He came immediately when he learned of her father's death. He made her an offer she couldn't refuse.
It was not a salacious offer. He already knew he was dying. The physicians had given him only a few more months to live. What he wanted was a companion, a friend, someone who might care and shed a tear or two at his passing. He had friends, but no one close to him.
He was fond of saying she had given him a reason to live a bit longer. Jocelyn liked to think that was so.
She was so grateful for the extra months she had been granted with him; he was everything to her, father, brother, mentor, friend, hero, everything except lover, but that could not be helped. He had been incapable of making love to a woman for many years before he even met her. But being an innocent bride of eighteen, she didn't know what she was missing, and so had no re-grets that there was an area of their relationship she wasn't able to explore. She would have been more than willing, but didn't feel cheated.
She simply loved Edward for everything else he was to her.
She sometimes felt she had been born when she met him. Her mother had died before Jocelyn had any real memories of her. Her father spent most of his time in London. Occasionally when he came home he might notice her, but she never felt a closeness to him. Hers had been a lonely, isolated lifejn the country, her only true interest the horses her father bred. Edward had opened up a whole new world to her, of sports, and socials, and women friends, of fancy clothes, and luxuries she never dreamed of. Now she was about to embark on another new life, but without him to guide her. God, how was she going to face it without him?
Jocelyn adjusted her breathing to the smell of sick-ness as she entered the state bedroom. She would not use a scented kerchief to mask the unpleasant odors. She could not do that to him.
He was lying prone in the huge bed in the center of the enormous room, to make his own breathing easier. She saw him watching her as she approached, his gray eyes dull, nearly lifeless already, the skin sunken beneath them, and so deathly pale. It brought tears to her eyes to see him like this, when up until only a few weeks ago he had still been reasonably active, a few weeks before that, hale and hearty, or so he had made her believe — while all along he had been making plans and arrangements for her, know-ing his time was coming to an end.
"Don't look so sad, my dear."
Even his voice didn't sound the same anymore. God, how was she going to say good-bye to him without breaking down?
She reached for his hand lying on top of the velvet cover and brought it to her lips. When she took it away, a smile remained for his benefit, but it lasted only a second.
"That's cheating," she admonished herself and him. "I am sad. I can't help it, Eddie."
A little of the humor that was so much a part of him returned to his eyes at the name no one else had ever dared to call him, even in childhood. "You were always deplorably honest. It's one of the things I most admired about you."
"And I thought it was my excellent horse sense-about horses, that is."
"That too." His own attempt at a smile also failed.
"Are you in pain?" she asked hesitantly.
"Nothing I'm not used to by now."
"Didn't the physician give you—"
"For later, my dear. I wanted to remain lucid to say my good-byes."
"Oh, God!"
"Now, none of that." He tried to sound stern but had never been able to be stern with her. "Please, Jocelyn. I can't bear to see you cry."
She turned her head away to wipe at the tears, but when she looked back at him, they came rushing down her cheeks again. "I'm sorry, but it just hurts so much, Eddie. I wasn't supposed to love you, not like this," she said baldly.
A remark like that would have made him laugh even a few days ago. "I know."
"You told me two months, and I thought — I thought I wouldn't get that attached to you in such a short time. I wanted to make your last months comfortable, to make you happy if I could, because you were doing so much for me. But I wasn't going to get so close that it was going to hurt when… It didn't matter, did it?" A wry smile crossed her lips and then was gone. "Before those two months were up, I already cared too much. Oh, Eddie, can't you give us a little more time? You fooled the doctors before. You can do it again, can't you?"
How he longed to say yes. He didn't want to give up this life, not when happiness had come so late to it.
But he had never deceived her, and wouldn't now. He had been selfish to marry her when there were so many other ways he could have helped her instead. But it was done, and he couldn't really regret the time he had had with her, short as it was, even though it was causing her this grief now. He had wanted someone to care, and she did. He just hadn't realized his own heart would ache because of it, now that he must leave her.
He squeezed her hand in answer to her plea. Seeing her shoulders sag, he knew she understood. He sighed, closing his eyes, but only for a moment.
Looking at her had always given him so much plea-sure, and he needed that right now.
She was incredibly beautiful, though she would be the first to scoff if he said so, and rightly so, since her looks were not in the least fashionable. Her col-oring was too flamboyant for the ton, her red hair too bright, like a bursting flame, her lime-green eyes too unusual in their paleness, and much too expressive. If Jocelyn didn't like you, her eyes said so, for she was too honest for her own good and didn't know the first thing about duplicity. Nor did she conform with other redheads, as there wasn't a single freckle on her flawless ivory skin, skin so pale it was nearly trans-lucent.
Her features were more acceptable, a small oval face graced with gently arching brows, a nose small and straight, a soft, delicate mouth. There was a stub-born lift to her chin, though it was not indicative of temperament, at least not that Edward was aware of. The only stubbornness he had ever been treated to was her objection to leaving England, but in that she had finally given in.
As for the rest of her, well, even he had to admit her figure could have been a bit fuller. She was a touch over average in height, though still several inches shorter than his own medium frame. She had always been an active girl, even more so once she came to Fleming Hall, which would account for the narrow slimness of her shape. And she had lost weight this past month in her worry over him, so that her clothes no longer fitted her properly. Not that she cared. She was not a vain girl by any means. She accepted what she had to work with and did not go to great lengths to improve on it.
Edward, in his folly, had found himself extremely jealous of her, at any rate, and so was glad that other men did not find her as lovely as he did. And since his attachment to her was not sexual, her lack of fig-ure was not at issue.
"Have I told you how grateful I am you agreed to be my duchess?"
"A hundred times, at least."
He squeezed her hand again. She barely felt it.
"Are you and the countess packed?"
"Eddie, don't—"
"We have to talk about it, my dear. You must leave immediately, even if it's the middle of the night."
"It's not right."
He knew what she referred to. "Funerals are de-pressing things, Jocelyn. No purpose can be served by your attending mine, other than to ruin all I've done to see you safe. Promise me?"
She nodded, if reluctantly. He was making it so real, her imminent departure. She had tried not to think of it, as if ignoring it could keep him with her longer. That wasn't possible anymore.
"I sent a copy of your will to Maurice." On seeing her widened eyes, he explained. "I hope it will stay his hand from anything drastic. I am also hoping that once he realizes you've left the country, he will let the matter go and be satisfied with the entailed prop-erties that will come to him. Eaton is rich enough to support him and his large family." She didn't need to stay for the reading of the will, since he had already transferred everything else he owned to her name.