Always the Widow by Emily E.K. Murdoch
Chapter Twelve
“What a shame I have another appointment,” Jacob said cheerfully with absolutely no attempt to hide his glee. “I suppose we shall have to continue this conversation another time.”
The glare Sophia shot at him, despite her elegant coiffure and her gown of the latest fashion, was sharp. “And exactly what is this mysterious appointment?”
Jacob bit his lip. He should have kept his damned mouth shut, as he had done the countless other times he had high tailed it out of Bath.
Guilt never sat well with him, and the nausea it caused in his stomach made him shift in his seat. He was not a liar. He never would be—but that did not mean a man didn’t have secrets.
The last few hours with Sophia and her parents had been…well, tolerable.
It was a terrible thought, but it was true. Mr. and Mrs. Worsley were perfectly pleasant people, and if they had not been continually wittering on about his marriage to their daughter, Jacob was almost sure he would like them.
As they debated the color of napkins, the flowers, and precisely what organ music should be playing when the bride entered the church, Jacob had forced down one yawn after another.
His thoughts could not help straying away from their lists, the map of their wedding reception seating arrangement, and disappearing off to Lenskeyn House.
Elizabeth. Beau.
They crowded his thoughts, forcing out any focus on this accursed wedding. Elizabeth. She was the most incredible mother he had ever encountered.
Jacob’s jaw tightened as he thought about the birth. He still had nightmares about that day. Anyone who considered motherhood easy had much to learn.
“Jacob!”
He jumped. Sophia’s anger had deepened, if possible, and her brow was furrowed.
“I-I beg your pardon?”
“I am waiting for an answer,” she said icily.
Jacob blinked. “An…an answer. There was a question?”
It was a most unladylike sigh that Sophia gave, but then, Jacob thought ruefully, she had much cause. He was a complete ass.
“Jacob, you are never present,” said Sophia. “Even when my parents were here, you never pay attention to what—”
“They—they have left?” Jacob looked around and realized, to his astonishment, he and Sophia were alone.
The look Sophia gave him was indescribable. “Where is your head, Jacob? Where are you going so often that it interferes with our planning? What is more important than planning our wedding, our life together?”
Jacob opened his mouth, but no words came out. Usually so conversationally gifted, there were no words to describe his predicament—not in a way Sophia would accept, in any case.
Her shoulders slumped. “And why have you put off this wedding time and time again—you first proposed to me almost a year ago!”
Jacob swallowed. This was not a desperate romantic plea from a woman who was heartily in love with him, and he could see that.
No, Sophia’s frustrations were far deeper than that. She and her parents had expected a marriage, and now they were starting to wonder whether they would get one.
Did he love Sophia? Not in the slightest.Great admiration for her, respect, and he did appreciate her good points. She would make an excellent wife.
He had never lied or fabricated emotions he did not feel. No words of love had slipped his lips, not even during the few times they did engage in a little kissing. There had been no passion on either side.
They knew what was expected of them, and so they performed their duties admirably and would continue to do so once they were married.
Children and heirs.Jacob would never tell her he already had an heir of sorts. Beau would never be a Westray, but he was of his blood. The moment he had been born—or at least, once he had managed to get his breath back—he had made a decision.
This extra wealth that came with the codicil. He had never needed it before, never wanted it. But he saw the need now.
Sixteen thousand pounds. Four of that could easily be moved. Sophia would never notice. What were gentlemen for but for wasting money?
That four thousand a year would go to Beau. He would not permit a son of his to exist in the world without some sort of income. It would be invested until he was of age, naturally, and then Beau would have his own fortune, independent of the Howard family.
“Jacob!” Sophia looked exhausted.
Sophia was supposed to be the center of his world. Every minute of the day should be devoted to her, a word he could hardly use to describe his attention on her.
Miss Sophia Worsley deserved better. Throwing her away would be throwing everything away; the chance for respectability, a wife of his own, more children perhaps—and importantly for little Beau, the approval of Lady Romeril and the release of the codicil.
If he thought, for one moment, Elizabeth would marry him…
“I wish…I wish you would break your engagement with Miss Worsley. I know she has been left at the altar before, and that is terrible…but it should not force you into a marriage we both know you do not want.”
Jacob shook his head as though ridding water from his ears. No, she had not meant…Elizabeth would not marry him. How many times had she said that as a widow, she would never marry?
She wished he would not marry. That was not the same thing.
Besides, Elizabeth had endured enough gossip and pain throughout her life. That cad of a man, Elmore—she must have had the patience of a saint living with him for half a decade.
If he broke his engagement with Sophia and proposed to Elizabeth, she would say no, and he would be left with neither of them, a total loss of his income, and a whole heap of trouble.
Elizabeth’s reputation was already sullied in the eyes of some for choosing to include his name in her son’s name. Beauvale. His heart skipped every time he thought about it.
Sophia deserved better. Christ, every woman around him seemed to deserve better, and what was he doing?
Moping.
“It’s…it’s like you’re not even here,” said Sophia softly.
Jacob grimaced. What could he say, other than she was right?
It was easier to just keep pushing back the wedding rather than face the monster he was becoming. Push it back, push it back, ignore her concerns and her parents’ questions, ignore Lady Romeril’s pouting irritation of the changing dates, push it back…
Until Sophia broke it off.
It was the first time Jacob had admitted his foolish idea, and he was ashamed immediately. What kind of a man was he, who could not speak up and say what was on his mind?
Besides, that damned codicil. The idea that his future bride had to adhere to some strange ruling—that of being acceptable to an elderly lady she had likely as not never met—was abhorrent. Coward, he had never been, but there was no other word for how he was acting at the moment.
Hands tied by a codicil with ropes he had placed around his own wrists,Jacob thought bitterly. It was his pathetic desperation to cling to the terms of the codicil that stopped him from just tearing up the rulebook and deciding the fate of his own life—but Lady Romeril would never approve of Elizabeth.
Not that there was anything wrong with her. But a widow. A widow with a baby. No, she would not be considered a suitable bride for the line of Westray.
And if he defied Lady Romeril, refused to wed Sophia—who had already been abandoned at the altar once before—then he would lose so much more than just the good opinion of the woman who had raised him.
His fortune.His income, everything he needed to live on, it would all go. Nothing for him, and even more importantly, nothing for Beau. He had to protect them, and it just happened to be his misfortune that the best way to safeguard Elizabeth and Beau was to be apart from them.
Marry Sophia. Get the extra income, and send it to Elizabeth for the care of their child. It was the only way.
None of these words passed Jacob’s lips, however. Rising smartly and stepping across the room, he kissed Sophia briefly on the lips.
“Goodbye, Sophia. I will see you in a few days.”
“And by then,” she said softly as he picked up his greatcoat and top hat from the side where he had abandoned them before, “you will have made the decision?”
Something sharp pierced his heart. “I beg your pardon?”
Sophia sighed, making no attempt to hide her irritation. “Your best man. You need a best man, Jacob.”
“Yes, right, a best man,” he said hastily, popping his hat upon his head. “Of course.”
Sophia shot him a look of disappointment as Jacob skipped down the stairs.
He was late. He had wanted to be with Elizabeth half an hour ago. Two long days had passed since he had last seen them. With Beau only three months old, even a day could mean he missed something new.
“Carriage, Stewart,” he said aloud as he ruefully thought he would have to tread far more carefully when it came to his intended.
Sophia was pretty, yes, but she was clever, too. She was unlikely to simply accept these jaunts out into the countryside much longer, even if he was more careful.
The wedding was in three months. He needed to break it off soon, or something needed to happen, or he would actually find himself standing up at the altar with her.
What was it that made him hesitate? The pressure of society, his hatred of breaking the rules? Jacob had always done what he was told. That was part and parcel of growing up with Lady Romeril. As he had grown, he had been careful, seducing young ladies and ensuring never to see them again.
Today he could escape it all: responsibilities, Sophia, the wedding, Bath itself. As his carriage rattled along the road to London, it was only a few miles before it turned off and started down the lane that led to Lenskeyn House.
Jacob’s fingers twisted in his lap as he watched the countryside go by. These trees and hedgerows were starting to become as familiar to him as the streets of London and Bath.
The door to Lenskeyn House opened as he approached it.
“Your lordship,” bowed the butler.
Jacob inclined his head as he handed the man his greatcoat and top hat. Being named godfather to little Beau—Elmore, he was Elmore officially, though it rankled his soul—had certainly helped convince the servants he was here on benevolent business.
“And my lady is?” he said but continued toward the drawing room without waiting for a response. He knew Lenskeyn House so well now; there were only two places Elizabeth would be.
She was not in the drawing room. Jacob did not miss a step but turned and opened the garden room door.
“I am sorry, I left as soon as I—” His voice fell away. The garden room, its tall, expansive windows overlooking the lawn, was empty.
Jacob stopped in his tracks. It was today they had agreed; he could not have mistaken the date, could he?
A gurgle and a laugh. They were soft, and Jacob knew them better than any sound in the world, and as soon as he heard them again, he knew where they were.
The staircase was far grander than that of his townhouse in Bath, and he ran up it with passion giving his feet wings. The happy gurgling grew louder, and as he stepped to the bedchamber where Elizabeth had birthed him, it grew louder still.
“And is that your nose?” came her voice, sing-song through the door. “Yes, it is!”
Jacob could not help but beam as he pushed open the door. There she was, the woman he loved, leaning over the crib where their son lay on his back, giggling up at his mother.
“Hello, Beau,” he said softly. Lifting him out of the crib with Elizabeth smiling, Jacob held him to his chest and breathed him in.
There was nothing like holding his son, even if he had someone else’s damn name.
Elizabeth sat on the bed and said teasingly, “I still don’t know whether you come to see him or me.”
“Both,” Jacob said honestly, stroking his son’s cheek as he gurgled away. “Hello, little man. Are you being good for your mother?”
“He is, mostly,” said Elizabeth, her voice tired. “But he could be a little terror, and I would never wish him away. Would I, Beau?”
As Jacob cooed over his son and tried to forget there was a real world outside these walls, Elizabeth leaned forward and pulled the bell-rope by the bed.
In less than a minute, the nursemaid arrived.
“Would you mind putting the baby down in his nursery?” Elizabeth said with a smile. “I think I will turn in early after his lordship’s visit, and we are trying to encourage the baby to sleep through the night.”
The nursemaid curtseyed her agreement, reaching for Beau. Jacob instinctively took a step backward, and it was only when Elizabeth cleared her throat that he remembered.
No one else knew Beau was his son. He could hardly act the protective parent when no one was supposed to know.
“Here you go,” he said happily in an attempt to cover up his faux pas. “Growing every day, is he not?”
The nursemaid smiled broadly as she accepted Beau into her arms. “Yes, little Elmore Howard is a growing lad,” she said proudly as she walked out of the door.
Jacob’s jaw tightened. Elmore Howard. To think his son would have to bear that name…the indignity of it!
“I had no choice, you know.”
Jacob turned to look at Elizabeth, whose voice was low. “I know.”
“Any other name would have raised suspicion,” she said as though desperate to reassure him. “I had wanted to call him Jacob, but Beauval was the closest I was able to get.”
He nodded. It had been an impossible situation, and her idea had been far more impressive than his, which had been simply to pick a random name and damn the Howard family to hell.
“I cannot believe he is over three months old,” Jacob said wistfully, looking at the door.
“I cannot believe it was a year ago, almost exactly, that we…”
Elizabeth’s voice trailed off, and Jacob turned to look at her with a grin. “Christ, was it really? I remember it so well. I wanted you so badly that night—have done often since then. Sometimes I still cannot believe you let me.”
“Do you not remember my husband? I was desperate. I would have said yes to anyone,” she jested, a smile growing on her lips.
Jacob laughed and sat on the chair beside the bed. “Well, I should have expected that!”
Elizabeth’s smile broadened. “There is only a hint of truth in it. I was desperate—to be touched, to be loved. But since then, I have wanted you—but that’s not what I promised myself I would say. You must ignore me.”
His grin slowly disappeared, replaced by a look of curiosity. She wanted him? Elizabeth had never spoken like that to him before. What was this about?
Even as she opened her mouth to begin speaking again, Jacob had to force himself to focus on her words rather than her loveliness. She was beautiful, and becoming a mother had only increased that. If he was not careful, he would say a few things he should not.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Look, Jacob. I have reconsidered.”
Jacob waited for more, but none seemed forthcoming. “Reconsidered?”
“Yes,” she said. “I…I know you do not want to be seen to take on a son who is not yours. Society must dictate our lives somewhat, I suppose. Marry Miss Worsley and be happy. Stop coming here. You will still see Beau occasionally, for I will arrange it with my butler. You must see this is for the best.”
Fury raged through his heart as he had never known before, mingled with a sort of wild disbelief. “You…you no longer want to see me?”
The chair could no longer hold him; he had risen and paced about the bedchamber.
“How do you think I am going to explain your near-constant presence to our son?” Elizabeth said, a touch of pleading in her tones. “Who are you to him, that you are always here?”
“I am his godfather!”
“Almost every godfather in Christendom barely sees their godchildren, and you know it,” she said fiercely. “Jacob, I say this out of no bitterness. It will all be easier, easier for Beau, if we just…we just stop it.”
“But surely, one day, we will tell him?” Jacob turned, and he saw the hesitation on her face. “You honestly were going to keep the truth from him?”
“How could I tell him anything else?” Elizabeth looked wretched, unable to meet his eyes entirely. “Society believed his father and I were happy, and I do not wish little Elmore to think I had no regard for his namesake. This is for him, Jacob.”
Her appeal fell on deaf ears. To think he could cease to be a part of his son’s life…that Elizabeth could just take him and leave, go anywhere without him—without Beau even knowing he had another parent in the world, thinking about him, caring about him…
Bile rose in his throat. It was an intolerable thought, and he simply would not countenance it.
And losing Elizabeth? For that was what she was suggesting, even if she did not know it. Removal of his presence from their child would naturally mean he would no longer see her, and the thought wrenched his soul apart.
He could not be separated from them. He loved Elizabeth.
He was not ready to let go of them, no matter what she said.
Swallowing, he said as calmly as possible, “I will not simply disappear into the background of our son’s life.”
Elizabeth’s forehead was puckered, and her eyes were downcast. “What would you have me do? I am in an impossible position, and you know it. The gossip about us only increases, and you are still engaged to Miss Worsley!”
“Miss Worsley be damned, I love you!”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but would he have even tried? There was no point denying it any longer, and it was time Elizabeth knew the truth. His truth. Their truth.
Elizabeth was looking at him now as she whispered, “You don’t mean that.”
A few paces from the bed, Jacob nodded. “I do, and I should have said it a long time ago. I love our son, but my love for you came first. I just didn’t know it.”
There was no going back from this, Jacob knew, but he did not care.
“I…I love you, too,” Elizabeth spoke with a bashful smile, and it was all Jacob needed to hear.
Moving across the room and clambering onto the bed next to her, Jacob did the only thing he could think of, he kissed her.
The passion stirring inside him, the passion desperate to pour from his lips for weeks and weeks, finally overwhelmed him.
Elizabeth returned his ardor, pulling him into her arms as they sat side by side on the bed, clutching at each other like younglings at their first ball. Jacob almost wept at her sweetness.
And he wanted more. Every inch of him—and some inches more than others—sprang to attention at the very thought. But Elizabeth had given birth not too long ago, and it was a huge demand of her. Was she ready—or willing—to give herself to him again?
Jacob broke the kiss and looked into her startling blue eyes, the eyes she had given to their son.
His request did not need words. She understood him immediately, and with only a slight hesitation, nodded.
“I am ready,” she whispered, “and…and I want you. But first, lock the door. No one will consider it amiss. I do that if I do not wish to be disturbed at night.”
Heart in his mouth, almost unsure whether he had dreamt her reply, Jacob rose quickly and locked the door.
This was wrong. What he was doing was wrong, but he could not help himself. Mere hours ago, he had been in his Bath townhouse, planning his wedding with another woman.
Sophia deserved better. If it came to that, so did Elizabeth.
Yet, he could not stop himself. Not when this felt so right, after forbidding themselves for so long.
Jacob felt her quiver with anticipation as he returned to the bed and pulled her into his arms, and he understood. This was going to be a new kind of lovemaking, now she was a mother, and she would need all the reassurance he could give her.
Slowly, teasingly, his lips worshipped hers until she moaned softly into his mouth, and he felt her shiver in that indescribable way that told him she was ready for more.
“Slowly, slowly,” he whispered, smiling at her reassuringly. “And if you wish to stop, all you have to do is say.”
Elizabeth nodded as he reached around and slowly undid the ribbons keeping her gown together.
“Do…we do need to undress?” Her words were not so much whispered as breathed, almost merely thought.
Jacob stopped. “You do not wish to?”
What was that emotion furrowing her brow? Was it…shame?
“I…I am not as I was when you last saw me,” she said eventually, her hands moving to her stomach protectively.
Jacob looked her carefully in the eyes as he continued to undress her, kissing her lips, her neck, and her cheeks.
When she was finally entirely naked, lying on the bed, Jacob took her in.
“You were beautiful,” he said quietly. “And now, you are even more so. Yes, even better. Every line,” and he moved a finger along the marks where her skin had stretched, “was for our son, and I love you for it.”
It did not take him long to strip himself, and then he was with her, pulling her into his arms, loving her as only he knew how.
As he stroked his fingers inside her, he was careful. This was new ground, something he had never experienced before, and he was honored to share it with her.
Gently bringing her to climax, he knew she needed to feel pleasure again, to trust her body. To trust herself that she had made the right decision in opening herself to him.
“Jacob, Jacob, yes!” Elizabeth tried to bite down on her words as her entire body rocked with pleasure, but she could not help it. She clung to him, an anchor in a storm, and Jacob’s heart broke. He would do anything for this woman. Anything.
His desire reached a fever pitch as he slipped inside her, and he knew he had come home.
Loving her, teasing her breasts, capturing her mouth just when she least expected it with his own—Jacob lost himself in the ecstasy that was loving Elizabeth.
Only when she had exploded around him several times did Jacob finally let himself go, and as he rocked into her and finally crested into her—that was when he knew he would never be able to live without her.
They lay together, Elizabeth in his arms, and felt their bodies connect in a way they had never known.
“I want you to stay here,” were the first words Elizabeth managed to say. “Here with me. Tonight.”
Jacob nodded. Of course he would obey any command, any request. He would do anything Elizabeth asked.
He never wanted to leave her again.