The Concubine (Unexpected Circumstances 5)

“He has given me no other options, Alexandra.” Branford released my cheek and sat back, pulling his knees up in front of him. “The court will side with him if I do not have an heir on the way.”

“Hadley said…she said you stopped coming to her.”

Branford glanced at me sideways.

“She was not supposed to speak of it,” he mumbled. “Obviously she is unable to bear children, or she…”

He stopped speaking and rubbed his fingers into his eyes.

“I do not wish to speak of this,” he said. “I will not go back to her.”

I bit my lower lip as I looked away from him. The conversation I had with Hadley in the Women’s Room filled my head. I swallowed hard and then turned to him—steeling myself to speak words that would likely mean death if they were to come from someone else’s mouth.

“What if it is not Hadley who cannot bear a child?” I asked quietly. My shoulders curled inward with the tension held in them.

“Obviously she cannot bear a child,” Branford said with a growl. “If she could, she would have by now!”

“But what if it is not her?” I repeated as I closed my eyes.

“What else could it be, Alexandra?”

“Branford…” I paused and took a deep breath. “It could be you.”

“Do not be ridiculous.”

“But what if it is?” I asked. “What if it is you who cannot father a child, and it has nothing to do with either me or Hadley?”

He shook his head.

“Branford, if it is you, it would not matter how many concubines you took. It wouldn’t matter if you married Whitney!”

“It is not me, Alexandra.”

“It could be.”

“No, it could not,” Branford insisted as he glared at me. “Even making such a suggestion…”

“How do you know it could not be you?” I finally said back to him. When he did not respond, I pressed again and again until he gave me an answer that had never taken form in my mind.

“Because I have already fathered a child!” Branford screamed as his fists pounded against the ground. He stood and walked several feet away from me.

My head dropped forward as I stared at a spot on the blanket in front of where I sat. I felt chilled though the breeze through the meadow was warm.

“Branford?” I whispered. Though my voice was low, he turned toward me, his eyes downcast.

“I was young,” he said quietly. “I did not think of the consequences of…of spilling my seed inside of her.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Bridgett, the daughter of the Duke of Seacrest.”

I looked up then and stared into his face.

“Why did you not say this before?” I asked, my voice filled with uncustomary censure. “Could not this child be your heir?”

When he did not respond, I reconsidered and then questioned him again.

“Is it a girl child?”