Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Your Grace, you must remain calm. The Duchess will be just fine. We just need to wait for her to revive before I can do a more thorough exam.”
Benedict glared at the doctor as he continued to pace back and forth in front of his and Miranda’s bed, where she lay in the middle, still unconscious.
“How can you possibly know that she will be fine?” Benedict demanded. “She has been unconscious for far too long. You can’t tell me something isn’t wrong.”
The doctor regarded him with a calm air that only made Benedict more frustrated. “Your Grace, let me make sure I understand what happened to the Duchess before she fainted. First, she became ill in a vase, then she appeared to grow lightheaded and not have a hold of her footing, is that correct?”
“Yes, it’s correct,” Benedict growled. They’d been over this how many times already? Why was this old man not doing more for Miranda? “And then she fainted in my arms.”
“What exactly was happening around her at that moment?”
Benedict furrowed his brow in confusion as he considered that question. “Well…there was a bit of a commotion. The Dowager was, regrettably, rather upset that my wife chose that particular vase to empty her stomach into and was being rather vocal in her displeasure. I think it was agitating the Duchess and possibly making her condition worse.”
The doctor nodded. “I see. Well, Your Grace, I do have a theory as to what could be ailing the Duchess, but I truly won’t know more until I can examine her properly.”
Benedict gritted his teeth in exasperation, but he tried to rein in his temper. He knew he needed to trust the man, as difficult as that would be. This was his area of expertise, and though Benedict was anxious for any insight into what was afflicting Miranda, he knew logically that badgering the man wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
Still, just standing around and waiting was torturous. He was supposed to protect and care for Miranda, and he was completely helpless to do anything for her now. It infuriated him to no end, but his anger didn’t change the fact that he was useless to his wife in that moment.
I’ve been rather useless to her the last few weeks.
Guilt slammed into him when he turned to look once more at his unconscious wife. She looked so peaceful, and it tore him apart because he knew he’d been putting her through such torment since he’d told her he was leaving. A part of him wondered if he’d somehow caused her current state.
Was she sick because he had upset her so badly? The mere thought had his stomach twisting and his heart racing. What if she didn’t wake up? What if he lost her because of this? What if his own, foolish fear ended up being the reason he lost her?
Just as his thoughts really began to spiral, the doctor suddenly said, “Your Grace! Look!”
Benedict jerked his gaze to the doctor, who was pointing toward the bed. Whirling, his breath left his lungs in a rush and he nearly cried out in relief to find Miranda blinking her eyes open.
In an instant, he was by her side, taking her hand in his and pressing it to his lips. “Oh, thank God,” he nearly sobbed. “Are you all right, Miranda? How do you feel?”
Frowning, clearly confused, she turned to him and murmured, “What happened? What’s going on?”
“You fainted after you got sick,” Benedict explained. “We brought you up here and fetched the doctor. He needs to examine you.”
The doctor moved to stand on the other side of the bed. Still appearing confused, Miranda turned her head to face the man. “Doctor? Am I gravely ill?”
The man shook his head. “No, Your Grace. I don’t believe you are, but I would like to look over you more thoroughly. In private, ideally.”
Benedict frowned. “Is that your way of asking me to leave?”
The doctor nodded, though he looked apologetic. “I’m afraid so, Your Grace. To maintain Her Grace’s privacy. I’m sure you can understand.”
The last thing Benedict wanted to do was leave Miranda’s side. When he turned his gaze back to her, however, he could see she was distressed. Possibly overwhelmed. For him to stay during her examination might be too much for her to handle in that moment. He had to remember that they were still at odds with each other, and his presence might make her uncomfortable. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he knew he had to do so.
For Miranda’s sake, he would put aside his pride and his own wants so that she could be more comfortable. Giving the doctor a stiff nod, Benedict pushed to his feet, though he didn’t release her hand right away.
“I’ll be right outside in the hallway,” he told both Miranda and the doctor.
“Very good, Your Grace,” the doctor acknowledged.
Miranda, however, just stared up at him, baffled. He gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it and moving away from the bed toward the door. At the threshold, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder.
She was watching him, and he was so tempted to turn and go back to her, but he resisted. Instead, he gave her a small smile and reassuring nod before he stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him. Once he was alone, he began to pace again. Back and forth. Back and forth.
More waiting. I’m still useless.
What would the doctor tell her? What if she really was sick, and the man’s initial assessment of her was wrong?
Benedict hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on the idea of losing her, but now, as he waited alone for the doctor to look her over, he couldn’t seem to get the thought out of his mind. It was enough to make his knees quake and he had to stop and lean against the wall beside the door to keep himself from dropping to the floor.
Leaning his head back, he took several long, deep breaths and closed his eyes. He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but if there was some greater power watching over them all, he prayed that it would protect Miranda and cure her of whatever ailed her.
He didn’t know how long he waited out in the hall, but after what felt like an eternity, the bedroom door finally opened and the doctor poked his head out and looked around to find him.
“Ah, there you are, Your Grace,” the man said with a nod. “You can come back in, now. I’ve determined what is putting the Duchess out of sorts.”
Benedict’s stomach pitched as he pushed from the wall and followed the doctor back into the room. Miranda was sitting up in the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, a worried expression on her face.
“If you would join your wife, Your Grace, I will tell you both what I’ve determined.”
Feeling a crushing sense of foreboding, Benedict moved to stand by the bed once more and he and Miranda both stared at the doctor expectantly. The man stood at the foot of the bed and regarded them both with a careful eye.
“Now, Your Grace, there is a perfectly good explanation for your less than ideal state,” he began. “And I’m happy to tell you that you do not have any actual illness.”
Benedict frowned, confused. “How can she not have an illness? She was sick and fainted. If she isn’t ill, then what is going on?”
Miranda didn’t say a word, but Benedict could see she was twisting the covers over her lap in her hands. She was likely terrified to hear what the doctor had to say.
“Please don’t keep us in suspense, Sir,” Benedict said when the doctor didn’t continue immediately.
The man clapped his hands together, a smile suddenly curling his lips. “I’m very pleased to inform you that the Duchess is with child.”
Benedict stared at the man in disbelief, certain he had misheard him.
“What?” Miranda gasped, her hands instantly going to clutch her belly. “I…I am pregnant?”
The doctor nodded. “Indeed, Your Grace. You’re not very far along, I don’t believe. Just a few weeks, but your symptoms are rather intense for it being so early.”
“Intense?” Benedict muttered. “What does that mean?”
The doctor shrugged. “Well, Your Grace, it’s just as it sounds…the Duchess’ pregnancy is already taking a toll on her body, which tells me she might not have an easy go of it.”
“So what do we do?” Benedict demanded to know. “How do we care for her?”
The doctor, ever calm in his tone, replied, “I’m going to insist that you do not leave bed, Your Grace, until we are certain your pregnancy is out of the initial danger of an early miscarriage. Hopefully, at that point, your symptoms will have died down and won’t be so severe.”
“Bedrest,” Miranda clarified.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” the doctor insisted. “I believe it is what will be best for you and the child. I do not want you to engage in any kind of strenuous activities or to tire yourself out. You must relax and rest until we can be sure everything is safe. Understand?”
Thankfully, Miranda nodded her head that she did understand, because Benedict wasn’t sure he did himself.
The doctor smiled. “All right. I will leave you two to celebrate this news. Please except my congratulations, and I shall return tomorrow to check on you, Your Grace. Good day.”
The doctor turned and made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him. Benedict and Miranda were left all alone.
Rather stunned by this turn of events, Benedict sank down onto the edge of the bed. He turned his head and met Miranda’s eyes. They didn’t say anything for several long moments. Benedict wasn’t certain what he should say. A baby…changed things.
It changed everything, actually. He couldn’t very well go to America when Miranda was carrying his child and heir. He couldn’t leave her now…and the relief he felt at that conclusion startled him nearly as much as the news that they were expecting did.
He didn’t want to leave her. He never had, and deep down, he’d known that all along. Truly, he’d been a fool, allowing his fear to overwhelm him and rule him.
I am not my father, and his fate does not have to be my own.
Benedict turned his gaze to Miranda, a wide smile spreading across his face. That smile slipped away, however, when he found her glaring at him.
“I expect you find this all rather burdensome,” she snapped, folding her arms over her chest. “The wife you don’t want, pregnant just as you’re about to make your great escape. Well, I’ll tell you right now, don’t even think of staying. This child and I will be just fine without you.”
At her harsh words, Benedict knew that he had his work cut out for him in earning her forgiveness. He only hoped he could do so before she banished him from her life forever.
