“I am with child.”
Rafe stopped his casual dismissal of letters and sat upright, placing the pile on the desk. Though she now had his full attention, he didn’t seem completely surprised. “I was worried you might be. Is it Peregrine’s?”
She nodded.
“When did you and he last . . . ?”
“The house party, but it was only once.”
“Sometimes you only need once,” Rafe muttered. “I assume you fear I will toss you out?” She swallowed hard, and rage flashed in his eyes. “You have been employed by me for ten months now. I had hoped you’d realize I am not like other men. I’m not tossing you out. However, I do believe leaving London would make things easier for you. It cannot be good to traipse about the city once your condition begins to show. If you wish to have any real freedom for the next several months, we must take you somewhere else.”
“We?”
Rafe sighed, and Sabrina realized that yet again she’d assumed that whatever came next she would have to face on her own. “I’m not about to let you handle this alone. We can go north to Scotland. My sister married some Scottish fellow. Decent chap—for a Scot. Has a bloody castle and everything. They would be happy to have us visit. Well, you and Isla anyway. He’ll tolerate me. What do you say?”
She was relieved to know she had that option, but it would be her secondary plan if her first plan failed. She’d been writing back and forth with Zehra Russell ever since they’d left the Cotswolds two months prior, and she felt certain she could count on Zehra to help her.
“That’s a wonderful offer, but I also thought I might write to Zehra to see if she might let me stay with her. She’s been so very kind to me.” She didn’t tell Rafe that part of her—a very strong part—wanted desperately to be near Peregrine and his home while she waited to have his child. That was, assuming he was there right now.
“Will you tell Peregrine about the child?” Rafe asked.
“I don’t know.”
Rafe was quiet a moment before he gently offered his opinion.
“If it were me, I would like the woman to tell me. But this isn’t my child. It’s yours. So think on it and write to Zehra. We can leave at once when you hear back from her.”
“Thank you.” Sabrina stood. “Truly. You’ve been a better man to me than my brother ever was.”
His face suddenly flushed. “Right, well, go see to Isla. She’s been asking for you while you were away.”
Sabrina bit her lip to hide a relieved smile and went in search of her little pupil.
14
One month later
Peregrine stood on the top steps of Ashbridge Heath, watching the distant storm clouds roll toward him. The gray-and-black froth in the sky was but a faint echo compared to the wild winds and violent rains that tore through his heart. From the moment he had let Sabrina walk away from him, he hadn’t been the same. He would never be the same again.
He had made a grave mistake, and now it was too late. Instead of going after her right away, he’d sat about moping at his country estate like some fool for months because he’d believed he was right about marriage, but now he realized that living without Sabrina was a worse fate than anything he’d face if marriage to her turned out to be like his parents’ unhappy union. He would rather take a risk with Sabrina and pray that their happiness would endure than spend one more day in agony without her.
When he’d finally gone to London to try to find her two weeks ago, he’d learned that Sabrina, Rafe, and Isla were gone. Their butler had politely informed him that they would not be back for many months and he was not at liberty to discuss where they had gone.
With a broken spirit, Peregrine had returned to Ashbridge and buried himself in his work. Thankfully, his steward, Mr. Chelton, had allowed him to become involved in the sheep breeding. But even after a tiring day of work, Peregrine would collapse in his bed and his gaze would drift out to the window and into the night, where a blanket of flickering stars hung so far out of reach.
He was cursed, just as his parents had been. But unlike them, he had failed to take a chance on love. He had failed to prove to Sabrina that he was the gentleman she deserved him to be. And only by losing her had he proven to himself that he was madly, hopelessly in love with her.
He watched as a rider came up the front drive to his house. He feared something was amiss, given the coming storm. Peregrine rushed down the steps and soon recognized that it was Lawrence.
“Rutland, I’m glad to have found you.” Lawrence slid off his horse with ease and shook Peregrine’s hand.
“Is everything all right?” he asked in concern.
“Oh, yes. Everything’s quite all right. It’s only that we are having a ball tonight, and our housekeeper realized your invitation had fallen off the back of her desk. She only discovered it this morning.” He pulled out an invitation and handed it to Peregrine. “So here I am, the messenger at the eleventh hour, so you wouldn’t think we’d forgotten you. It would be a pleasant way to while away the storm, if you choose to come.”
Peregrine saw his name and title upon the crisp, thick paper and couldn’t help but feel like a lost fool as he thought of how it should have been addressed to him and his wife . . . Sabrina, the Countess of Rutland. But he’d lost that future, all because he’d believed he’d not be able to escape his parents’ grim marital fate.
Cautiously, quietly, Lawrence added, “We would love to have you this evening, if you wish to come. We have not seen you these past months, since . . .”
Peregrine cleared his throat, pushing thoughts of Sabrina away.
“Zehra is with child, so this will be the last of our public events until after the birth.”
Peregrine smiled, happy for his friend. “Congratulations! When is the child due?”
Lawrence gave a rueful smile. “Not for another five or six months. I know it is overly cautious—but this is our first child.”
“Well, in that case, I wouldn’t miss it. I shall be there.” Peregrine smiled, but while he would enjoy the ball as a distraction, it would be just that, a very temporary distraction.
“Excellent. I shall inform Zehra you are coming.” Lawrence mounted his horse, and the beast danced, eager to leave. Lawrence guided the horse to stay still. “Oh, and, Peregrine, bring a mask.”
“Why a mask?”
Lawrence grinned as he kicked his heels against his horse’s flanks. “It’s a masquerade.” He took off back down the sloping lawn and onto the road that led through the valley to his home. Peregrine glanced once more at the clouds, which still rumbled in the distance. Another masquerade . . . Another night to survive with a broken heart.
“It had better not rain during my ball,” Zehra grumbled. She peeked out the window of the bedchamber she’d given Sabrina for the duration of her stay. It was a proper chamber, not too near the nursery this time, which made Sabrina both embarrassed and happy to know she was now a friend to Zehra just as she’d wished to be and not simply Isla’s governess.
Sabrina chuckled. “As much as anyone deserves to have the weather dictated by their whims, which you do, I sadly do not think the storm clouds will agree to your desires. They seem quite determined to dump an ocean over us.” She joined Zehra at the window and shivered as the late-summer storm moved ever closer.