In the next enduring weeks, with her pregnancy progressing and restricting much of her movements, she grew easily fatigued and confined to bed a majority of time.

            Accompanying her constant tiredness was a great deal of curiosity. She began to see less and less of Dorian, at first surmising that he had other affairs to manage, she simply brushed disquieting notions aside, that is until days on end of scarcely seeing him increased her skepticism.

            Troubling thoughts took root, disconcerting her mind as to where he could be during his time of absence. Much time alone and spent abed had her weighing these thoughts heavily; a fleeting intuition of doubt and uncertainty clouding the base of her mind.

            She was abed early one morning, awaiting a servant as her mind grew increasingly agitated and unnerved by her relentless assumptions.

            She nearly jumped out of her skin when a knock resounded in the room. Ginelle waited as Lucile entered quietly, expecting her to be asleep.

            “You’re awake?” the housekeeper exclaimed surprisingly. “I expected you abed until midday. How are you feeling, my pet?” she asked, moving forward to examine Ginelle more closely.

            “I am fine.” She replied coolly. “Where is Dorian?” she watched the older woman carefully, keen to note that her dark eyes averted nervously.

            Ginelle narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “Lucile, if there is something you know that I don’t-I trust that you would tell me.”

            Lucile shifted awkwardly on her heels, almost anxiously, heightening her suspicions. “He and Lieutenant Cummings are conducting business.”

            Ginelle frowned, “What sort of business? Is it plantation work? A trade?” she noticed the older woman tensing, hastening for an explanation. “Lucile, I feel that you are not entirely speaking the truth. What is going on?” she demanded.

            “I cannot say, my dear. It is for the best that you not know and that you stay abed.”

            “I am not ill, Lucile.” Ginelle asserted, “I am with child and I believe I have the right to know where the father of my child is? Don’t you?”

            Lucile straightened her broad shoulders, releasing a heavy sigh as she met Ginelle’s penetrating stare. “Trust me, my dear; all is as it should be.”

            Suspecting she wouldn’t get the answers she sought, she let the matter fall and exhaled a breath of frustration. She trusted in the older woman and knew she would not keep matters of importance from her, so what than was going on beneath her nose? She knew Dorian was up to something but what? What kept him away for such a prolonged period of time?

            When Dorian returned to her that night, she feigned sleep, too angry to question his whereabouts; she decided to avoid it entirely. She listened intently as he shuffled about the darkened room, his movements more profound against the quiet as he moved from one corner to another, at one point, she thought him standing above her, peering down at her, the sound of his breathing emitting the silence.

            A part of her wanted to question him, to demand an explanation for his absence, for leaving her alone for days on end without a reason to why but she feared shadowing thoughts, notions that she dare not bring to the forefront, fearing they may be true.

            She felt her heart sink even deeper in her chest as his footsteps carried him away and out the room. She opened her eyes and stared around, disappointed to find she was alone.

            Unable to keep them at bay any longer, she thought mayhap he no longer found her attractive? Her belly was swollen with child and she had gained a bit of weight. Did he find her unappealing? Did he not love her as he had claimed too?

            Fighting tears, she sank back down and forced herself asleep.

            Her anger intensified the next evening. She had been alone most of the day, aside from Thora and Belle accompanying her for a time and engaging in small conversation but after sensing her saddened and distant mood, the girls left to carry on with their tasks.

            She was trying to focus on the book in her hands when a voice sounded from within the hall. Ginelle lifted her head as Ellison entered the room, surprised to see that her green eyes that usually illuminated a happiness was slightly perplexed with confliction.

            Frowning, Ginelle set her book aside. “Ellison? Is something the matter?”

            Ellison paced the room, not bothering to remove her cloak as her feet carried her back and forth. 

            Anxiety forced her heart into a frantic rhythm as she studied her friend. “What is it?” she demanded. “Would you come and sit with me?”

            Ellison stopped pacing and moved to settle by her. For a moment, she was silent and Ginelle lightly gripped Ellison’s shoulder. “I -“ she murmured softly.

            Ginelle felt her pulse accelerate anxiously. “What?”

            “I am afraid to tell you. I do not know how to say it-what to make of it.” She mumbled.

            Ginelle shook her head, “I am not understanding, Ellison. What is wrong? Has something happened?” she squeezed her friend’s shoulder, “Is it Edmund?” when silence followed she felt a sudden dryness in her throat, “Dorian?”

            Ellison lifted her head, her expression torn as she said, “I saw Dorian in town, and he was escorting a woman, a woman with red hair.”

            Ginelle gasped as the blood drained from her face, all her fears emphasizing the amount of shock and disbelief.

            She felt a violent rush of tears as she shook her head determinedly as if to convince herself that the red-headed woman was not Victoria. “No, he wouldn’t-“ she clamped her mouth shut realizing just how foolish it would be to dislodge the assumption.

            Ellison reached out and gripped Ginelle’s hand in her own, her raven curls bouncing on her shoulders as she shook her head. “As I said, I do not know what to make of it, I could be mistaken-“

            “There is no mistake.” She said sorely, “She is his mistress. What other purpose is there than to share his bed?” she suddenly felt cold and wanted nothing more than to seek slumber, anything to avoid the bombardment of pain.

            “I’m tired.” She whispered achingly.

            “Do you wish for me to stay?” Ellison asked worriedly.

            Ginelle shook her head, “I need to be alone.”

            She closed her eyes and listened as Ellison quietly left the room. For a time she laid immobile to the uncanny absence of sound as the room grew darker, signifying the approach of dusk, all the while, waiting for him to return.

            Hours passed with growing anxiety. She knew Ellison would not have conjured such a lie, so what had she done? Did he find her unattractive now that her belly was swollen with child? Did he think her uncomely?

            She felt her chest tightening as these thoughts scrambled through her mind. Why would he take Victoria back after what she had done? Had all his heartfelt confessions been a lie simply to lure her back to him because she was to have his child?

            She wanted to scream but had not the strength to do so; instead she turned into her pillow and wept until she could do so no longer.

**********

            Ginelle was startled awake the next morning. She turned to see that the spot next to her was unstirred, meaning Dorian had never come to bed.

            She pulled herself up and stiffened to see the very object of her thoughts studying her from across the room, the faint morning light playing beautifully across his handsome face. Her chest constricted with pain and anger to how he could look so strikingly handsome yet hurt her in such an unimaginable way.

            She wanted to weep, wanted to scream until her lungs were aching, instead she remained silent and aloof.

            “Are you well?” he asked carefully, noting her remoteness and the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

            “You need not worry to my wellbeing.” She replied icily.

            He appeared taken aback, surprised by her reply. She watched him carefully, observing the sharp glint in his blue eyes as they assessed her intensely. “Are you angry?” he asked, certain of the answer.

            She felt the insidious urge to laugh. “Angry? Why would I be?” she snapped sarcastically.

            A black brow arched purposefully as he crossed the room to her and immediately she was annoyed to her body’s reaction to his nearness. “Tell me what has made you angry, my sweet one?” he reached out to touch her and she jerked away.

            “I’d rather you not touch me.” She hissed.

            “Confound it woman, what have I done?” he demanded.

            She felt the tears rushing to the surface and she wanted to curse herself for her sensitive little heart. “Nothing.” She said dejectedly, turning her head away to avoid his knowing stare.

            He reached out and pulled her to him and despite her hurt and anger, she allowed him to hold her, loving the feel of his arms wrapped warmly around her. He placed his chin atop her head and said gently, “I am sorry that I haven’t been around.”

            She felt her chin quiver and she clenched her eyes shut against tears. Just tell me the truth. She urged her heart heavy in her chest. Tell me you do not love her.

            “Are you well enough to travel?” Ginelle jerked her head sideways, surprised to see Dorian at the door dressed in his black cloak and patent-leather boots.

            She frowned, “Where are we going?”

            He approached her and gently took the needle work from her hands and set it aside. She would have preferred to avoid touching him but he insisted on helping her to her feet. “There is somewhere we need to be.”

            Curious she asked, “Where is that?”

            “I cannot say as of now. Are you well?” his blue eyes searched her face, noting the weary lines beneath her tired eyes.

            She wrenched her hands from his and jerked her chin upward. “I am perfectly capable of moving about without your help.” She snapped as she started around him, oblivious to the small perk of his lips as he found her haughtiness amusing.

            “I am not ill.” She insisted, attempting to bend over to retrieve her cloak.

            Dorian grinned as he moved forward and seized it, catching her low huff of agitation as he motioned her to turn around. He wrapped her comfortably in her cloak and assisted her with her shoes before finishing.

            “Where are we going?” she insisted as he led her from the room and into the hall. She was instinctively aware of his hand gripping hers and wanted to pull away but knew if she tried he wouldn’t permit it.   

            A small, cold draft hit her face as they stepped outside. She shivered within her cloak and was momentarily comforted as Dorian’s arm slipped around her waist, pulling her gently to his side for warmth.

            He had a carriage waiting and helped her into the small compartment. He followed behind and seated himself next to her. She would have distanced herself but because of the coldness quickly seeping into her bones, she remained at his side.

            “Can you please tell me where we’re going?” she pleaded as the carriage rolled into motion.

            “You will know soon enough.”

            She frowned as she turned to look at him, slightly unnerved by his reply and more confounded for she couldn’t determine his expression.

            She gritted her teeth, wanting to vent her frustration and anger. He was full of secrets. How could they ever have a life together when he revealed nothing to her?

            It wasn’t long before they reached their destination and the carriage came to a stop before a magnificent town house.

            Confused, Ginelle stared out the window at the marvelous structure looming above, her mind more bewildered than ever. The coachman opened the carriage door and Dorian stepped out. He turned and extended a hand to her but she remained motionless.

            “Where are we, Dorian?” there was fear to her voice and he sensed it.

            “I am meeting a friend.” He said as if to appease her worry.

            “Than what reason do you have for bringing me?”

            His brows furrowed as he peered at her, “What have you to fear? I would let nothing harm you, ma petite.”

            She worried her bottom lip as she glanced fearfully at the beautiful house. “Who are we meeting?”

            “Come, Ginelle. It is cold and I wish to get you inside.”

            For a jarring moment, she imagined he had actually taken her to Victoria’s home. Surely he wouldn’t do such a thing?

            Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his and he gingerly led her from the carriage. He placed his arm around her shoulders as they made their way towards the stone steps where a servant appeared at the top, awaiting them with a smile.

            “Please Monsieur Ashford, come inside.” The small man urged, quickly closing the door behind them and ushering them forward into a brilliant blue room with impressive pieces of porcelain scattered throughout, and plush carpet cushioning their feet as they moved to be seated onto a strikingly white sofa.

            “Dorian please tell me what’s going on?” Ginelle pleaded quietly.

            Just as he intended to say something, a man’s voice started from within the hall. Dorian stood and Ginelle followed, turning as the man entered the room.

            Her eyes widened as she took an involuntary step backward.

            She felt Dorian’s hands on her shoulders as he said, “Ginelle, you’ve met Edric Collins. He is the Marquis of Northampton.”

            She pivoted around, baffled as she stared up at Dorian. “Why would you bring me here?”

            “He is of no danger to you.” Dorian said assuredly.

            “But-“ she glanced fearfully at Edric before back at Dorian. “He tried to steal me away?”

            “Only to protect you.” Edric responded quickly.

            She frowned, shaking her head. “No-you knew about Pierino? You were at the banquet? You were working for him, how else would you know about me?”

            He was silent as he stepped towards her and she stiffened as his eyes dropped to the locket around her neck. He pointed and said, “Because you wear her locket.”

            She gasped, her hand intuitively reaching for her cherished trinket. “H-how do you know that?” she whispered shockingly.

            Edric said nothing but merely stepped aside as another body entered the parlor. Ginelle slowly turned away from Edric to the small, blond woman entering the room and she felt the world tilter as a jolt of shock registered one word breathlessly from her throat.

            “Mother?”

**********