Chapter 9
As she had every morning for the past fortnight, Hester awoke with the overwhelming need to cast up her accounts.
Rolling from her bed, she stumbled to the chamber pot and proceeded to do precisely that. The next hour until dawn was marred by more of the same.
“Milady,” her abigail murmured. “I’ve set out some weak tea and toast.”
“Thank you.”
“Maybe if you tell his lordship you’re with child,” Sarah ventured softly, “he’ll mend his ways.”
Hester looked at the maid with tear-blurred eyes, her chest heaving from her exertions. “Tell no one.”
“Until you give me leave, milady, I won’t tell a soul.”
Pressing a damp cloth to her forehead, Hester allowed her tears to flow unchecked. During the early years of her marriage, there was nothing she’d desired more than a child to complete the joy she’d found with Edward. But God was kinder than she knew by withholding His blessings. When the darker aspects of Edward’s character became apparent, she’d begun to use sponges soaked in brandy to prevent conception. She couldn’t bring an innocent into her household the way it was now. After all that she and Jessica had endured as children, how could she possibly subject her own child to such a life?
But Regmont was not one to postpone his lusts until expected evening hours, and fate had its own designs.
“If only you were here, Jess,” she whispered, selfishly longing for a sympathetic and knowing ear to listen to and advise her. She’d suspected she was enceinte before her sister departed, but could find no way to share the news. Jessica was deeply pained by her barrenness. It was impossible for Hester to lament a pregnancy that would have brought her sister endless joy.
When Hester struggled to her feet, Sarah assisted her back to bed. Regmont slept on in his room, blessedly oblivious.
“I pray you tell his lordship soon,” the abigail whispered, arranging the pillows for Hester’s comfort.
Closing her eyes, Hester heaved a sigh. “I believe part of his affliction is me, and I don’t know how to address that. Why else would the men in my life battle such demons?”
But when she saw Edward at the dining table a few hours later, her husband looked far from afflicted. Indeed, he looked extremely fit. His smile was bright and his spirits high. He kissed her cheek when she moved to pass him en route to her chair.
“Kippers and eggs?” he queried before walking over to the row of covered platters on the buffet.
Her stomach roiled. “No, thank you.”
“You don’t eat enough, darling,” he admonished.
“I took toast in my room.”
“But you join me for breakfast anyway.” His smile was glorious. “You are too wonderful. How was your evening?”
“Unexceptional, but enjoyable all the same.”
She almost dreaded these moments of normalcy. The pretense that all was right in their world, that no malevolence lurked in the darkness, that he was a wonderful husband and she a contented wife. It was like staring at a box one knew would burst open at some point and not knowing if the surprise would be terrifying or not. There was agony in the waiting.
Her gaze strayed and moved around the room. Their home was lauded by friends for its bright cheery colors, such as the soft cream and bright blue vertical stripes she’d used on the walls of the dining room. They’d purchased the town house just before their wedding; it was to have been a fresh beginning for both of them, a place free of any taint of the past. But now she knew how futile that hope had been. The taint was on them … in them, and they carried it with them wherever they went.
“I shared a drink with Tarley last night,” Regmont said between bites. “He was seeking refuge from the debutantes. The strain of being hunted is beginning to take its toll, I suspect.”
Hester looked at him. The tempo of her heartbeat changed, increasing inexplicably. “Oh?”
“I remember those days well. You saved me in more ways than you know, my love. I’m providing assistance to Tarley via a release of tension. He learned of my interest in pugilism, and we’ve agreed to a match.”
Dear God. She knew well how swiftly Regmont could move and how relentless he could become. He couldn’t tolerate losing; it exacerbated his already overwhelming feelings of insecurity. Her stomach knotted further. “A match? Between the two of you?”
“Would you happen to know how skilled he is in the sport?”
She shook her head. “He sparred with Alistair Caulfield in our youth. That’s all I know of his interest. He and I were close once, but I’ve seen little of him since you and I wed.”
“A wager easily won, then.”
“Perhaps you might suggest he consider a less learned opponent?”
He grinned. “You fear for him, do you?”
“Jessica thinks very highly of him,” she prevaricated.
“Everyone does, so I gather. No need for concern, love. It’s all in good fun, I assure you.” Glancing at one of the two footmen standing at the ready, he said, “Lady Regmont will take buttered toast and jam.”
She sighed, resigning herself to eating whether she wanted to or not.
“You look pale this morn,” he noted. “Did you not sleep well?”
“Well enough.” Hester reached for one of the day’s papers that lay on the table by her elbow. She was thrown unaccountably out of sorts by the thought of Michael fighting Regmont, especially when his motivation might be aggravation over choosing a proper wife. In that respect, she could be of more assistance than her husband. There was very little she didn’t know about the women of the ton, from the most established matrons to the newest debutantes. Perhaps he would accept her help.
It would do her heart much good to see him content with his lot. He certainly deserved happiness.
Regmont set his silverware atop his empty plate. “I should very much enjoy squiring you about the Park this afternoon. Tell me you don’t have other plans.”
If she had, she knew to cancel them. When Edward wanted her time, he expected to have it. She was his wife, after all. His. Irrevocably owned until death parted them.
Looking up from her paper, she managed a smile. “A lovely thought, my lord. Thank you.”
There might come a moment this day when she could share the news that she was breeding. Outside in the sunshine, surrounded by the peers he so wished to impress, might be the perfect time and place to present the opportunity of a new beginning for them both.
She hoped so. Maybe there was a miracle in that as well—sometimes, she still had hope. She couldn’t afford not to have it. There was no other way out.