Pushing herself to a seated position against the pillows, she smiled, and the reason why he had been so quick to vow to never leave her struck him hard. He loved the way the corners of her mouth quirked up, the manner in which her eyes warmed with pleasure. He wished he’d be able to honor every promise he made to her since his return.
He was barely aware of striding toward the bed until he reached it and sat on the edge of the mattress. She smelled of sleep and faintly of sex, a seductive perfume. He combed the dark strands back from her face. “I should brush out your hair.”
“I should let you, but it might lead to other things.”
He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, her lips. “It no doubt would.”
“We have to behave.”
“Pity.”
She giggled, the echo of a young woman filled with joy. He couldn’t recall ever hearing her make such a whimsical sound. “I don’t know why I doubted. Being with child has caused havoc with my emotions.”
“Don’t doubt.” Cradling her face, he took her mouth as tenderly as he could, holding his own needs in check. Her fingers went up into his hair. It was tempting to just sink onto her.
Instead, he pushed back, stood. “I should probably be about my day. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Her look was sly, provocative. “If not before.”
Why were ladies served their breakfast in bed?
Edward had pondered the thought while eating his own breakfast in the smaller dining room and staring at an article in the newspaper that Rigdon had dutifully ironed. The paper was a couple of days old, having arrived with several others the day before. Now, sitting at the desk in the library, staring at the snow that continued to swirl beyond the window, he doubted deliveries of anything would be made today.
He finally had a handle on the land, the tenants, the potential for income. At least for this estate. In the spring, he would need to travel to the other two that were temporarily in his keeping until the heir reached his majority. He wondered if he should invite Julia to accompany him so she could see what her son would inherit. Although his brother had no doubt already shown her. Besides, come spring, she might still be rather cross with him.
Leaning back in the chair, drumming his fingers on the mahogany desk, he knew that all the pleasant moments he had to spend with her would soon be coming to an end. So why the devil was he sitting here going over ledgers, calculating sums, and striving to determine how to make the estate more profitable? He would have ample time to do all that when his days and nights were filled with little save his own company. Odd that he didn’t envision himself filling his nights with women and drink.
Spending so much time in her company had ruined him. Only fair, he supposed, that suffering was in his near future. But it wasn’t yet time to step out of his brother’s shoes. Yes, all this could bloody well wait. For now, he needed to stock up on memories.
And he knew just where to begin, where he would find her.
Only she wasn’t in the room where she worked with her watercolors. Not that he blamed her for not seeking solace here when one could barely see the landscape beyond the windows. When was the blasted weather going to quiet and still?
On the other hand, it was perfect weather for sitting before a roaring fire with a bit of warm brandy. Perhaps he would ask her to read aloud from Madame Bovary. He smiled with the image of her finding that book in his room—
His mouth went flat. Surely she wasn’t in there now searching for something provocative to read. He had yet to go through his trunk, to go through Albert’s. It was not a chore he was welcoming. He kept telling himself that tomorrow he could get to it. So many tomorrows had already passed, and still he hadn’t taken care of matters.
No, she wouldn’t go there. The residence was so large, she could be in any one of a hundred rooms.
He strode into the hallway. Why did they need a residence this large anyway? As far as he knew, royalty hadn’t visited since Elizabeth. Wasn’t that what Marsden had mentioned one night? How a previous earl had been one of her favorites? What did it matter now? It didn’t. Finding Julia mattered.
“You there!” he called out to a passing footman, who stopped and faced him. “Do you know where I might find Lady Greyling?”
“No, m’lord. I’ve not seen her today.”
Could she still be abed? Not that he would blame her, when the weather was so dismal. Joining her there, though, could lead to things. It seemed neither of them had much willpower when it came to being pleasured. He waved his hand at the footman. “Carry on.”
And he did the same, glancing in one room after another, finding each absent of her. Not even her scent lingered. He was not on the correct trail.
When he reached the foyer, he bounded up the stairs to the wing that contained the family’s bedchambers. He rapped on her door. No answer. He shoved it open. Empty.
Back into the hallway. He walked briskly toward the bedchamber at the end that had been designated as his whenever he visited. The door was open. Not a good sign. He’d instructed the servants not to go in there. He’d given no such instruction to Julia.
Crossing the threshold, he came up short at the sight of her sitting on the floor, the lid of a trunk raised, her head bent, a leather journal in her lap.
“I said I would see to his things,” he snapped, immediately regretting the tartness of his tone.
She looked up. “Edward’s, yes. But this is yours.” She lifted the book. “All your journal entries begin ‘My Dearest Darling.’ You wrote to me every day while you were away. Why didn’t you share this with me?”
Because I didn’t know it bloody well existed. “I was saving it to give to you for Christmas.” Liar. God, he wanted to bite off his tongue at her crestfallen expression.
“I’ve ruined your surprise.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He crossed over to her, crouched, placed his elbows on his thighs. “You shouldn’t be messing with this. I’ll get to it eventually.”
“I know, but you’ve been so busy, and I knew you hadn’t gotten to your things, so I thought to help out.” She placed her hand on his wrist. “I’m in the strangest mood. I feel as though I need to do something, and I’m not sure what. Do you know I actually made my own bed this morning? The poor maid didn’t know what to make of me. I tidied the nursery when there was nothing to tidy. I just wanted to do something a bit more productive. And I’ve only managed to upset you.”
“I’m not upset. I simply don’t want you putting yourself out. I suppose we could go through it together.” Although he truly wanted to do it alone. He had no idea what he might find in his brother’s trunk. Nothing that would reveal the truth, that was for certain, but still he would be reliving the memories. Best to do those on his own.
Shaking her head, placing her hands to her lower back, she arched. “I’m losing interest. My back has been aching all morning. I must have slept on it wrong.”
“You should be abed, then.”
“I don’t feel like lying down. Perhaps I should walk.”
“You are aware there is a storm outside?”
She smiled. “I can walk through the residence. We have an abundance of corridors here that would suffice.”
Reaching around her, he pressed his hands against the small of her back, rubbing gently. She moaned softly. “Oh, that feels good.”
“Let’s go to your bedchamber. You can lie on your side and I’ll massage your back for a bit.”
“Thought you had business to see to.”
“None of my business is more important than your comfort.”
“You’ve convinced me.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “May I keep the journal?”
Where was the harm? Obviously, Albert had intended for her to have it, since it was a series of letters to her. “Of course. Now let’s get you up.”
As gradually as
possible, providing her with all the support he could, he helped her get to her feet. She took a step, released a small cry, bent and slapped a hand on her stomach. “Oh my God.”
“What is it?” he asked, circling an arm around her shoulders, fighting off his alarm that something might be terribly wrong.
“A pain shot through me.” She looked at him, horror in her eyes. “There’s . . . something wet trickling down the inside of my legs. Oh, my word—”
He swept her into his arms. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right.”
“It’s too soon.” Her voice was thick with tears, laced with panic.
“It might not be what we think.” He hoped with everything within him that it wasn’t. With long strides, he carried her out of the room, down the hallway, and into her bedchamber. Tenderly, he placed her on the bed. “I’m going to have a look, all right?”
She nodded, but the fear reflected in her eyes was tearing him apart. He didn’t have to push her skirts up far before he saw the dampness tinged with blood. Before he could say anything, she cried out, her hands balling around the covers as she squeezed her eyes shut.
He felt helpless and powerless, able to do little more than watch as she struggled through the pain.
When she opened her eyes, tears were welling and she was gasping. “He’s coming. The baby’s coming. It’s too soon. It’s far too soon.”
Dropping her head back down onto the pillow, she began to cry in earnest, the tears leaking onto her cheeks.
“Look at me, Julia, look at me.”
She rolled her head from side to side, once again squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m scared, so scared.”
He was terrified as well, but he couldn’t let her know it, couldn’t let so much as a drop of his terror seep out of him. It would only serve to reaffirm her fears, cause her to panic. “Julia.” He placed his hands on either side of her face. “Look at me, look in my eyes.”
Finally she did, and he had never been more sure of anything than he was of this. “You will not lose this child. And I will not lose you. I won’t allow it.”
“You cannot control fate.”
“Fate owes me on this. I will not let anything happen that will cause me to lose either of you.”
Blinking back the tears, she nodded, her mouth going into a firm line signaling that she was as resolute as he. “Yes, all right. But it’s not time.”
“Apparently this little one is of the opinion that it is. So let’s have a little faith here. Relax. Be strong. Be brave. We have a child to bring into this world.”
Chapter 11
How could she not believe him when he sounded so certain? A calm settled over her as she watched him yank on the bellpull that would summon her maid.
“Do you think it’s because of what we did last night?” she asked.
He looked at her, conviction mirrored in her eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“How do you know?”
“I should think this would have happened last night.”
She wanted to believe him, so at least she could sweep away the guilt. “He’s coming a month early.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, took her hand. “Maybe not quite. How can a physician accurately determine the date of delivery when he doesn’t know the exact moment of conception?”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“Trust me, Jules, you’re not going to lose this one.”
Wanting to believe him with every fiber of her being, she nodded. “Yes, all right.” Another contraction hit her, and she squeezed his hand, almost certain she heard bones crack, although since he didn’t yelp, but only folded his other hand over her shoulder, she had to be mistaken.
The pain receded, she breathed deeply. The door opened and Torrie stepped in.
“Have someone ride into the village to fetch the physician,” Albert barked.
“In this weather?”
“In this weather. Find a servant who knows something about delivering babies. Then get yourself back up here to help your lady change.”
Torrie pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my dear lord. Is she—”
“Yes, now go tend to matters.”
Torrie ran from the room, her pounding footsteps echoing up the stairs.
“I do so love it when you’re forceful,” Julia said.
Laughing, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Later, we’ll discuss less dramatic ways for you to encourage me to be forceful. For now, let’s see about getting you into your nightdress, shall we?”
By the time Torrie returned, he had all the fastenings undone on her dress. Stepping aside, leaving Torrie to help her with the final stages of getting into her nightdress, he went to the fireplace and stoked the fire.
As Julia was settling beneath the covers, Mrs. Bedell, the housekeeper, walked in. “It’s been a good many years since I helped me mum deliver her last bairn, but I was young enough that it made an impression.” She turned to Albert. “You go on now, your lordship. We’ll see to Lady Greyling and the little one.”
“Not bloody likely,” her husband said as he shoved a chair nearer to the other side of the bed, then dropped down into it and took Julia’s hand.
“It’s not proper for you to be here, m’lord.”
“It’s proper for a husband to get his wife with child but not to be in attendance as the child is born? That’s rubbish.” Reaching up, he stroked the hair back from her face. “Unless you want me to go.”
He hadn’t been with her when she’d lost the other three. She didn’t know what to expect here, what he might witness, but she needed his determination, his sureness. “No, I want you to stay. You’re my strength.”
He pressed his mouth against her knuckles. “We’ll get through this.”
Sometime later she realized those words were extremely easy for him to say when he wasn’t the one with pain ratcheting through his body. But bless him, he never flinched, no matter how hard she squeezed his hand. He merely cooed encouraging words and wiped a cool cloth over her brow. And he told her stories, about his childhood, his travels. He made her laugh when she’d thought the act impossible, made her believe that before the day was done, she’d be holding a squalling babe in her arms.
Beyond the window it began to grow dark. “Where’s the doctor?” she asked.
“He’s no doubt delayed by the storm,” her husband told her. “You don’t have to wait for him.”
She forced a laugh. “As though I could.”
He brushed back her hair. “You’re being so brave.”
“Only because you’re here. I don’t mean to be awful, but I’m so glad it wasn’t you who died in Africa. I don’t know how I would manage to get through this if not for you.”
“You’re not awful. You couldn’t be awful if you tried. The first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were special.”
“I fell in love with you almost immediately.”
“Almost immediately? Why the delay?”
“It was only a few minutes. From the moment we were introduced until we had our first dance. You were so serious. I thought, ‘He won’t be any fun at all.’ And then you smiled at me, and I was lost.”
“So you were won over by something as simple as a smile.”
“You have a most charming smile. I hope your son has your smile.”
“I hope he has your strength of character.”
Another pain ratcheted through her. He was standing now, hovering over her. She was growing so tired, so weary.
“If I die—”
“You’re not going to die,” he insisted.
“But if I do, you must promise me that you won’t abandon our child the way Marsden abandoned his. You won’t blame this child for my death.”
“Julia—”
“Promise me.”
Nodding, she knew she couldn’t yet give in to her need to rest. Not until their son entered the world, not until she gave Albert his heir.
“I think he’s almost here, m’lady,” Mrs. Bedell said encouragingly. “I can see the top of his head. Black hair he has.”
She smiled at her husband. “Black hair.”
Tenderly, he pressed the cool cloth to her temple. “He’s going to look like you.”
Wearily, she shook her head. “No, he’s going to look like you. Only with black hair. Will that please you?”
“Any child you deliver will please me.”
“I think you’re going to want to push the next time the pains start up, m’lady,” Mrs. Bedell said.
“Yes, all right.”
The pounding of footsteps on the stairs caught her attention, and suddenly Dr. Warren was rushing into the room. “Apologies for the delay,” he announced. “Weather’s atrocious. Let’s see what we have here.”
The servants scurried back. She couldn’t have been more grateful that Albert stayed as he was, serving as her sentinel. Dr. Warren began to lift the hem of her nightdress. “You should leave, my lord.”
Albert sighed deeply, irritation shimmering off him. “I’ve already been through this with the servants. I’m not leaving.”
“It’s best if some things between a husband and wife remain a mystery.”
“And it’s best if a man I can flatten with one punch concentrates his attention on my wife and child.”
“Yes, of course. M’lady, you’re going to need to push—”
He didn’t have to tell her. Her body was doing a marvelous job of that. Mrs. Bedell and Albert both lifted her shoulders so she’d have better leverage as the pain made its way through her. She couldn’t stop herself from crying out but at least she didn’t scream at the top of her lungs, even though she dearly wanted to.
“My brave, brave girl,” Albert cooed near her ear, standing, still holding her hand.
“We’re almost there,” Dr. Warren said. “Next one should push the shoulders out and we’ll be done.”
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