Page 41 of To Dance with a Devil

His mother wiped her eyes again and nodded, gathering herself. “There was an accident,” she said, her voice thick. “A pickpocket, I believe, he was rushing through the crowd to get away and he pushed Bonnie off the pavement and she f-fell in front of a carriage.”

“Oh, God, no.” Jasper felt his heart clench, imagining getting such news about his own wife.

“Yes,” she said, choking the words out. “Thank God, she seems to be unharmed, just a concussion and some nasty bruises, thanks to the quick reactions of the driver, but… but she’s lost the baby.”

Jasper tried to swallow down the knot that had formed in his throat.

“Oh, Jasper,” his mother said, her lovely eyes filled with tears. “He’s devastated. He’s blaming himself, b-but I cannot help but think it’s my f-fault. If the child had not believed I disapproved of her so and feared my reaction….”

She couldn’t continue and put her face in her hands.

“Nonsense,” Jasper said, trying to keep his voice even though the world seemed terribly blurry. “Of course you would be cross, he behaved dreadfully and we both know it. He knows it too, but this is no one’s fault. It’s just a horrid accident. We must give thanks that Bonnie is not badly hurt.”

She nodded. “I know, b-but I feel so guilty, and poor Jerome, he’s been out of his mind. He loves her very much.”

Jasper smiled. “I know,” he said, patting her hand. “Where is he?”

“He spends every moment beside her, but the doctor came back to check on her just before you arrived, so I suppose he’ll be pacing outside her door.”

“I’d best go up, then.” Jasper leaned in and kissed his mother’s cheek. “No more tears,” he scolded gently. “All will be well, I promise.”

“You’re a good man, Jasper,” she said with a sigh. “And a good brother.”

“So is he,” Jasper replied, and went in search of Jerome.

***

Jerome sat beside his wife’s bed as she slept. She was horribly pale, dark shadows visible beneath her eyes. Dear God, how fragile she was, and how close he’d come to losing her. Though the loss of their child was a sorrow that filled his heart to the brim, and hurt far more than he might have imagined, he knew losing her would have destroyed him.

Be thankful, he counselled himself, but it was hard to be thankful when their baby had been taken from them and Bonnie wouldn’t look at him. She slept mostly, only waking for a brief time whilst the doctor came. Though Jerome had wanted him to wait, the doctor had disagreed and told him she must be given the news at once. So the doctor had explained that she had lost the baby, but that she was fit and healthy despite a few bruises, and there would be plenty of opportunities to have more.

Jerome had braced himself for tears that had never come, had waited for the doctor to leave so that he could go to her and comfort her, but she had turned away from him. She had closed her eyes and not said a word since.

She stirred now, and he sat up, reaching for her hand. “Bonnie,” he said, forcing a smile to his face though he wanted to weep. “There you are, sleeping beauty. I thought you’d never wake up.”

She blinked, staring at him, and then gently pulled her hand from his grasp.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Jerome frowned, his brain taking a moment to understand the mundane question. He fumbled for his pocket watch, staring at it for some time before he could answer her. “It’s four thirty in the afternoon. Are you hungry? I think Cook mentioned something about chicken broth. She’s made it specially.”

Bonnie shook her head.

“Well, some tea, then,” he suggested, feeling panic rise in his chest though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “I could do with some. I’ll send for tea and toast, and you liked that apricot jam, didn’t you…? I’ll ask—”

“I don’t want tea, and I don’t want toast,” she said, and though the words were calm, there was an edge to them. “I want an annulment.”

For a moment he just stared at her as the words made no sense to him. Try as he might, he couldn’t make his brain understand what it was she meant, what she was saying, and then it sank in and his breath caught as the panic he’d been fighting down surged through him.

“An annulment,” he repeated stupidly, sounding dazed and uncomprehending, which was entirely correct. It was as though someone had tilted the world on its axis, and everything had turned upside down, making no sense.

“Morven never gave his permission to our marriage,” she said, so icily calm that he wanted to shake her. “He’s my guardian. He ought to have been consulted.”

“But you’re of age,” he said, fighting for breath, his heart thudding so hard he felt as if he’d run for miles and miles.

“No. In fact Morven controls my finances until I’m twenty-five unless I marry as he wishes.”

“I know that!” he exclaimed, angry now. “As if I give a damn for a paltry five thousand pounds. I’d have married you no matter if it were five pounds or fifty thousand. It makes no odds to me.”