trey, what has you in such a mood? You have been a bit… depressed for weeks now,” she said. “I would like to know why? It began before you went to Scotland, so it’s not something recent, but I cannot put my finger on what has triggered this darkness for you.”

Trey released a deep sigh and stroked the hair at her temple while gazing into her eyes. He tucked the strands of silken blonde hair behind her ear on one side and she smiled at him.

“You’re right, I have been feeling a bit—” He reminded himself that she deserved the truth. Now. He’d been cowardly long enough. “—A bit inadequate as,” he paused again, “as a husband.”

“I don’t know why.” She snuggled into his robe-covered chest again. Her warm breath sending shivers through his body. His wife had no idea of the effect she had on him. “I have been more than satisfied with our marriage. I try to make a point to tell you how happy I am and how much I love you daily.”

“You do, my darling. You do.” God help him, how did he begin? “And I love you so much, that the thought of a future without you in it frightens me.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about there, as I don’t plan on ever leaving you.”

His wife was like sun. She didn’t know how not to shine. Didn’t know how not to love completely. He was ashamed of his actions. All done because he wanted her and no other.

“I don’t deserve you, sweetheart. Truly, I don’t.” If she left him after learning the truth, would it be any more than he deserved? He hugged her tight to him, as if were he to let go of her she might flee. Of course, he would never let that happen. He couldn’t live without her.

He released her to sit upright on his lap so he could face her as he began to tell her of his concern about being sterile, his reason for believing it, and the real reason he went to Scotland. When he told her what Doctor Drake said, she turned paler and greener than she’d been when heaving her guts up in the dressing room earlier. She scrambled from his lap taking the blanket with her, and she began to pace back and forth across the length of her suite. Occasionally she’d stop to take deep breaths, and he feared for her hyperventilating or fainting. She’d never been sick before and he was worried something more severe than a simple stomach upset was going on.

“Caroline, we need to get a physician here. You’re not well.” He went to her side, wanting to carry her back to the bed.

She put her hand out to stop him, and shook her head in the negative. He sat on the edge of the chaise and watched her carefully so he could catch her if she fainted. Her breathing was measured and rhythmic, as though she fought back another wave of nausea.

“Why…” He watched as she battled her sickness. When it appeared she had composed herself, she continued. “Why didn’t you tell me this before we married?”

“Because I am a selfish bastard.” He told her the truth. Anything less would perpetuate a deception he no longer wanted. “And I wanted you more than anything in the world.”

“And this doctor told you it was highly unlikely, did he?”

Her words were like salt pouring into the gaping wound that was his soul. When he nodded, she began to laugh. Laugh hysterically. She laughed so hard that she collapsed to her knees before him, dropped her head into his burgundy velvet-clad lap and proceeded to throw up again—on his lap.

Frozen in place, he feared moving. The smelly liquid that she’d just drunk just a few minutes earlier made him feel nauseous as well. He wanted to spring up, run to the dressing room and yank off the robe. But his wife needed him.

She was laughing maniacally and dry heaving in turns. He had no idea what to do, how to give her the help she so desperately needed. So he stroked her back. He didn’t know if he should continue to tell her what had happened in Scotland or not. She wasn’t taking this first part of his tale very well, so rather than continue digging his grave, he instead he told her everything was going to be fine.

He should have known better that to tell her. Ignorance was bliss. Damn his hide for thinking she deserved to know. She was too young to handle news of this sort.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I…” And the laughter began again. Then the tears. “I…” The thought went unfinished as she began to hiccup.

“Shhh,” he said. “It’s okay. The dressing gown can be washed.”

She pulled away from him to curl up into a ball on the carpet. And cried. He took the opportunity and ran to the dressing room, quickly found and changed into his banyan and returned to her side. He lifted her from the floor and carried her to the bed.

He tried to climb onto the bed to lie next to her, but she stopped him with a hand.

“Please, may I be alone for a while. I want to rest.” His heart fell into his gut. She no longer wanted him.

Well, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to lose her because of this. He loved her. How could he make it through the rest of his life if she left him?

“I will rest with you,” he said, a lump forming in his throat. He squashed the emotion. He needed to be with her, so he could head off any thought of leaving. And he had to make it up to her. It was all his fault.

“No. I want to be alone.”

She’d never rejected him before. A good, thoughtful husband would go to his own rooms and leave her be. But he already knew he wasn’t any of that. He was a possessive bastard who wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. Starting with calling the doctor for her illness.

“I’m not going to let you leave, Caroline. I will not allow it.” His words sounded harsh, even to his own ears, but he wanted her to know he was still committed to being her husband. “You’re unwell and we need the physician.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need the doctor,” she insisted, then returned back to the earlier subject. “Did you know this when we married?”

“I suspected, but did not know for certain.” He didn’t exactly lie to her, except to perhaps not share his concern that he might be sterile. She was sick, and needed a doctor. “Caroline, you’re—”

“And you didn’t think I had a right to know?” Her tone was growing more agitated and angry as their conversation went on.

She was accusing him of deceiving her, and in a way, he had. He felt guilty as hell about it, but he’d wanted her. Had fallen in love with her beauty and grace, and soft-spoken intelligence. She epitomized everything he’d ever dreamed of in a wife.

“I have loved you from the moment we met,” he said. “And I didn’t want to lose you to another. Yes, I should have told you the the truth, and because I didn’t, I am sorry. I was an ass.”

Trey turned to go back to his room, doing as his wife asked and leaving her in peace for a while. They could talk more later, after she was feeling better.

Caroline began to laugh again. “Stop, Trey.” She caught a breath. “I have— have something to tell you.”

He turned, and took a step closer to her, hopeful that she would invite him back to her bed so he could hold her to him, and cling to her strength and warmth. Because without her, he just a cold, empty vessel of a man.

“After you left for Edinburgh, I asked my mother why I never had siblings.” She held up a hand to stop him from coming closer. Obviously what she wanted to say was important. “She said that she’d suffered several miscarriages. That she’d wanted more children, but it was not to be.” She leaned forward and sat cross-legged on the bed. “I think that’s why she never let me out of her sight after I was born. She was afraid of something happening to me.

“Mama said it was quite likely that I might have the same issue, since her mother had the same problems. So I called for a midwife to consult. Mrs. Metcalfe said we will never know if those times I was late with my monthly flux, that I was not in fact having a miscarriage, as it was so very early in a possible pregnancy.”

It tore at his conscience that she still wanted to remain hopeful. And while he did too, he also knew what the specialist in Edinburgh had told him. “Dr. Drake is an expert in this field, and he has assured me that it is not likely, sweetheart.”

“Go into my center desk drawer in my morning room. There you will find a Valentine letter I have written to you. You can read it there if you’d like, or bring it here. I know it’s a day early, but… I feel you need to read it now.”

Trey went down the hall to his wife’s morning room. He walked into the bright, cheery room and immediately caught a whiff of her perfume lingering in the upholstery. It made him smile. This was the place where she conducted the business of the household and their social calendar. Her furniture was very feminine, of the French provincial style, whitewashed with gilt accents, and her drapes were a pale pink and gold, to match the pink and gold pattern woven into her hand-tied Persian rug. It was her private domain. If she left him to return to her parents, he’d never be able to live in this house. He would leave it, and all of his memories here.

He opened the center desk drawer and saw her sealed letter to him, and took it. He debated whether to open it and read it now, but decided just before he broke the seal to get his letter to her from his bedroom. Trey wanted to give her the letter he’d written, so they could read them together.

Trey hoped she wasn’t so angry with him for his actions that she refused to consider adopting the seven sisters.

With a letter in each hand, he re-entered Caroline’s room and approached the bed.

“May I?” He wanted her permission to sit on the bed while they read their letters. She motioned for him to have a seat and he handed her his letter. “I thought we could read them at the same time.”

He waited until she opened his and began reading, before he broke the seal on hers. He lifted the single, folded page of scented paper to his face and breathed in the perfume she’d used on it. It was his favorite scent of hers, a light rose musk that she had made for her. He remembered telling her one afternoon while they walked in Hyde Park that he found it arousing. She’d given him a little smile, and with a mischievous glint in her eyes, said she was glad that he liked it.

He smiled and lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were filled with tears that had yet to spill over and his heart ached for the pain he had caused her.

He unfolded the single page and read her words, and suddenly his entire world was upended. As if he felt like he’d been punched in the gut by a man twice his size then had the rug yanked out from under him. He was swimming in a whirlpool of ice water and walking through flames all at the same time. And at last, her behavior of fifteen minutes earlier made sense. He began to laugh. Laugh so hard tears rolled down his face.

He wiped them away and waited for Caroline who was still reading his multiple-page letter. He re-read her words to him, words he would always remember. Her elegant script was a blur this second time around.

My dearest husband,

You are the best investment I have ever made. And if I’m not mistaken, I will show a return on this investment soon, with a precious little dividend arriving in mid-August.

Love,

Your Caroline