The Demon Duchess_An Aristocrat Falls for a Cowboy Second Chance Romance by Tessa Bowen

Author:Tessa Bowen [Bowen, Tessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fig Leaf Press
Published: 2017-06-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Jack Johnson was gone before dinner. The Baroness sat in silence, staring at the carrot soup Gracie served her.

“Did you see him before he left?” she asked Gracie.

“Yes, My Lady—I found him upstairs closing the door to the nursery around four o’clock.”

She sighed, dragging her spoon through the orange liquid. “A final farewell to Ducky no doubt.”

“He looked very sad to leave her, My Lady. I am sure he will be back just as soon as he can. He loves that little girl.”

“Yes, he does love her,” the Baroness agreed weakly. She choked down two spoonfuls of soup before pushing it away. “And she loves him. I fear she will be lost without him.”

We will both be lost without him.

And lost they were.

Ducky awoke at six for her feeding and started to squawk in fury when her father wasn’t there. The squawks eventually turned to long heart rending sobs and then baleful moans. The infant’s cries of misery reverberated throughout the large home. The Baroness cried too as she struggled to feed her. Ducky latched on for a few minutes then turned her face away and began sobbing again. This went on until the next day. The only rest Abigail got was when the baby cried herself into such a state of fatigue that she passed out for a short while, only to rise again with whimpers of despair.

She did her best to comfort the child, to no avail. “I know, my darling. I am sorry he is gone. I didn’t want him to go either.”

No one in the household had slept a wink all night. Gracie and Archibald looked like a pair of zombies. Abigail was pale and drawn too. Poor Ducky’s little face was so blotchy it looked like a strawberry. She called the doctor at noon. He just shook his head and told her to stay close and feed her when she could. Abigail did just that, but Ducky wasn’t complying. Not even the hair trick worked. Daphne didn’t care about her scent—she didn’t care about anything but her father who was very far away by now.

“He’s in bloody Montana while his daughter is here in England dying of a broken heart,” the Baroness muttered in agitation.

By the afternoon of day two, Abigail was truly desperate. She yearned to call Isabel and Trevor, but refused to bother them. Why should she interrupt their marital bliss? This was her problem and hers alone. She paced the halls while the baby hiccupped and coughed between howls.

“This blasted arrangement won’t work at all,” she ranted to herself.

When he’d announced he was going, she’d wanted to ask him to take them along. She’d wanted to beg him actually. “Please, take us with you,” her inner voice had pleaded, but she hadn’t said the words. She had to respect his need for freedom, but not if it meant his daughter couldn’t live without him.

She found poor old Archie in the study, pouring himself a drink. The old gentleman never turned to alcohol for comfort, but they were in dire straits.

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