Unable to wrap his mind around that fact, he fell back onto the chair.
“Good God,” Rose said, putting her hands to her cheeks and looking entirely unRoselike. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you like that. It must be a terrible shock.”
“You could say that.” He rubbed his face. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
She sat in the chair next to his and angled to face him. “She said she couldn’t. That she couldn’t bear to see the look on your face. Your disappointment.” She put a hand on his. “She loves you.”
“She says she loves Whittingham.”
“Him, too.” Apprehension flooded her eyes. He watched her swallow hard. “Kit, I think you should know…”
“What?” he asked. Whatever it was couldn’t be worse than what he’d already learned.
“Well, rather than disappoint you, she tried to rid herself of the child.”
He couldn’t have heard right. “She what?”
“She took pennyroyal, hoping to bring on her courses. I caught her in time, in the act, and made her bring it back up. Can’t you see that this changes everything? What you wanted for your sister doesn’t matter anymore. Her fate is out of your hands.”
The second half of what she’d said had been lost on him, so appalled was he by the first. “Pennyroyal?” he echoed.
“A midwife told her pennyroyal tea can stimulate the menses. But she used one of my mother’s essential oils. They’re a hundred times or more stronger than the herbs—it was likely to take her life along with the child’s.”
His heart hammering, Kit came halfway off the chair.
She leapt from hers and pushed him back down, looking desperate. “Good God, I said it all wrong again.” Her hands on his shoulders, her dark eyes held his captive. “The doctor said she’s well, and she wasn’t aware of the risks, Kit. I’m certain of it. She thought it would be just like the tea.”
Did he know his sister at all? “Does she not trust me even a little?” That hurt. “That she would do this rather than disappoint me?”
“She wasn’t thinking of it that way. She wasn’t thinking at all.”
“Even so, how could she? How could she kill her child?”
Rose winced. “Please don’t judge her so harshly. She’s hurting and confused. Women rid themselves of unwanted children all the time, for all sorts of reasons.”
“Ellen has no good reason.” His heart was finally slowing. Apparently the danger had passed. “How could she not know I would love her child? This is my sister and my niece or nephew.”
“I know,” she said softly.
Guilt was a vise squeezing his chest. He’d almost lost his sister, his only family. The one person he’d vowed to protect at all costs.
If it hadn’t been for Rose…
She’d saved his sister. Because she was good, because she was caring, because there was a heroic person hiding inside this exasperating woman who insisted she wanted a duke.
His throat tightened, and something twisted around his heart—an unwelcome thrill laced with a flicker of fear. He reached to gather her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his nose in her rose-scented hair.
“Thank you,” he whispered, afraid he’d just fallen in love.
Lust was one thing, love quite another. It scared him to death. He’d wanted her before, yes. Wanted her for her beauty, her refreshing forthright nature, her family’s position in society, her intelligence, her sheer suitability as a wife. And, of course, because she’d made him hotter than the sun in August from the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
But suddenly he wanted her in an entirely different way. The want had turned into need.
He’d been determined to make her fall in love with him, but he hadn’t expected to fall himself. What would he do now if she wouldn’t agree to be his?
Feeling his throat tighten more, he pressed his lips to the top of her head.
“You must let them marry,” she said quietly. “If you have even a glimmer of an idea what they feel for each other, you cannot deny them.”
He had a glimmer, all right. A sudden new glimmer that was frightening as hell. And he loved his sister, and—already—her unborn child. Rose was right: everything had changed, and he hadn’t the will left to deny Ellen and her baby loves of their own.
As long as he could make sure Thomas Whittingham loved them back.
He motioned to the marquetry desk. “Is there paper and quill in there?”
“Yes.” Rose slanted him a look. “Why?”
“I wish to write a letter.”
Her expression made clear she didn’t consider that much of an answer.
“Trust me,” he added. “And fetch Ellen, please.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
KIT’S SISTER looked pale, wan, and frightened when she walked in.
He silently handed her his hastily scribbled missive. As she scanned the single page, her eyes widened. A soft gasp escaped her lips.
“What is it?” Rose asked.
“A letter to Thomas.” Ellen looked up at Kit. “You’re…you’re allowing our marriage?”
“Demanding it,” Kit corrected. “On one condition.”
She swallowed hard, clutching the paper against her middle. “What?”
His gaze flicked down, but there was no sign of her pregnancy. It was too early, he supposed. He might suspect her of fibbing to get her way, but he seriously doubted she’d have risked poisoning herself if she wasn’t actually with child.
“Why?” he asked suddenly. “Why did you try to rid yourself of it?”
Her eyes filled. “I don’t know. I think…I was confused.” She brought her other hand to cover the first. “It seemed as though this child growing inside me had stolen my options—that I needed more time to persuade you, and I feared your wrath, and—” She stared at the floor. “It was wrong, wasn’t it? Very, very wrong.”
“Yes.” Watching a teardrop fall to the polished wood, Kit stepped forward to wrap her in his arms. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed against his chest.
“Don’t you know how much I love you?”
Her arms tightened around him as she raised her tearstained face. “I guess I forgot. I thought only about how
