Free The Wagered Wife by Wilma Counts Page B

who seemed so genuinely concerned about her welfare. She could not help drawing a comparison with the last woman she had addressed as “Aunt.” Gertude Hermiston was a far cry from Sylvia Fiske.
    Aunt Gertrude’s presence brought an immediate change in the attitudes of certain members of the staff. Mrs. Bassett became positively obsequious, and it was apparent that Perkins took greater care in preparing meals.
    Caitlyn and Aunt Gertrude actually reveled in each other’s company. Gertrude confided that she had always wanted a daughter, and Caitlyn had missed much in losing her mother at such a young age. She became more and more fond of Lady Gertrude.
    Then their happy amicability encountered a serious rupture.
    Caitlyn was with child.
    The two women discovered it almost simultaneously. Caitlyn had not felt well for several days. When she abruptly left the breakfast table two days in a row, Aunt Gertrude followed her to her bedchamber, where Caitlyn lay on the bed after losing her breakfast again.
    Aunt Gertrude’s expression was grim. “So. You are in an interesting condition. I did not believe those rumors, but it appears I was wrong.”
    â€œI . . . I do not know what you are talking about.” Then Caitlyn remembered that cartoon. “Oh. Oh, no. You have it all wrong. I am not with child—I cannot be. Trevor and I . . . we . . . Well, we were only together for a week or so.”
    â€œAnd before that?” Aunt Gertrude’s voice was distant, unrelenting.
    â€œBefore . . . ? There was no ‘before,’ ” Caitlyn said. “Please. You must believe me. I just have a touch of the flu.”
    â€œThe nine-months variety. I would stake my life on it.”
    â€œOh, no. It cannot be.” It came out as a wail of utter despair. Caitlyn, caught up in her own emotions, did not immediately notice Lady Gertrude’s reaction. Later, when she considered the scene again, she thought there was a softening in the older woman’s demeanor.
    â€œWell, my girl, you must know it takes only once.”
    â€œTruly?”
    Lady Gertrude looked at her in surprise. “Truly. When was your last monthly?”
    Embarrassed, Caitlyn told her and watched as Aunt Gertrude’s face registered the mental calculation she was doing.
    â€œWell. If you are telling the truth—and I must say I am inclined to believe you—the babe must be Trevor’s.”
    Caitlyn felt anger and indignation rise at this. “Of course it is Trevor’s. I went to my marriage bed a virgin—and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.”
    â€œWhat about that Latham lad? Your name was linked to his in London gossip.”
    â€œBertie? Bertie never touched me.” Then she blushed and added, “That is, not beyond a few very innocent kisses. Even I know it takes more than a kiss to make a babe.”
    â€œWell, now. Calm down, my dear. Strong emotion is not good for the babe. This situation puts a new twist on matters.”
    Eight months later—give or take a few days—Caitlyn Maria Woodbridge Jeffries was delivered of a healthy baby girl whom she promptly christened Ashley Gertrude.

Six
    May, 1814
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    In the aftermath of Wellington’s successful campaign against French forces in the Iberian Peninsula, the British army was sent home. London’s citizenry threw themselves into victory celebrations. Every ball or rout—the streets themselves—boasted a sprinkling of uniforms.
    Among the soldiers returning to civilian life were Major Ruskin and his friend Captain Jeffries. Nearly five years of warfare had toughened them, turning naive youngsters into men, incompetent officers into seasoned leaders. Among Peninsula veterans Ruskin and Jeffries were quite well known—and respected—as a formidable team.
    The journey from Portsmouth, where their ship had landed, had been long and tiring, but they had dropped into a gentlemen’s club