Free The Duke's Secret Desire (Regency Romance) (Regency Lords Book 4) by Regina Darcy

ONE
     
    The heat in the room was stifling. The windows were closed to prevent the air, and whatever contagions were borne upon it, into the sickroom. But the patient enclosed within the bed sheets seemed entirely unaware of the temperature; he was buried in a mount of blankets and still he shivered.
    “Bart!” he called out in a weak voice.
    “I’m here, old chap.”
    Lord Bartholomew Granger, the Duke of Middleton, Baron Danver’s commanding officer and lifelong friend, came closer to his bed.
    “This is on fine pickle you’ve landed yourself in,” he told his friend with a forced smile. “You are not going to let such a small thing as an infection stop you from returning to England are you?”
    “We both know, I won’t survive this darn fever,” Jason Danver responded. He started coughing violently. The Duke reached for the cup of water next to the bed and helped his friend take a sip.
    “Not if you don’t take better care of yourself.”
    “Old chap, I need you to take care of Arya,” Danver said faintly.
    “You’re the only one whom I can trust to put her safety first.”
    When Middleton said nothing, the Baron repeated his request.
    “I will no longer be here to offer her my protection. A protection she sorely needs.” Once again Baron Danver was racked with a persistent cough.
    He took a couple of deep breaths and continued his plea, “She’s an innocent in this nest of vipers. Her family . . . they see her as a pawn and they’ve used her as such. Her mother, while she was alive, never had any influence on the decisions that the Maharajah Sangvitani Singh made, and as for that brother of hers, he’s as duplicitous as the devil himself.”
    His eyes, feverish but intent locked with Bartholomew’s. He gripped the Duke’s arm and held on firmly as he whispered, “Promise me that you’ll look after Arya when I’m gone. I ask you this on the memory and strength of our friendship.”
    The Duke’s heart constricted, his mind still refusing to accept the inevitable. Nevertheless, as his friend continued to stare at him, he finally gave him the answer he was after.
    “Yes. Yes, of course I will, but you mustn’t give up.”
    “No need to pretend. I’m dying and everyone knows it… Arya knows it too.”
    “Where is she?”
    “She can’t be allowed in the sickroom. You see . . . ” a frail smile touched the wan lips of the wasting Baron. “We’re . . . she’s going to have our child. It’s very early yet, but nothing must be done to put the unborn baby in harm’s way. He’ll be the heir to my estate; he must be kept safe. I have nowhere else to turn; no one else but you understands the delicacy of our role in India.” He began to cough in earnest now, his body racked by the spasms.
    Bartholomew bent down to support his friend, bracing his back so that he could sustain the cough without collapsing. “Arya . . . I have tried to be a good husband, and she has tried to be a good wife, but the odds have been against us. She’s half English and half-Indian; both sides regarded her with suspicion. She’s the dearest girl, but when I’m gone she’ll be alone. I need you to give me your word Bart.”
    “Yes, of course. You have my word.”
    The Baron smiled, relief colouring his features.
    “The two of you have always gotten on well; I knew that I could count on you to do right by her. And by my child.”
    “Yes, of course,” the Duke reassured him again.
    The Baron fell back upon the bed, exhausted but relieved.
    “Thank you. There are no words to express my gratitude. You’ve always been there when I needed you.” Danver waved weakly for the glass by his bed; Bartholomew handed it to him. Danver drank deeply then handed it back to his friend.
    “There’s poppy in it; I’ll sleep soon, and very soon, I’ll sleep forever.” He closed his eyes and seemed to drift off. But soon he opened his eyes again.
    “You’ll make sure that my child knows who I was, wont you old chap? If