The Last Duchess (The Lennox Series)(36)

She laughed, well pleased, it appeared. “It’s a necessity when dealing with Blix, you’ll soon find.” Rising from the chair, she crossed the room and embraced Jane. “I foresee you and he will be supremely happy.” She leaned back and grasped Jane’s shoulders, her expression now quite serious. “But it will take much courage on your part. I beg you not to lose faith, and please, if you ever feel the need for a friendly face who well understands your dilemma, you’ve only to send for me. I expect you to visit me as well, Jane.” She dropped her arms and looped one through Jane’s, to walk with her to the door. “I’ll leave you now and go and say goodbye to Blix and your family.” She looked askance at her. “It must have been . . . interesting, growing up in a houseful of males, all of them, shall we say, rather overtly masculine?”

“Indeed,” she agreed before she impulsively pressed a kiss to Lucy’s cheek. “All the more reason for my appreciation of you. How dear you are to counsel me.”

Smiling warmly, Lucy grasped her hand and squeezed. “Goodbye, Jane. Do have a lovely honeymoon and write when you can.”

“Yes, I will. Goodbye, Lucy.” She watched her slip from the room then turned to gather up her reticule, her mind turning as she faced a different dilemma than what she’d originally thought. He was not so much afraid of losing her in childbed as he was simply afraid to let her too close. She’d thought that once she became pregnant, was delivered of a child, and recovered nicely, Blixford would come around. Now, she saw that she was wrong.

Still, she couldn’t regret marrying him, even if the necessity of doing so was a bit of a mystery to her. She’d determined she didn’t love him, but there was something about Blixford she couldn’t ignore, as if he had that which she needed desperately. Just what it was, she had no idea. She’d returned home to marry him, and so it was done. Whatever the future held in store, she would face it and make the most of it.

Beginning right now.

With a light step, she took one last look around her bedchamber to ensure she hadn’t left anything of import, then went out into the hallway. She heard voices raised and wondered what was afoot.

At the top of the stairs, she looked down into the front hall and was immediately dizzy.

Blixford stood there, just inside the front door, embracing his mistress, who sobbed uncontrollably. Sherbourne was shouting, as were James and Jack. Lucy stood by, her face pale, her lips trembling.

It appeared, from what she could glean from the shouts and the mistress’s wailing voice, that she was expecting Blixford’s child, that she expected him to marry her, and she was most displeased that he had married another.





Chapter 6



Jane started down the stairs, wondering if hers was always to be a life of contention. Sometimes, she sincerely wished she’d been left on the steps of a French convent, to be raised by quiet nuns. Surely without the presence of men, life would be infinitely more peaceful.

No one had yet noticed her. Stepping into the fray, she said calmly, “Perhaps this is a matter best left inside the door, Your Grace? I daresay the neighbors are all quite thrilled to know you’re to be a papa, but I don’t believe this is precisely the way you should announce it.” She noticed then that he wasn’t embracing the woman. Rather, she clung to his neck, sobbing and keening her unhappiness all over his coat.

He stepped back, effectively dragging her along so that the butler could close the door. “Miriam, you must control yourself,” he said sternly, attempting to disengage her.

Sherbourne looked angry enough for the top of his head to come right off. “The marriage will be annulled, immediately. Reverend Hastings, you are witness to this and will plead the annulment to the bishop, will you not?”

Poor Reverend Hastings was beside himself with agitation, holding his hands folded in front of him as if in perpetual prayer, murmuring pointless things such as, “Good heavens!” and “Mercy me!” and “Gracious God!” The instant Sherbourne said his name, he looked just as he might if Moses were to appear on the stairs and command him to part the Thames. Wide eyed, he looked up at her father and stammered, “My . . . my lord, sure . . . surely we must think this through? I’ve no idea how this might be . . . be met by the bishop. I shall have to . . . to—”

“That won’t be necessary, sir.” Jane patted his shoulder and gently nudged him toward the door. “You’ve done your duty this morning, for which I’m most grateful. I shall see you at services three weeks hence.” Rothschild, bless his soul, had opened the door, once again, and waved to John Coachman to pull forward. Jane continued nudging the reverend toward the doorway. “Please have a lovely day, there’s a good man, and I’m certain we can count on your discretion in this matter?” She saw his nervous nod. “I thought so. Well, goodbye then, sir, and do be careful of the steps—” She flinched. “Ah, you’ve not sustained an injury after all. Excellent.”