Chapter Nine

Warrington, Cheshire

Five days later

 

Joanna’s physical condition improved enough that Preston regretted having sent for Cornelia. He could have allowed her to return to London as planned and then broached the fact that he was now responsible for producing an heir. As it was, they would have to discuss the matter as guests in his brother’s home, and Cornelia would be under considerable pressure to reassure their hosts that she would do her duty to the viscountcy. 

He slammed a fist on the marble mantelpiece. What was he thinking? They had agreed to a marriage of convenience, to live their lives apart, to protect each other from the incessant demands of their loved ones to marry and settle down. He had no right to expect anything more from her, no matter the change in circumstances. He would have to take care—when he broke the news to her—not to phrase it in a manner that would make her feel obligated to make theirs a true marriage. While he would like nothing better than to have Cornelia as a true wife, the last thing he wanted was to make her feel she had no other choice.

In the end, though, neither of them would have a choice. He had to have an heir. His brother knew that he would always ensure the care of Joanna and the children. But their cousin John would throw them out without a moment’s hesitation.

William strode into the room. “Why so glum? Your wife is due any moment. You are still newlyweds, after all. I remember when Joanna and I—” The sound of dogs barking and wheels turning over the gravel drive cut him off. “That must be your wife now.” William turned on his heel and started for the door. “I had better inform Joanna.”

* * *

The journey to Cheshire seemed endless. When it wasn’t raining—which it did during most daylight hours—the gray sky and bleak countryside mirrored Cornelia’s grim spirits. Her maid’s inane chatter gave her a headache that would not be cured, and the dips in the muddy road made it impossible to sleep. Innkeepers and serving staff did not seem inclined to extend to her the same deference as before, when her husband accompanied her. She and Norton took to having their meals in their cramped rooms rather than endure the leers of other patrons in the taproom. On several occasions, she found herself having to dispute charges when some insolent rogue tried to overcharge her.

All in all, she missed having a husband to travel with. Truthfully, she missed Preston.

He was witty and charming and full of stories from his adventures on the Continent that kept her enthralled or laughing uncontrollably, and sometimes both. He noticed things that other people missed—no doubt, a skill that served him well during his undercover service—and at the same time he wanted to hear what she had to say, about her life, her family, her work with the Foundling Hospital, books, politics, anything she wanted to share. Warmth and sincerity shone in his eyes when he looked at her, and as their honeymoon progressed, she thought—imagined—there was something more than friendship in them.

Knowing that he would be leaving soon for India, and that she had no business falling in love with an absent husband, she had hurriedly organized a trip to Hampshire to visit Frederica and her new baby. But it was too late. As delighted as she was to see her old friend again, she found herself longing for Preston, and soon had to come to terms with the fact that she had fallen in love with him. Who would not? Preston was imminently lovable.

How foolish she had been to believe she could solve her problems by entangling herself in a pretend marriage without expecting some sort of consequence.

Passing through Stretton, where they had spent their wedding night, the time for reflection ended. Only a few short miles lay between her and Warrington Manor, and Cornelia would have to face her future. Not just hers, though, but Preston’s, and his family’s, as well. She sat straight in her seat and considered what she would say when she rejoined them.

What could one say to a woman who had not only lost a child, but failed at what many would say was a woman’s most important duty: producing an heir for her husband? Enlightened men would not blame their wives for a twist of fate so completely outside their control, but the woman likely would. The only thing Cornelia could think to say that might make Joanna feel better was something she could not say.

It isn’t your fault, Joanna. You’re not alone.  Responsibility for the title no longer rests on your shoulders alone.  I cannot promise I can succeed, but I will do my best to assure your future and the future of your children.

Telling her the truth wasn’t an option, either.

* * *

Preston stood at the front steps when the carriage pulled up to the door. He watched eagerly for a glimpse of Cornelia’s face through the window, instantly aware of how much he had missed her. While he wasn’t looking forward to the difficult conversation ahead of them, his heart raced in anticipation of having her near him once again.

He opened the carriage door and put down the steps, wholly intending to help her down in a dignified manner, but when he offered his arm, she lost her balance and fell into his embrace, her breasts crushed against his chest.

She stared up at him, wide-eyed.  “I tripped.”

He smiled down at her. “So I see.”

“I believe you can put me down, sir.”

He lifted a brow. “Are you certain it is safe?”

She drew in a deep breath that lifted her breasts over her bodice enough to send his heart into erratic rhythms.

“I believe so.” She blushed charmingly. “But it is rather nice to have you there to catch me.”

“My pleasure entirely.” He set her down carefully.

Memories of all the times he had helped her out of the carriage to observe a particularly beautiful prospect or to search for a pleasant site for a picnic flooded him, easing the anxiety that knotted his belly.

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. “How fares Joanna? You said in your note that she was improving, but that was ages ago.”

Preston’s chest tightened. “She is better, although she hovered at death’s door for several days. William has been frantic with worry. I have never seen him so desperate. He still worries. Joanna has some ways to go before she is fully recovered.” He hesitated. “But Cornelia, there is something—”

“Cornelia.” William emerged from the house. “How wonderful to see you again.”

Cornelia faced him. “Thank you, William. I am happy to see you, as well. I-I am sorry about the trouble you have had. Preston tells me Joanna is recovering, though? I have been greatly worried since I received his note.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for your kindness. My wife is improved.” His expression clouded. “There was a time when we thought— Well, happily, we did not have to deal with the worst possible outcome. Do come in, my dear. Joanna bade me bring you to her right away, so eager she is to see you.”

“We will talk later,” Preston whispered as they followed William into the house.

Cornelia nodded grimly. Had she guessed about Joanna’s situation? Oh, how he wished they could speak privately. He took a deep breath and attempted to rein in his apprehension.

* * *

Cornelia caught sight of Joanna, sitting on the terrace next to a table with a pitcher of lemonade and a filled glass in front of her. Wrapped in a thick blanket, her face, thin and gaunt, had dark circles under her eyes. She was the farthest thing possible from the happy, effervescent woman Cornelia had met a few weeks earlier.

Cornelia hurried to Joanna’s side. Cornelia knelt and grasped both her hands. “I heard about the babe. I’m so very sorry.”

Joanna’s slight frame seemed to shrink as her head slumped to her chest. “It was a boy,” she sobbed. “An heir, at last.”

Cornelia’s throat constricted. What could she say? Nothing would help. “I am sorry,” she said with a sympathetic glance at both Joanna and William. “I am so glad Preston sent for me. I know things look black for you now, but you will get better. I will remain by your side as long as it takes to nudge you back to health. Preston too,” she said, with a nod in his direction. “We are family, and that is what family does for each other.”

For an instant, Joanna’s eyes filled with hope, and Cornelia drew her into a gentle embrace. When she drew back, Preston shoved a chair to Joanna’s right, and Cornelia sat in the chair to her left. Preston remained standing, like a hawk ready to swoop.

“Forgive me, Cornelia,” Joanna whispered. “I did not wish to discomfit you by turning morbid so soon after your arrival. It’s just that—well, seeing you so vigorous and healthy—” She burst into fresh tears and accepted the handkerchief Cornelia offered her. Joanna dabbed at her eyes. “I shan’t be having any more children, you see.”

Cornelia didn’t flutter an eyelash. Here it comes. She handed Joanna the glass of lemonade sitting in front of her and urged her to drink. “Remember, you have three very delightful daughters.”

“Aunt Cornelia!” With perfect timing, the three girls burst from the house, followed by their governess.

“We heard the servants bringing up your trunks, and when the children went to the window and saw their uncle’s carriage—” The governess shrugged.

Cornelia rose to embrace her nieces.

 

Twenty minutes later, when William insisted that Joanna retire for a nap, Preston said, “Cornelia, perhaps you would like a rest, as well?”

She nodded, and kissed each of the girls, then left them with the governess and allowed Preston to lead her into the house.

In the hallway, out of earshot, Preston said, “I am sorry, I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone but me.”

She nodded. “I know.”

His mouth fell open. “You knew?”

They reached the stairs and started up. “I suspected. Your note did sound rather desperate. I suspected she might have incurred some sort of damage in the process.”

He shook his head. “We were overwhelmed with fear that she might not survive. William stayed by her side night and day, and I tried to keep the girls occupied.”

Cornelia squeezed his hand. “It must have seemed an eternity. Only imagine how dreadful it would have been for the entire family had she not survived—leaving William alone with the little girls.”

They reached her bedchamber and he paused outside the door, focusing his gaze on her eyes. “I always assumed my older brother could withstand anything, but now I see that he is as vulnerable as the rest of us. He’d never be the same without Joanna, and the girls without their… It is unfathomable.”

He swallowed and continued on in a husky tone. “Cornelia, I—. For the first time, I recognized my responsibility to my family. They need me. I suppose they always have, but I was always too busy pursuing my own selfish whims to see it.”

Cornelia tilted her head up and kissed him on the cheek. “We must talk, Preston. Would you like to come in?”

He hesitated. “Thank you, but tea will be served shortly, and I know how weary you must be from your travels. Perhaps we can walk to the folly after tea. We should not be interrupted there, unless it rains.”

She chuckled. “No talk of rain, please! We have suffered its ill-effects for nearly the entire journey. Since it hardly rained at all on our previous trip, I must conclude that it was your presence that made the difference.”

“Since we have been plagued with incessant rains here as well, I would guess that it is our presence together that brings out the sun.”

He leaned in, kissed her briefly on the mouth, then bowed and crossed to his bedchamber across the hall.