The Bachelor Earl

by Burke, Darcy

  Graham hurried to her side and caressed her back. Ivy couldn’t hear what was said, if anything.

  West pressed his lips together in a grim line. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up, but Arabella shouldn’t be left alone. You and she must stay together—and stick close to this area in case Leah and Jasper find their way back to the cart. I will strike out with Graham and our men. We’ll choose directions and go individually.”

  Ivy nodded. “A sound plan.”

  West called out to the groom and four footmen who remained.

  She watched as he went to share the scheme with Graham. After Arabella had straightened and Graham had briefly embraced her, Ivy made her way in their direction.

  “I want to go search for them,” Arabella said, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  “We can look around here.” Ivy noted that Arabella still looked rather pale. “But perhaps you should sit in the cart for a few minutes and warm up beneath a blanket.”

  “I’m not unwell. At least, not in a sickness way. I’m with child. I’ve been meaning to ask you how you manage with three.”

  “Not very well, apparently,” Ivy said. No, she wouldn’t think like that. “Come, we must keep a positive outlook. Jasper and Leah are fine. They’ve simply wandered off. Perhaps my daughter has taken after her Aunt Fanny and decided to follow a rabbit.”

  “Isn’t that how Fanny met David?” Arabella asked.

  Ivy nodded. “You’ve heard the story?”

  “Yes. If not for that rabbit, I would likely be married to David instead.” Because their fathers had been best friends and arranged for their children to wed. Unfortunately for their fathers’ plans, David fell in love with Fanny. And as luck would have it, Arabella was meant to be with Graham, who had, incidentally, been David’s secretary before inheriting a dukedom—much to Graham’s shock. David and Graham remained close, which is how Ivy and West had come to know them so well.

  “Now here you are expecting your third child with Graham,” Ivy said, seizing on a happy thought. “How lovely. As to your question about three children, I have it on good authority that anything after three makes no difference whatsoever.”

  “Whose authority is that?” Arabella asked, half-smiling.

  “Nora, of course. And her sister. Jo and Bran just welcomed their fourth some months ago.”

  Arabella nodded in recognition. She was well acquainted with both Nora, the Duchess of Kendal, and Jo, the Countess of Knighton. Their circle of friends was quite large when Ivy thought about it. She could never have guessed this would be her life—a duchess, a husband who adored her and who she adored in return, a large group of close friends, family really, who took care of one another, and of course, her children who she loved beyond measure. Her heart squeezed as she thought of her firstborn.

  No, not her firstborn. She’d delivered a stillborn child many years ago, long before she’d met West. When she’d been young and foolish. Before she’d understood what true love really was, what it could be.

  “I’m feeling a bit better, I think,” Arabella said, drawing Ivy from her thoughts of the past. She walked a few yards. “Jasper! Leah!”

  Ivy pivoted and strode in the opposite direction, circling around the cart. “Jasper! Leah!”

  They continued calling and walking, widening their range with each pass. Ivy tried to calculate how long they’d been gone, but it was impossible. It felt like an eternity, but it was probably not long at all.

  At last, they heard a distant sound. “Arabella!”

  Ivy and Arabella froze then turned toward the sound. Arabella started in that direction, and Ivy followed.

  “Arabella!” This time was louder.

  “It sounds like Graham.”

  “And it sounds like he’s getting closer. Is that a happy tone?” Ivy asked.

  “I...think so?”

  Then they came into view. Graham carried his son while one of the footmen bore Leah. Ivy and Arabella reached for each other at precisely the same moment, providing the other with the support they needed as a wave of great relief washed over them. At least Ivy assumed that’s how Arabella felt. They smiled at each other before breaking apart and rushing to meet their children.

  “My goodness, Jasper, you’re all wet.” Arabella held her arms out, but Graham shook his head and said he’d take him to the cart.

  “Mama, I saw a pretty bird. But it flew away.”

  “That’s when he fell into the stream,” Leah said. “I had to wade in and help him up.”

  Ivy took her daughter from the footman. “Thank you, Harris. So much.” She surveyed Leah’s skirts and feet. She was wet, but not completely so as Jasper was.

  “We need to get Jasper back to the house,” Graham said. “It’s too cold for him to remain out here.”

  Arabella climbed into the cart. “Give him to me, and I’ll wrap him in a blanket.” They’d kept blankets from the other two carts for the return trip.

  Graham helped wrap Jasper up and settle him in his mother’s lap. Arabella fussed over him, but the fear that had tightened her features had gone.

  “You didn’t see West?” Ivy asked as she set Leah into the cart. She didn’t want to leave without him, and yet Jasper had to get inside and out of those wet clothes right away, as did Leah.

  “No,” Graham said. “Do you mind if we go and send a cart back for him?”

  “I’ll stay,” the footman offered then looked to Graham. “If you don’t mind driving the cart, Your Grace?”

  “Boyd can drive!” West called, trotting into the clearing with the groom.

  Ivy exhaled with relief, though they were still missing the other footmen.

  West came to the cart and embraced Leah. “I hope you had an excellent adventure. You gave us a bit of a scare.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa. I had to keep an eye on Jasper.” She cast him a somewhat disgruntled look, and Ivy had to stifle a laugh. “He moves rather fast for a toddler.”

  “That’s my boy,” Graham said. He looked to West. “We need to get Jasper back. He fell into the stream and is soaking wet.”

  “Leah is also a bit damp in the feet,” Ivy said.

  West surveyed their daughter. “I can see that.” He turned to Graham. “Yes, you must go at once. I’ll stay and find the others, then we’ll chop down that cursed log.” He gestured toward the tree the boys had agreed upon.

  “Why is it cursed, Papa?” Leah asked. “I like it.”

  He smiled at her and went to kiss her forehead. “It isn’t, sweetling, especially since you like it. Go on home with your mother, and I’ll be there soon.”

  “But then you’ll be alone,” Leah said, frowning.

  West shook his head and stroked Leah’s cheek. Watching them together brought another tide of relief and love over Ivy. “I won’t be alone at all,” West said. “I have Harris and the others to keep me company until the cart returns. In the meantime, we have to cut down our log.”

  “Can’t Mama stay with you? I promise I’ll go home with Arabella and Graham, and I’ll go straight upstairs for a bath.”

  Was she really only five and a half? She sounded so mature, but then that’s what Ivy had come to expect from her darling girl.

  Arabella looked a bit restless. “I’ll make sure she does.”

  Ivy didn’t want to debate it—not when Arabella needed to get her son home. “All right then. I’ll see you shortly.” She gave Arabella a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  Before the cart left, Harris removed the axe. He turned to West as the vehicle drove away. “Do you wish to do the honors, Your Grace?”

  West looked toward the cart. “I probably should. Leah is watching, and I don’t wish to disappoint her.” He took the axe from Harris and went to the tree. The other footmen arrived and were glad to hear the children had been found.

  “On second thought, I’m going to let you younger men do the hard work lest I hurt myself.” West handed the axe back to Harris. “Plus, I need to comfort Her Gr
ace now that the crisis has passed.” He winked at Ivy, and the footmen chuckled in response.

  Ivy shook her head as her beloved husband came toward her. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You forget that you chop firewood all the time.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “As if you aren’t aware that I watch you.” She rolled her eyes then settled them on him with a warm intensity. “How can I not when you remove your shirt?”

  “I don’t do that every time.”

  “No, and that’s a shame.”

  West wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close to his chest. “You’re all right? About Leah, I mean.”

  “Yes, we’ll talk with her about it when we get home. She should have told us she was going after Jasper.”

  “Except, if she was merely following him, she may not have realized she needed to say anything.” He rested his forehead against Ivy’s. “Sometimes we forget she’s only five.”

  “And a half. But yes, you’re right.” Ivy’s chest constricted for a moment. “I won’t forget that again.” She raised her hands between them and grasped the lapels of his coat. “Arabella said she’s expecting their third child. She asked if it was difficult to manage three. After today, I can unequivocally say, yes.”

  “Oh dear, does that mean there won’t be a fourth?”

  “It won’t be for our lack of trying.”

  West brushed his lips against hers. “No, it won’t. And I look forward to another attempt later.”

  Ivy giggled. “Just one?”

  His eyes sparked with desire and love. “Oh, now you’re tempting me. But then you always do, my love. Don’t ever stop.”

  “Never.” She kissed him, heedless of the footmen and their task, even when they felled the tree.

  It was a Yule log hunt she would never forget.

  * * *

  Part Two

  Lionel cringed as the cart hit another deep rut in the track on the way back to Stour’s Edge, West’s ancestral pile. Emmaline let out a low moan and squirmed on the seat.

  “We’re almost there,” he said encouragingly.

  She pushed out a long breath and narrowed her eyes at him. “We aren’t either. I need to get off this bench. Will you help me to the floor of the cart?”

  “Anything.” He just wanted her to be comfortable and safe. And for their child to be safe.

  Picking up an extra blanket, he spread it on the wood floor of the cart. He guided her from the bench and eased her onto the blanket. She took the blanket that was already draped around her and settled it across her midsection. “Would you sit behind me so I can lean on you?” she asked.

  Lionel moved quickly to position himself so she could be more comfortable. He put his legs on either side of her so she was nestled firmly into his embrace and could recline against his chest. Then he pulled the blanket up to her neck. “How’s this?”

  “As good as it’s going to get, I’m afraid.” The last word ended on a sharp intake of air.

  He felt her body tighten and knew a pain was shooting through her. He recalled the births of their first two children all too well. “Just breathe, my love.” He slid his hands beneath the blanket and gently massaged her biceps.

  The pain seemed to last longer than any of the others, which he knew was not a good sign. Well, it was a good sign as far as the babe coming soon, but he wanted to make sure they got back to Stour’s Edge and had time to organize everything for the birth. He still couldn’t believe it was already happening. He turned his head and urged the groom to drive faster.

  When the pain subsided, she melted against him, her body feeling like jelly. Lionel kissed her temple.

  “Why is this babe coming early?” Emmaline ran her hands over her belly in large, circular strokes.

  He heard the worry in her voice and worked to keep any from his. “She’s impatient. Clearly, she saw how much fun we were having on the Yule log hunt and wanted to join in.”

  “She? You always assume I’m having a girl.”

  “And so far I’ve been right fifty percent of the time. I like my odds.”

  “The hunt was fun until Leah and Jasper went missing. I hope they’ve been found.”

  “I’m sure they have,” Lionel said, bringing his hands to her shoulders and then sliding them back down to her elbows.

  Her body clenched again, and Lionel held his breath. He looked toward the manor house, willing it to come into sight. Come on.

  The cart hit another rut, the deepest one yet. Lionel and Emmaline flew up off the floor and crashed back hard. Emmaline cried out as the cart pitched. The rear corner dove toward the earth, and it was obvious to Lionel that they’d lost a wheel.

  “Bloody hell!” He held tightly to his wife as the pain worked through her. He turned his head and watched as the groom leapt from the front seat and dashed around to the back of the cart.

  The groom’s gaze met Lionel’s, and it was all Lionel needed to see. He looked again in the direction of Stour’s Edge. They were at least a mile away. How could he carry a laboring woman that far? He could do it—he would do it. But she’d be in agony.

  “The other cart will be along shortly,” the groom said.

  Emmaline relaxed in his arms. It was due to the pain subsiding, Lionel knew, but he was sure the groom’s proclamation helped.

  Lionel couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of the other cart. A great relief rushed over him. “Of course. We’ll just wait. I’ll hold on to you, my love.”

  “I feel as if we’re sliding toward the ground,” Emmaline said.

  He realized it was more than just a feeling. They were slipping in the direction of the lost wheel. He looked to the groom. “Will you help me remove her from the cart?”

  The groom nodded and sprang to action. He reached for Emmaline’s hand. Once he had her in his grip, he used his other hand to brace her upper arm and shoulder. Lionel pushed back from her and slid around her other side. Keeping hold of her, he guided her down the cart then scrambled from the vehicle. Once he was on the ground, he bent and picked her up. The groom let her go, and Lionel hefted her in his arms.

  “Grab the blanket and spread it on the ground,” he bade the groom.

  The groom took the blanket and settled it off the track near a tree. Lionel set Emmaline down so she could lean against the trunk. “The other cart will be here shortly.”

  She grimaced as her belly tightened once more. “We’re out of time.”

  “No, we’re only a mile from the house. We’ll get there before the babe comes.”

  Her gaze met his. “Lionel, you aren’t understanding me. The babe is coming now.”

  He blinked at her. “She can’t.”

  She tipped her head to the side, her eyes nearly closing until they were mere slits. “I’ve done this before. I think I know when my babe is about to be born.”

  Of course she did. As much as he wanted his child born under a roof, he knew that children did whatever they damn well pleased.

  “What do you want me to do?” Fear and anxiety gripped him so hard he could barely breathe.

  “The blanket, please.” She had to work to get the words out as she endured a lasting pain. Lines grooved into her forehead, and her lips paled.

  Lionel grabbed it from where it had fallen when he’d swept her into his arms. “What do I do with it?”

  “Bunch it... up.” She exhaled long and loud. “Put it behind me.”

  The bark had to be hard against her back. Blast, he should have realized that. He did his best to make a giant pillow of sorts then leaned her forward to place it behind her. Gently, he guided her backward so that she was propped up.

  She readjusted her position, moving her backside down and parting her legs as she planted her feet on the ground. “You’re going to have to guide him out.”

  He noted that she referred to the babe as a he but decided this was not the time to engage in an argument. Dropping to his knees, he lifted the hems of her skirts, push
ing them up to her knees. Right away, he saw the top of the babe’s head. He’d seen this before, but there’d been a doctor present! And Emmaline had been inside! On a bed!

  Lionel swallowed and eased forward so he was between her calves. He steeled himself for what would come next. There would be liquid and yelling and, he prayed, a babe’s cry.

  “I need a hand!” Emmaline growled.

  “I’m helping,” Lionel said.

  She pulled her skirts back until her thighs were completely exposed.

  “To hold!” she yelled.

  Lionel looked at the groom, who’d stood back and frankly looked as if he wanted to disappear into the ground. “Come hold her hand, please.” Silently, he pleaded with the man to swallow his discomfort and be a source of help and comfort.

  Thankfully, the groom hastened to Emmaline’s side. He was careful to avert his gaze from her exposed lower half as he took her hand. Emmaline instantly squeezed it so hard his fingers turned white.

  “Sorry about that,” Lionel murmured, knowing from experience how fierce his wife’s grip was.

  Emmaline cried out and bore down, her face turning red. Liquid rushed from her as the babe’s head came free. Lionel clasped the warm, wet scalp as emotion barreled into his throat. He held it back. Later he would give in, but now he needed to focus completely.

  “The head is free,” he said.

  There was a moment of respite as Emmaline drew deep breaths, and the groom’s hand regained its flow of blood. Then she groaned as she pushed again, this time freeing the babe’s shoulders.

  The sound of the next cart brought welcome relief, but Lionel didn’t take his eyes from his child. He held onto her slick body gently but securely.

  “Oh my god! Everyone stay in the cart.” It was Fanny. “David, fetch a blanket for the babe.”

  Lionel glanced up at Emmaline’s face and saw the relief in her gaze just before she tightened once more, her body bearing down as she pushed the child from her body.

  Clasping the small babe, Lionel stared at the perfect form, red and wrinkled, and very much what he’d predicted: a girl. She did not cry. Instead, her blue eyes were wide as they took in the world around her. She looked as amazed as he felt to have welcomed her to the world beneath a tree along the side of the road.