They were not far from Shewsbury Park when forced to stop again. Nellie climbed out with Charles and Peter to stretch her legs. It was cramped in the coach. She wished she could rest her head on Charles’s shoulder, but even if things were better between them, it would not be seemly in front of their servants.
Returning to the coach, Nellie was aware of a furtive movement as she settled back inside. She glanced at Lilly, who clutched her hands in her lap. Feeley stared intently out the window. Nellie dismissed it as nothing, turning her mind to what awaited them at Shewsbury Park.
*
Charles folded his arms and eyed Feeley with some disfavor. What was he up to? The Irishman couldn’t help himself around a pretty girl. His valet’s bright blue eyes returned his warning glance with a questioning lift of his brows. Charles shrugged inwardly and turned instead to Nellie, a veritable picture in her violet-gray pelisse and high-poke bonnet, the dog in her arms.
He allowed his imagination to create a new picture. Replacing the dog with a baby. His son or daughter. He allowed himself to dwell on that very pleasant outcome and began to think of ways to bring it about. It made for rather distracting daydreaming, and daydreaming it was, for Nellie looked as untouchable as usual. He admitted his pride had made things worse, but Nellie’s failure to take him at his word had brought him low. His feelings were too raw to put into words.
Disgruntled by the state of affairs, he watched the passing landscape for familiar landmarks. He wouldn’t beg his wife if she didn’t want him. Ah, the coach began to climb the steep hill. The one he’d skied down in winter and rode dangerously fast down on his first horse. From the top, it offered an excellent view of his estate.
Aware he was remiss, he offered Nellie a warm smile. “Almost home.”
Her lips trembled into a smile. Was she uneasy about what awaited them? Mother! Fear struck at him again like a knife. Dear Lord! She must not be desperately ill. Jason was inclined to exaggerate.
As soon as they arrived, Charles went straight up to see his mother in the bedchamber she now occupied, after she was moved back from the dower house. He fought to hide his reaction to finding her considerably changed. So thin! She barely lifted her head from the pillow. His heart thumped, and he swallowed the lump in his throat as he took the chair beside her bed. “How are you, Mama?” he asked, using his childhood name for her he now considered himself too old to employ.
“I cannot look well if you call me Mama,” she said with a faint smile.
“Nonsense. You look far too well to be languishing in bed. What does the physician say?”
She clutched the sheet. “He wishes to bleed me again.”
Charles reached for her hand. He felt the tension as he pressed a kiss to the pale skin threaded with blue veins. “I shall consult the doctor. And speak to Jason.”
“They have gone to church,” she said reprovingly.
“So the butler tells me. I am remiss, but I was eager to see you.”
She nodded. “You are forgiven, dear boy. How are you? You look tired.”
“Just the trip, Mother, I am fine.”
She gazed at him shrewdly. He could almost see the questions ticking over in her mind. “How is Nellie?”
It pleased him that his mother called her Nellie. “She is extremely well. Concerned about you, naturally.”
“Tell her to come and see me. But not for a few hours. I slept badly last night and need to rest.” She closed her eyes.
His tread heavy with despair, Charles left the room.
Nellie hovered in the corridor. Her lovely eyes were clouded with worry. “How is she?”
He opened his mouth, but to his distress, only a slight groan emerged. “Not well,” he managed to utter. Tears flooded his eyes. Afraid he looked like a weakling, he attempted to push past her.
Nellie put out a hand to stop him. She took his arm. “Come to my bedchamber. We can talk there.”
Chapter Twenty-One
In Nellie’s bedchamber, Charles fell into a chair and passed a hand over his eyes. The surge of love and compassion she felt for him tightened Nellie’s throat and rendered her silent. She had come to recognize the rigid control he kept over himself at such times. Her vision blurred with tears, which she quickly dashed away. She wanted to be strong for him. And she would not allow him to shut her out. The past didn’t matter. Not even her fear that he didn’t love her.
“Darling, what is it?” Finding her voice, she kneeled beside his chair and rested her head against his thigh. She refused to withhold her love from him.
His hand smoothed over her hair, his eyes dark and miserable. “Nellie,” he said softly. “I’ve missed you. So much.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she murmured, a catch in her voice.
She climbed to her feet and held out her hand to him. “Come and lie down with me.”
“On the Sabbath?” A sensual smile lit his eyes. There was the man she’d fallen in love with. With one look, he could make her weak with wanting, but she wished now only to hold him in her arms.
She managed a tremulous smile. “I don’t recall it worrying you in the past. But I mean only to offer you comfort.”
His eyes held a gleam. “And while that is a most appealing offer, it’s best I don’t risk it.” He reached for her hand and drew her down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, his warm breath feathering her cheek. “Nellie,” he said softly. “Just let me hold you.” She leaned into him, listening to the
