Page 84 of To Steal a Duchess

Eloise did not give Dorian a chance to answer her; she just walked away, her mind spinning with every question she had about her future.

By the time Dorian joined her in the parlor, Eloise had composed herself, and her bleeding was staunched and supported, and the cramping was temporarily relieved by the glass of wine she had already begun sipping.

Her eyes kept wandering to that cabinet of model displays, hoping they could come back to one another, that they could get through this.

“Eloise.”

“Dorian.” She paused, smiling a little, but it was wistful and doubtful. “You came.”

“Of course I did. You are right. I want to speak to you, and you waited for me to come to you.”

“I waited for you, in general.”

“As you deserve.” He moved closer, coming close to where she sat. “And I am sorry I have kept you waiting so long. Let us speak. I am ready.”

She was not trying to power over him. She just wanted the man she had become to like—to perhaps feel more for—to meet her halfway. To drop down his walls and speak with her.

“Then speak,” she told him.

“I—I do not know how to formulate my words yet,” he admitted, and she nodded. “You were so headstrong on the beach, and I hate and love that I pushed so far. But I want to hear your voice, for I have denied you enough.”

Eloise nodded. She nodded to the wine glass and the empty glass she had left him.

“I want children.” Her words hung heavy in the room, and she felt the weight of them immediately. “Someday. I want to be clear with you: I do not want them now. When we thought… when the physician suggested… I was frightened, Dorian. You know the sort of household I grew up in, and I cannot bring a child into the same arrangement of two people sharing an empty dining table. An empty marriage where a child is provided to be a puppet and just an heir rather than their own person.”

“I agree,” he answered, taking his wine glass and sitting adjacent to her. “I do not want that, either. I just am unsure of what you want.”

“I want a life,” she admitted. “I want to see the world, or have freedom over a boat. I want to know what we are, and what our marriage is, before we bring a child into this home with us. A family should be started with true feeling, whatever that means for us, but we are new to what is happening between us. A child deserves better.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “But… Eloise… Knowing your potential news…” He stopped, gathering himself. “I do not know if I can ever want children. I carry so much of my past.”

“And I do not?”

“I am not trying to say such a thing. I only want you to hear me, as I have heard you, and will continue to do so.” He drank from his glass, a small sip. “I have told you a little about my father, and his… temper. But I experienced his cruelty as a boy, and I am afraid I have his cursed blood in me. I do not know what kind of father I will be. For a long time, I was certain I did not want children.”

“And while I am fine to wait, how long must it be?”

“I do not know. I cannot give you a proper answer—or at least one that you might be hoping to hear.”

Eloise paused, taking a moment to have a drink of her own wine, though she followed her worries, her insecurities, and finished the glass. She blinked at it before she gazed at her husband.

“Years?” she finally asked.

“I do not know.” His face was torn in regret. “I wish I did but I do not.”

“Months?” Her voice cracked as she tried to understand not only her own heart but his. Her mind drifted to Nancy, and her honeymoon, and her love match, and that beautiful love story unfolding. What had she never been deserving of that?

“Do not wait for me, Eloise.” Dorian’s voice turned flat, certain, and his jaw ticked with tension. Again, he would not even look at her.

“I am your wife,” she whispered. “You made me your wife after I pled with you to save me from another man.”

“And now I will save you from me. I will uphold my promise for our reputation, but I am afraid I cannot give you what you want.”

Eloise clutched her wine glass. “Then, let me ask you this: had it been confirmed that we were with child, what would you have done?”

Dorian stiffened, his hand tightening around his wine glass. “Then I would have done my duty, and I would have endured whatever fears I had. That is what I can promise you for certain, at least.”

“That is it?” she breathed.