“What’s what?” Cat looked down and laughed. “Oh, that’s just the baby—likely a foot or an elbow. Here.”
She took Jane’s hand and placed it over the protuberance. “Feel it?”
“Y-yes.” The bulge got larger, moved, and then disappeared. It was the oddest sensation—though it must have been even odder for Cat, experiencing it from the inside.
Jane put her hand safely in her own lap.
“Oh, Jane.” Cat leaned forward—or as forward as she could lean with her enormous belly. “I do hope you’ll find a husband someday and have a family.”
“Merrow.” Poppy butted against Jane’s thigh in apparent agreement.
“We had such hopes for you and Alex.”
Longing twisted through her. A family with Alex . . .
And no control.
Familiar panic gripped her by the throat. It was bad enough to consider her life with a husband, but with a baby as well . . .
Look at Cat. If she’d managed to preserve a thread of independence after marrying the duke, it was gone now.
Jane had observed enough mothers to know that even once their babies were born, they weren’t free. Their minds and even their souls were tied forever to their offspring. She wasn’t ready for that. She doubted she’d ever be ready.
“I’m the Spinster House spinster, remember?” She forced a smile. “I worked and plotted too long to give it up now that I finally have it.”
“But—” Cat sucked in her breath and put her hand on her belly again.
Lud! “Was that another pain?”
Cat nodded. “A little bit stronger than the last one.”
Jane knew nothing about childbirth, but this did not sound good to her. “Should I get your mother?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Jane eyed Cat’s belly nervously and then looked at Poppy.
Poppy yawned.
“Jane, Marcus and I—and Nate and Anne as well—saw how it was with Alex at the village fair.”
“How what was with Lord Evans?”
Cat smiled. “He was quite taken with you.”
Jane felt a sudden spurt of pleasure—which she repressed immediately. “Gammon! Lord Evans, if you’ll remember, talked about going up to London to look for a wife.” She certainly remembered. “And he explicitly denied having a matrimonial interest in me. I believe his exact description of the notion was ‘ridiculous.’”
Cat frowned. “I don’t think he meant that.”
“I find it is best to take people at their word.”
Cat sighed and her shoulders drooped a bit. “I was certain you two would make a match of it, but I suppose it’s not to be.”
“Merrow.” Poppy put what looked like a comforting paw on Cat’s belly, and Cat stroked the animal.
“Why do you care?” Jane asked. “It’s not as if my marriage affects you.” She had been very eager for Cat and Anne to wed so she could move into the Spinster House, but there was nothing Cat would gain from Jane’s wedding Lord Evans or anyone, for that matter.
Both the cat and Cat looked at her.
“Oh, perhaps I’m just being selfish,” Cat said. “If you married Alex, I’d see more of you, since he and Marcus and Nate are so close.”
That would be lovely, but it was no reason to chain herself to the earl. “I hope you—and Anne when she’s in Loves Bridge—will visit me here.” She tried to inject a teasing note into her words. “You aren’t planning to give me the cut direct, are you?” Though she could see it would not be the same. Once Lord Evans acquired a wife, that woman would become part of their social circle—Cat and Anne’s social circle, that is. Jane would be very much in the way. On the outside. Alone.
Which was fine. She was the Spinster House spinster. She didn’t need anyone else.
“Of course we aren’t going to c-cut you.” Cat flinched again.
Jane looked at Poppy.
Poppy groomed her tail.
Am I mad ? Why do I think Poppy knows what’s going on with Cat and her baby?
Poppy paused her ablutions long enough to send Jane a look.
All right, then.
“Is it the thought of the marriage bed that troubles you, Jane?” Cat asked.
“W-what?!” Jane’s attention snapped back to Cat—and then she jumped to her feet. She did not want to talk about beds or marriage. “You know, I’ve just remembered an appointment. I hate to rush you, but I’m afraid I must go—”
“Would it help if I told you what happens between a man and his wife?”
“No.” She might not be clear on the specifics, but she felt quite certain Alex could explain it all to her in detail—exquisite detail.
But she was not going to get married, so she didn’t need the information.
“I know your mother died when you were fourteen,” Cat was saying. “I imagine she didn’t—oh.” She sucked in her breath and rubbed her belly again.
“Are you certain I shouldn’t get your mother?”
“Yes, yes. I’m f-fine.”
Jane glanced at Poppy—and frowned. The cat was now standing and looking very alert. Is she staring at Cat’s belly?
“But I suppose I should go. You did say you had an appointment.”
“Er . . .” They both knew there was no appointment.
“And Mama must be wondering where I am.” Cat smiled. “Though I think Mary has probably enjoyed having her all to herself for a while.” She extended a hand. “Can you haul this poor whale upright, Jane?”
“Of course, though perhaps you’d best give me both your hands.”
Jane pulled Cat to stand, and—
“Oh!” Cat turned bright red. A puddle had appeared at her feet.
“Er, should I get you the chamber pot?”
Cat shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the problem.”
“Merrow!” Poppy ran toward the stairs, and then stopped at the bottom to look back at them.
“I-I think”—Cat sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed Jane’s hands hard.
“Is it the baby?” Oh, dear Lord!
Cat nodded. “I—” She swallowed. “I-I think so.”
Jane knew nothing about babies. What should she—
“Merrow!”
She looked at Poppy. Poppy looked at her, climbed two steps, stopped—and growled.
Her message was unmistakable.
Perhaps Poppy had had kittens. In any event, it would be impossible to know less about giving birth than Jane did. She would take the cat’s advice.
If she didn’t, Poppy would likely claw her ankles.
“Do you think you can climb the stairs? I’ll get you settled in bed and then run fetch your mother.” The vicarage was just across the street, and Mrs. Hutting had given birth to ten children. She would know what to do.
Cat nodded. “And get Marcus. Please.”
“Yes. Of course.” She guided Cat over to the stairs.
Cat paused with her foot on the first step and dug her fingers into Jane’s arm so hard she’d probably leave bruises. “But don’t tell him the baby’s coming. I don’t—” Cat caught her breath and her face twisted with pain.
Jane waited, helplessly patting Cat’s arm.
“Sorry,” Cat finally said. “The pain comes in waves, and I can’t talk during the worst of it. Don’t tell Marcus about the baby. I don’t want him to . . .” Cat tried again. “I don’t want him to do anything foolish and hurt himself.”
Or kill himself.
Jane knew that’s what they both were thinking.
“Don’t worry. You concentrate on yourself and the baby. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Somehow.
She got Cat up the stairs. Once they reached the upper floor, Poppy ran into Jane’s bedroom, so that’s where she started to guide Cat.
“The other room will be f-fine,” Cat said, leaning against the wall and panting until another wave of pain passed.
“Merrow!” Poppy poked her head out of Jane’s room as
if to hurry them along.
“I’m not about to argue with Poppy. You know that never ends well.”
Cat laughed. “True.”
It didn’t take long to help Cat out of her dress and stays and settle her on the bed.
“Will you be all right alone? I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Poppy jumped on the bed and curled up next to Cat.
Cat laughed and stroked Poppy’s head. “Poppy will watch me.”
“All right.” Jane didn’t like leaving Cat alone, but she didn’t have much choice. She looked at Poppy.
Poppy twitched her tail and bared her teeth briefly as if to say stop dithering and get on with it.
Jane nodded and took off, using the banister to help her swing round the turn in the stairs. She pelted across the drawing room, flung open the door—
And ran smack into a hard male chest.
Chapter Twelve
“Jane!” Alex grasped Jane’s arms to steady her after she collided with him.
Lord, it was so good to see her, to feel her body against his. He’d tried to scrub the memory of their time together at Chanton Manor, especially their two brief encounters in the garden, from his thoughts, but now every detail came roaring back—
Even the one where Jane shoved on his chest to get free of him, which was exactly what she was doing now.
He let her go. What a bloody fool he’d been to think she’d welcome him. He’d come to see Marcus. He should have gone directly to the castle. He—
“Lord Evans, thank God you’re here!”
His brows shot up and he grinned. Ah. This was better . . .
No, Jane’s face was flushed, her bosom heaving. There was panic in her eyes.
His heart leapt into his throat. “Zeus, is there an intruder in the house? Where is he? Tell me. I’ll take care of him.” He stepped past her, putting his body between her and any danger. “Show yourself immediately, sirrah!”
Miss Wilkinson tugged on his arm. “No, there’s no intruder.” She frowned, apparently just now realizing he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. “Why are you here?”
“I’m checking on Marcus. Nate wrote asking me to come since he couldn’t leave his wife to come himself.”
Fortunately, she let that go. It was true, but it didn’t answer the question of why he was here in the Spinster House and not at Loves Castle where he’d be a lot more likely to find Marcus.
She’d probably berate me if I told her I’ve missed her.
She kept showing up in his dreams—and not just the salacious ones. And she drifted into his waking thoughts as well. He’d be working on household accounts and would picture her putting on her glasses to examine the ledger. Or he’d be riding over his estate and catch himself wondering what she would say about a certain view.
“Well, it’s good that you’re here now. You must go get Mrs. Hutting immediately.”
“Why?” For the life of him, he could not think of a single reason anyone would need to make an emergency dash to the vicar’s wife.
“Because Cat is going to have her baby, that’s why!”
“How do you know?” Surely the duchess was at Loves Castle. She was very pregnant. She wouldn’t be wandering the countryside . . . would she?
“Because she’s upstairs. How else would I know? Now hurry.”
“Upstairs?” He glanced nervously at the staircase. “Who’s with her?”
“Poppy.”
“Poppy?! You left a cat to keep watch over a woman in labor?”
“What else was I supposed to do? Send Poppy to get Mrs. Hutting?”
“No, of course not.” He stepped back outside. “You go keep the duchess company. I’ll fetch Mrs. Hutting straightaway.”
Jane put her hand on his arm. “And after you send Cat’s mother over, could you find the duke?” She frowned and said, a bit anxiously, “But don’t tell him why he’s needed. Cat doesn’t want to, er, cause him to take any risks.”
“Right.” The mind was a powerful thing. If Marcus knew the duchess was in labor, he might feel the curse breathing down his neck and do something foolish.
Sometimes the difference between life and death was one single misstep.
“Where is he? I assume he brought Cat into the village?”
Miss Wilkinson shook her head. “No. Cat came in with her sister Mary while the duke was off at Lord Davenport’s. He probably has no notion Cat is here.”
Likely not. Alex couldn’t see Marcus being happy about his duchess traveling anywhere without him so close to her time.
“Very well. Leave the duke to me. You go up and sit with the duchess.”
Miss Wilkinson suddenly turned a bit green. “Do get Mrs. Hutting to hurry. I don’t know the first thing about babies.”
He put a bracing hand on her shoulder. “That’s all right. You don’t need to know anything. Just keep Cat company for the few minutes it will take for her mother to get there.”
They heard a loud moan coming from upstairs.
“Go on.”
Miss Wilkinson nodded. “Tell Mrs. Hutting to come straight up,” she said, and then headed for the stairs, quickening her pace when they heard another moan.
Brave woman. He felt a surge of pride—
No, pride implied a connection they didn’t yet have—and might never have. Admiration. That’s what he felt.
He ran across the road to the vicarage. The duchess’s youngest brothers, four-year-old twins, opened the door when Alex knocked. Identical faces grinned up at him—and then looked behind him. When they saw he was alone, their faces fell.
“Where’s dook?” one boy asked.
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I’m going to find him after I speak to your mother. May I come in?”
“Course.” The door swung open. “She’s in Papa’s study with Papa and Mary.”
“What’s going on, boys?” The vicar poked his head out of a nearby room. “Oh, Lord Evans.” He smiled. “Do come in.” He stood aside for Alex to enter. “You know my wife and daughter Mary, of course.”
Alex executed a short bow. “Ladies.” Mary looked very pregnant herself—she was due at roughly the same time as the duchess. He did hope she would wait her turn.
“What brings you to the vicarage, Lord Evans?” Mrs. Hutting asked. “Can I offer you some tea?” She gestured to the pot at her elbow.
“Or would you rather have brandy?” the vicar asked.
“Neither, I’m afraid.” He turned to Mrs. Hutting. “I’ve been sent by Miss Wilkinson to ask you to come without delay to the Spinster House, madam.”
Mrs. Hutting rose quickly to her feet. “Cat stopped there to visit.” Her voice was tense. “Is she all right?”
“She seems to be in labor, madam.”
Mary gasped, but Mrs. Hutting nodded in what seemed a competent fashion.
“Very well. I’ll come at once.”
“Is Cat having her baby, Mama?” one of the twins asked.
“Yes, she is, Tom.”
“She’s early.” Mary sounded nervous. “She’s not too early, is she, Mama?”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Mrs. Hutting was now all business. She turned to her husband. “We’ll need Mrs. Danford”—she looked at Alex—“that’s the midwife.” She frowned. “I believe she’s visiting her sister over in Little Darrow.”
Blast! “Is that far?” Alex tried to sound calm, but he could just imagine how Jane would feel if she heard this news.
“It’s just the next village over. Too far to walk, but not far on horseback,” the vicar said. “I’ll send Henry on my horse to fetch her. He and Walter should be in their room, working on their translations.” He left, taking the twins with him.
Mrs. Hutting frowned. “I do hope Mrs. Danford is still at her sister’s and not out attending someone else. Well, I suppose in a pinch there’s the London doctor Lord Davenport engaged for Lady Davenport—unless she’s gone into labor, too.” She smiled. “Is someone fetching the duke, Lord Ev
ans?”
“No, madam. Finding the duke is next on the list of duties Miss Wilkinson assigned me.”
Mrs. Hutting laughed. “She’s probably frantic.”
“I do believe she would welcome your prompt appearance.” An understatement. Jane was very likely on her knees, if only figuratively, pleading with the Almighty to hurry Mrs. Hutting along.
“What can I do, Mama?” Mary asked.
“Nothing, dear. Just stay here and rest. I don’t want poor Mrs. Danford to have to deliver two babies today.”
“N-no.” Mary looked a bit nervous at that thought.
“Now, don’t worry,” Mrs. Hutting said. “You should be fine, but if you do have need of me, send Walter or Pru or Sybbie—they are probably in the schoolroom. Or even the twins. I’ll only be cross the street.”
“What about Papa?”
“I think—oh, there you are.”
The vicar came into the study as a gangling youth of sixteen or seventeen darted out the front door behind him.
“Yes, here I am and ready for my next instructions.”
“I assume you’ll help Lord Evans find the duke.” Mrs. Hutting finally started for the door. She paused—and Alex had to struggle with himself to keep from pushing her on her way. “Though perhaps you shouldn’t tell him Cat is in labor.” She frowned. “The curse, you know.”
Her husband nodded. “Yes. Right. Don’t want to cause His Grace any anxiety about that, though I suppose it’s always at the back of the poor boy’s mind.”
“And the back of Cat’s,” Mary said.
The Huttings stood there, apparently considering the matter of the curse.
Alex cleared his throat. “Mrs. Hutting? Miss Wilkinson and the duchess eagerly await your presence.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. I’m off.”
This time he didn’t believe the woman was actually on her way until she stepped out the door, and even then he considered following her to be certain she didn’t get detained in conversation with one of the villagers.
“Now, Lord Evans,” the vicar said, “what’s your plan with regard to the duke?”
Alex hadn’t formulated one yet. “Miss Wilkinson told me the duke had gone to visit Lord Davenport. Is that correct, Mrs. Dunly?”
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