Page 74 of The Virgin Who Vindicated Lord Darlington
May 1793.The most wonderful news! Iam with child…
Then, in early July, barely a month after that,dreadfully ill today…
And again, later in July,the sickness grows worse with each passing day…
Finally, after more than a month of silence, in that shaky hand—
September 1793. Gideon weeps, and begs me not to leave him…
Cecilia let the diary fall into her lap, herhead spinning.
She’d read it right the first time. There were only a few weeks between the time Cassandra discovered she was with child and when the first symptoms of her illness began. Then another three months had passed between the start of her illnessand her death.
Three months, with the illness growing progressively worse over that time. Certainly, a lady might experience delicate health during a pregnancy, but such an extreme illness as this, that continued to worsen over a prolongedperiod of time?
Itseemed…strange.
Cecilia flipped through the pages once again, searching each entry for a description of symptoms. Cassandra hadn’t recorded much aside from nausea, dizziness, and stomach pains. By the end of July, the entries had grown shorter, with many days passing between them, but there’d beenone in August.
Painful red rash…
Rash? Cecilia had never heard of a rash being a symptom of pregnancy.
She closed the diary again, her hands shaking as she slid it back under the coverlet, her heart giving a sickening lurch inside her chest as she considered every word, every sentence the late marchioness had written. It was the cruelest twist of fate her life should have been cut so short, her joy in her unborn child stolen from her, and Gideon left alone.
A pregnancy, an illness that lasted for months, a red rash…
Or maybe ithadn’tbeen fate, at all. Maybe Cassandra had been sent to her grave by something far more sinister than fate.
Because it didn’t sound as if Cassandra had succumbed to a mysterious illness.
It sounded as if she’dbeen poisoned.
Chapter Twenty
Gideon couldn’t determine when it had happened, but sometime between Cecilia Gilchrist’s arrival at Darlington Castle and this moment, he’d turned into a drooling, pathetic, lovestruck fool.
Well, he wasn’t drooling, thankfully, but it was bad enough, even so. What sort of marquess hovered at the door of his bedchamber, his breath held and his ear pressed to the wood, listening for the sound of awoman’s voice?
This washiscastle,hisbedchamber,hisdoor. He had every right to go through it. Every right in the world, yet his stomach was in nervous knots and his palms damp, as if he were some sort of spellbound adolescent.
He wasn’t even going in there to see Cecilia, for God’s sake. It was hisniece’sbedchamber. The niece he’d bid a good morningevery day since her birth. He always saw Isabella before he went about the business of the day, but now he was frozen in place, and for no better reason than Cecilia was on the other sideof that door.
He rested his forehead against it with a groan. Their kiss last night, those delirious moments when he’d taken her lips, pressed her curves against him, heard her soft sighs and whimpers in his ear…
Since then, he’d thought of nothing but that kiss. He’d dreamed of it, ofher, and had woken with a pounding heart and a cock as rigid as an iron spike. This from a man who purported to be a gentleman, and one who heartily disapproved of noblemen who debauched their servants.
The trouble was, it had been weeks since he’d thought of Cecilia as a servant. He wasn’t certain heeverhad, but she was in fact his niece’s nursemaid, and now, after a lifetime of restraint, he’d done the unthinkable.
What was he meant to say to her this morning, after such a kiss as that? Worse, what if he lost his wits and swept her into his arms as soon as he laid eyes on her, with Isabella as witness? She’d grow up and fall victim to a rogue, and it would be allGideon’s fault.
But he’d simply have to take the risk. He’d be away from the castle all day with Haslemere, and he didn’t like to leave without bidding them goodbye. He could hear them on the other side of the door— Isabella’s cheerful chatter, and Cecilia’s sweet answering laugh—and knew they’d be leaving their bedchamber in a matter of moments.
Gideon drew in a breath, flexed his fingers, and after a brief knock, opened the connecting door.
“Good morning, Uncle!” Isabella, always delighted to see him, flew across the room and into his waiting arms.
“Good morning, Isabella. You’re energetic today.” Gideon swept her up with a grin and kissed her cheek. “Good morning, Cecilia,” he added, the back of his neck heating as he met her gaze over the top of Isabella’s head.
