not to blame. Yes, it would break my heart to leave Justin, but he does not need me as Angela does.’
‘I cannot deny the child needs you. When she is well she plays happily enough for hours, but when she is feeling unwell she cries for you. I try to comfort her, but it is you she wants.’
‘We must go quickly,’ Lucinda said. ‘If we are swift, no one will know you are in the house for a while and perhaps I may persuade Justin to let me have my cousin’s child stay with us.’
‘You should ask him sooner rather than later,’ Nanny warned. ‘If he truly cares for you, I do not think he would tell you to abandon the child—but a decent house with servants and warm dry accommodation might be provided somewhere.’
‘Somewhere I would not be able to visit very often,’ Lucinda said and her head lifted, an expression of determination in her eyes. ‘If Justin cares for me, he should accept my child. I would have told him if he had been more reasonable at the start.’
‘Well, you know your heart best,’ Nanny said, but shook her head.
‘Bring your bundles and I shall carry Angela,’ Lucinda said and went up the cottage stairs to lift the sleeping child from her bed. Angela stirred and murmured something, but did not wake as she was carried down the stairs and out of the house.
Justin woke and slid his hand across the bed. Lucinda was not there and the sheets were cold. She must have risen some time earlier. Her perfume lingered and haunted him, but he wanted to find her warm soft body lying close to him, to make love to her again in that first luxuriously sleepy moment after waking. He knew that she was still nervous of the act of love, which was understandable after what had happened to her, but she had responded to his touch. Little did she know what it had cost him to refrain from taking his own pleasure of her. He was not sure how long he could control his need to bury himself in her sweet warmth, but perhaps she might be ready to accept him next time?
Rising, he went into the dressing room. She was not there, but he thought that a cloak she had left lying over a chair had gone. Where was she? It was not yet eight o’clock.
Had she gone for one of her long walks? He was thoughtful, edgy and frustrated as he went through his own dressing room into his bedchamber, his mind beginning to search for answers to so many questions. What did Lucinda do on her walks? She had mentioned meeting Andrew Lanchester on more than one occasion, but did she go to meet him or someone else? Did she have a lover? Was that why she had lain unresponsive, not rejecting his touch, seeming to welcome him and yet giving little of her inner self?
Justin had been patient with her. He did not wish to hurt her after the torment she must have endured the night she was raped. He had refrained from the final act because he wanted her to welcome him with no reserves. It would be wrong to force her when she was clearly not ready.
Perhaps he should have waited longer before attempting to make it a true marriage? Watching her at the ball had made him realise how much he wanted her, but he had expected too much. Women had always been eager and responsive to his touch, but Lucinda had suffered in a way that most could not contemplate.
He was a clumsy fool. If he wanted the shy trusting girl he had wed to return to him, he must be gentle with her. He must take his time, court her and make her love him again. He must curb his impatience and think of her needs, not his own, because he cared for her more than he’d realised. He’d been angry and harsh because he was disappointed in her lack of trust when she ran away. Now he must curb his temper and show his wife that he admired and cared for her; he must teach her to love him, but slowly and with infinite care.
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