Setting her jaw, grunting a little louder, squeezing her husband’s hand, she pushed as hard as she could.
“That’s it,” Dr. Warren encouraged. “She’s here.”
Dropping back down, breathing heavily, Julia asked, “She?”
“You have a daughter.”
A daughter? But she was supposed to be a boy, the heir to Greyling. And yet strangely, she experienced no disappointment, no regret. She looked at Albert, certain she’d never seen more love reflected in his eyes. “He’s a girl.”
“So he is.”
“Can you see her?”
“Right now all I see is you. You’re so beautiful, Jules.”
She didn’t see how she could be. “Why isn’t she crying?” she demanded of Albert, as though he were the one in charge of life and death. “She should be crying.”
Then the wailing started, and Julia had never heard a more beautiful sound in her entire life. She began laughing and weeping with joy and gratitude and love. This tiny creature was making a powerful statement. “I want to see her.”
“Here she is,” Mrs. Bedell said, placing the child, wrapped in swaddling, in Albert’s arms.
He leaned over so she could see her daughter, her child screaming her lungs out. She met Albert’s gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you your heir.”
A veil of tears glistened in his eyes as he touched the babe’s fist. Their daughter unfurled her hand and took hold of his finger. “I promise you, Julia, your husband could not be more pleased. She looks just like you. What father would find fault with that?”
A girl. His brother’s wife had given birth to a daughter. Not a son. Not an heir. Which meant the title came to Edward. The role he’d been playing for weeks now was no role at all, but was the unvarnished truth, his reality. He was and would remain the Earl of Greyling.
Grabbing a bottle of scotch, not bothering with a coat, hat, or muffler, he strode out through the library terrace door into the snow, wind, and sleet. Into the blistering cold. But he barely noticed the frigid ice pattering his skin or the flakes gathering on his lashes.
He was the earl. It was not what he wanted, not what he’d ever wanted.
Yet how could he resent his newfound position when that delicate bundle of new life had wrapped her tiny hand around his finger? With her black hair, her chubby cheeks, and her face scrunched up as she squalled? How could a creature so tiny, so innocent, capture his heart with such ease?
Trudging through the blanket of snow, he took a swig of the scotch, welcoming its warmth spreading through his chest, a warmth that paled when compared with what he’d felt as he held his brother’s daughter in his arms. Julia’s daughter.
He hadn’t bothered with a lamp, but nearly three-quarters of a moon was brightening the sky. In spite of it being near midnight, the snow reflected the light and illuminated his path. It could almost be day for how well he was able to see. The howling wind pushed against him, but he pushed back. Nothing was going to prevent him from reaching his destination. Julia and the babe were both sleeping. They needed their rest, while he needed to be elsewhere.
The mausoleum came into view, an ominous scepter in the night. Shoving open the heavy door, he pushed his way inside, welcoming the muted screeching of the wind when the heavy wood banged back into place. A lantern, burning eternally, lit his way as he crossed over to the newest burial vault, placed his back against the cold marble tomb and slid down to the floor.
“She’s beautiful, Albert, your daughter and your wife.” He held the bottle aloft. “Well done on both counts, brother.” He took a long swig, banged his head against the marble. “God, Albert, I wish you’d been here to see her. A bit nervous to start, but so courageous, so strong when it mattered. I can understand why you loved her as you did.”
He indulged in another long swallow of amber. “The two of you created a marvel. We’re naming her Alberta, after you.” He squeezed his eyes shut. We sounded as though they were together, as though Julia belonged with him—when she never would, never could. English law would see to that. “Your daughter has the blackest hair, the bluest eyes, the fattest cheeks. She resembles her mother but I can see some of you in her.”
Which meant he could see some of himself as well. Why did that cause an ache in his chest, make him wish he were the one who had planted the seed? He would be as a father to her, even though that privilege rightfully belonged to his brother. “You’d be busting the buttons on your waistcoat if you were here. I’ve no doubt. Raising a toast as well, to their health and happiness.”
While he would be doing what he was doing now. Striving to drink himself into oblivion so he could forget they weren’t his. That all the emotions churning in his chest—the pride, the affection, the joy—should be tempered by the fact that he was a brother by marriage and an uncle. Not the husband, not the father.
But damn it all to hell, he’d felt like both as Julia had squeezed his hand when the pain became too much, as the housekeeper laid the babe in his arms and he had presented her to Julia, placed her on her mother’s bosom. Actions he’d never thought to experience.
They had touched him so deeply, so profoundly.
He had kept his promise, honored his vow, ensured that Julia delivered her baby. No more reason for secrets existed.
But a thousand reasons existed for getting drunk.
“Cheers, brother!”
And he gulped down the contents of the bottle until there was no more, until he could forget why he was here, until he managed to convince himself that he shouldn’t tell Julia the truth until she’d recovered fully from the ordeal of childbirth.
He awoke cold, aching, and stiff, his head heavy and pounding. At least he’d managed to make it back to the library before collapsing; otherwise he might have been joining his brother, although Albert was in heaven, while he would no doubt be heading in the opposite direction. He wished he’d at least made it to the sofa instead of settling for the floor. Shoving himself to his feet, he cursed soundly as his skull protested.
It was difficult to believe that it had once been his morning ritual to begin his day feeling utterly and completely awful, with his stomach roiling and his surroundings spinning. What an idiot he’d been, although at the time it made perfect sense, as he’d seen no alternative.
It hadn’t been the answer then, it wasn’t the answer now, although now it wasn’t only he who suffered. He had to remember that.
He hadn’t meant to completely abandon Julia, although he suspected she’d sleep for a week following her ordeal. Her daughter less likely to sleep as long. Not that he knew anything about a baby’s sleeping habits. He’d managed to avoid them until now.
But as of yesterday he was an uncle, and he had to give serious thought to being a good one.
He was also an earl. Officially, unequivocally.
All the work he’d done to oversee his brother’s estates—suddenly, he’d been doing it for himself. All the responsibilities regarding the title were now his burden to carry, including providing an heir. Hell and damnation. Getting married had never been in his plans. Now he would have no choice.
But that was for considering another day, perhaps in another decade. Presently, he still needed to take care of Julia, ensure she recovered. It wasn’t uncommon for women to fall ill shortly after they’d given birth, so his decision last night to delay telling her the truth was for her health. And he had a child to look after.
First things first. A bath and breakfast.
After he was finished with both he felt more like himself and better able to face the day, to face Julia. When he walked into her bedchamber, she was sitting up in bed, Alberta nestled in her arms. They were perfection, both mother and daughter. Torrie got up from a chair beside the bed, gave him a quick curtsy, and discreetly left.
“You look awful,” Julia said, her brow furrowed. “Are you a
ll right?”
Perhaps he wasn’t quite as much himself as he’d thought. Guilt gnawed at him for making her worry. “I took a bottle of scotch to the mausoleum to celebrate Alberta’s birth with my brother. We’d always planned to have a drink on that most auspicious occasion. I got carried away.” Leaning over, he brushed a quick kiss across her lips. “Sorry if I worried you.”
“I’m sorry he wasn’t here to celebrate. I should have realized how hard it would be for you—”
“Don’t concern yourself. You had enough to worry over.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “How is your daughter this morning?”
“She’s yours as well.”
Damn. The fog from his mind wasn’t entirely lifted. “Our daughter. Difficult to believe we actually have her.”
“Would you like to hold her?”
The correct answer was no, because if he fell any more in love with her, if Julia wasn’t willing to share her when she learned the truth, his heart might break. But at that moment he was pretending to be her father, not her uncle, and what father would refuse? To be honest, what uncle worth his salt would refuse? Besides, the truth was that he was desperate to feel her in his arms again. “I’d like that. Yes.”
Alberta did little more than mewl as Julia transferred her over to him. Standing, he began swaying back and forth. “Hello, Lady Allie.”
“Allie?”
“Alberta seems a bit grown-up for one so small, don’t you think?”
She smiled softly. “I suppose you’re right. Are you certain you’re not disappointed that she isn’t a boy?”
“I promise you with all my heart that I’m not disappointed in the least.”
“I was just so sure, but then I guess one never truly knows. Next time.”
He swallowed. “Next time, yes.” If she had a next time, it would be because she’d remarried. She would give another lord his heir. He didn’t want to think about Allie going to live on another estate, growing up in the shadow of a different residence. She belonged here. It was the home of her father.
Both he and Albert should have grown up here, but fate had denied them that privilege, those memories. He didn’t want a childhood on these grounds stolen from Allie. Albert wouldn’t want it either.
“What’s wrong?” Julia asked. “Your face is a storm cloud.”
He shook his head, waved off the troubling thoughts. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about how important it is that she have the opportunity to grow up here, and how it was denied to me and my brother.”
“All of this must be bittersweet. Your childhood memories being stirred, Edward not being here.”
“It’s far more sweet than it is bitter, I promise you. And I haven’t asked how you’re feeling.”
“A little sore, but happy. Dr. Warren ordered me to stay abed for two months, but I’ve already gotten out of bed to see to my toilette and I felt fine.”
“You should listen to your doctor.”
“I don’t think it’s good to stay abed. I won’t be reckless but I don’t see the harm in sitting in a chair. And I want to feel strong enough to go downstairs by Christmas. This will be our first as a family. I want everything to be perfect.”
A perfect Christmas. That would be his gift to her. Then he would tell her the truth.
Chapter 12
Sitting in the parlor, watching as the servants finished trimming the tree, Julia could hardly believe it was Christmas Eve, that three weeks had passed so quickly. Allie slept in a nearby cradle that was decorated with holly and red velvet ribbon. She was such a delight, but still so small. Dr. Warren had decided she needed to be fed formula rather than mother’s milk.
“I feel as though I’m failing her,” she’d told Albert.
“You only fail her if you don’t heed your doctor’s advice,” he’d assured her.
She hadn’t expected her husband to be so attentive or to spend so much time holding his daughter. With winter upon them, there was little need for him to go out and check on his tenants, but she still hadn’t anticipated that much of his day would be spent entertaining her. They played cards. Sometimes he read to her.
He would get a bit miffed when she insisted upon walking through the residence. “I would think your physician has good reason for encouraging you to stay abed.”
“I can think of none when I feel so much better after I walk.”
He always accompanied her, provided an arm, and didn’t harp on his displeasure with her. Their strolls were her favorite moments of the day. Sometimes they were silent. Sometimes they shared memories of their youth and spoke of their plans for Allie, all the things they would show her, teach her. Following in her father’s footsteps, she would travel the world. Their daughter most certainly was going to have a singular upbringing.
Julia had always thought she loved Albert as much as it was possible to love a man. Strange to discover that with each passing day she loved him more deeply.
He stood by the fireplace with its evergreen boughs, his elbow resting on the mantel as he slowly sipped his scotch, his gaze on the activity near the tree. He was so incredibly attractive and masculine, every inch of him calling to her wantonness. From time to time he would glance over at her, smile, then his gaze would dip to the cradle, his eyes would soften. They were a family. They would have so many moments like this. A lifetime’s worth.
“Is it to your liking, m’lady?” Mrs. Bedell asked as the servants who had been assisting her stood at attention, hopeful expressions mirrored on each of their faces.
“Yes, thank you, it’s beautiful.”
The housekeeper ushered out the servants. Albert walked over and took the chair beside hers. “I’m surprised you weren’t in the thick of things, assisting them.”
“I did put up a couple of baubles while you went to retrieve your scotch.”
He laughed. “You are a stubborn wench.”
“I’m not going to spend any more time abed.”
He turned in the chair so he could see her more easily. “Julia—”
“I’m fine, Albert.”
Reaching out, he took her hand, his expression deadly serious. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I feel best when I’m up and about. Now that I’m no longer nursing, my body doesn’t need all the rest.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any real harm in it. I did once see a woman in Africa give birth and then immediately return to skinning hides.”
“You didn’t think that was worth mentioning before?”
“I’m not going to give you ammunition for your arguments.”
She slapped playfully at his arm, glad to see his eyes twinkling with humor. “I should be cross with you.”
“Not on Christmas Eve.”
“No, not on Christmas Eve.”
He leaned toward her. “So what present did you get me?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m not telling, but it should be arriving any time now.”
His brow furrowed. “You’re having something delivered here today for me?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
He pursed his lips together. “What is it?”
“Patience, my husband. I’ve been planning this for a while. I’m not going to ruin the surprise now by telling you what it is.” Taking his hand, she settled back against the chair. He finished off his scotch, set the glass aside, stared at the tree.
“It’s so quiet,” he said solemnly.
“I know you miss him.”
“More than I can say. It would be a difficult Christmas indeed, if not for Allie.”
“Then I’m glad she came early, even if she is a bit small.”
“She’s growing. She’s getting heavier in my arms. Next Christmas she’ll be climbing all over that tree.”
Julia heard the front door ope
ning, voices in the entryway, and fought not to change her expression, not to give anything away.
“Who’s that?” Albert asked, coming to his feet. “Carolers, do you think?”
Julia rose as well. “Perhaps. Should probably go see.”
He offered his arm. They’d taken only two steps when the Duke and Duchess of Ashebury and Viscount Locksley crossed the threshold.
“Happy Christmas!” they all said in unison.
“What the devil are you doing here?” Albert asked.
“We were invited,” Ashebury announced.
Clearly confused, Albert looked at her. She smiled. “Your gift arrives at last. Merry Christmas, my love.”
“You could not have given me anything better.”
Then he hauled her up against him and took her mouth.
He hadn’t kissed her since just before she gave birth, and he knew he could not have chosen a worse moment to do so—with an audience. But he’d been dreading the holidays, known they were another moment that would hammer home the absence of his brother. And he was truly touched by her gift of his friends.
He welcomed the excuse to show his appreciation by plastering his lips to hers. He suffered through the agony of holding her every night, chastely, his arm around her diminishing waist. Each day, the evidence that she’d given birth dwindled. And he found himself wanting her all the more, fighting to keep his desires in check.
The fight was raging now—again with an audience.
Breaking from the kiss, he strode toward their visitors. “This is a marvelous surprise.” He gave the duchess a hug, a kiss on the cheek. Shook Ashe’s hand, clapped his back, did the same with Locke before asking him, “What about your father?”
“He’s never liked Christmas,” Locke said. “You know that. I doubt he’ll even notice I’m not there.”
“Well, I’m glad to have you here. Allow me to introduce you to Lady Alberta.”
Minerva hadn’t bothered to wait for him to lead them over. She was already at Julia’s side, cooing over the child whom Julia now cradled lovingly in her arms. He’d never before realized how much a mother could love a child, had never considered what he and the others had missed out on by not having their mothers about as they grew into men.
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