by Meara Platt
“Well, are you going to say something or must I?” Ian asked, finally breaking the silence. “Go ahead. We’re alone now. Everyone, including the proprietor, has retired for the evening.”
Gabriel glanced around. In truth, he’d been too lost in thoughts of Daisy to notice.
“Get it out of your system before you sail, Gabriel. I don’t want that seething anger of yours to jeopardize the mission. Once you’re in France, your only goal, your only concern, must be to destroy the French supply lines. Shall I help you along?” He shifted in his chair and leaned forward. “Old Malinor’s a bastard.”
Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “We’ve known that all along. He’s always been a bastard.”
“So’s his son.”
“He’s even worse than the father.” Gabriel gripped his mug of ale so tightly the handle threatened to break. “The conniving whelp, what does he want with Daisy? He doesn’t love her.” He slammed his fist on the table. “He can’t love her.”
“It doesn’t matter. She refused him, married you instead. Hell, I still can’t believe it. You, married. I suppose our sacred pact is shot to pieces.”
“No broken hearts, no grieving widows,” Gabriel said quietly. “That’s the worst part of this assignment, knowing I’ll soon make her a widow.” He didn’t bother to hide the pain in his eyes as he met Ian’s gaze. “I’ll need you and Graelem to look after Daisy for me. I don’t trust those Malinors. Auguste wants something from her, or wants to hurt me... or her... or both of us. Hell. She’ll be vulnerable. He’ll try to use it to his advantage.”
Ian shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about Daisy. The little baggage has such faith in you, such love for you. She’ll cut him to ribbons if he tries anything.”
It was quite something that she loved him, felt so good to have her stand by him even as false rumors of his character spread. He’d felt empty for so long, he’d forgotten that feelings such as pride, happiness, or respect still existed. “She is something special,” he said with a light grin, “even if she did almost destroy our mission.”
Ian shook his head and let out a genuine laugh. “Imagine, the course of the world completely undone by a pair of soft, blue eyes.”
Gabriel felt the ache in his heart. “Ah, yes. Helen of Troy and Daisy Farthingale. Daisy hasn’t quite changed the world yet, but she’s changed me. I returned home wanting to die and the little nuisance somehow gave me reason to live.”
“You might want to mention that to her upon your return,” Ian said, his voice suddenly sounding tight. Perhaps it hadn’t been quite the right thing to say to Ian, a man who’d gone through life without anyone to care whether he lived or died. Not even Ian seemed to care about his own survival.
Gabriel nodded. “Protect her until then.”
“I will. I promise.” Ian smacked his palms against his thighs and rose. “Since I don’t have that special someone to make my life complete, I’ll have to make up in quantity what I lack in quality. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a buxom redhead called... oh, damn, I turned down the offer, didn’t I?” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Guess I’ll retire alone to my quarters.”
Gabriel grinned. “You could find yourself a snoopy Farthingale of your own.”
Ian gave a mock shudder. “No. And don’t think to do me any favors. I’m perfectly content to remain a bachelor for the rest of my days.”
Gabriel stayed behind to watch the fire die in the hearth before walking upstairs and settling into his sparse but clean room. He collapsed onto the bed, too fatigued to do more than kick off his boots. Breathy female moans, masculine growls, and the sound of wooden bed slats creaking filtered in from next door, no doubt the maid Ian had passed up now with another traveler. He tried to shut out the noise, but his last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were of Daisy and how perfectly she would fit in this bed beside him.
CHAPTER 19
A lady must never countenance a rake’s illicit paramours.
“LAUREL, YOU LOOK ASHEN.” Daisy set down her fork and pushed away from the breakfast table. She stared at her sister, then at Graelem. The pair were seated across from her, Graelem shoveling his breakfast into his mouth as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. No doubt it was a ruse to avoid talking to her. More to the point, to avoid answering her questions about Gabriel and his mission.
She had meant to ask more about it, but Laurel’s condition was of greater concern at the moment. Laurel hadn’t touched her food, an alarming circumstance since until this morning, she had been inhaling portions large enough to feed a regiment.
“Sweetheart?” Graelem set down his fork as well and was about to raise his teacup to his lips, but stopped to study his wife. “Aren’t you hungry? Do you feel ill?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, scowling at both of them. “I wish you two would stop fussing over me. Daisy’s the one who ought to be fussed over.”
“No, I’m not.” Quite the opposite, Daisy wished to remain quietly on her own, but not before she had more answers from Graelem. As she was about to toss him more questions, Laurel suddenly bent over and let out a soft gasp.
Daisy forgot about her own woes and quickly reached over to clasp Laurel’s hand. “It’s time, isn’t it?”
Laurel managed a nod and suddenly gasped again. “I think my water just broke!”
Daisy and Graelem were up at once, Graelem sweeping his wife into his arms and shouting orders to his staff while Daisy hastily wrote a note and had a footman deliver it to her parents at the Farthingale townhouse. At the same time she summoned a second footman to fetch the midwife. Once both servants were on their way, she ran upstairs to help make Laurel comfortable.
It felt like an eternity, but could not have been more than half an hour, before her other sisters scrambled out of the Farthingale carriage and hurried up the steps to the front door. Daisy hurried downstairs and was waiting for them in the entry hall as Billings opened the door. She was thankful that Rose, the eldest, had come along with the twins.
“I happened to be dropping off a book for Lily when the footman arrived,” Rose explained, efficiently removing her gloves, bonnet, and pelisse before turning to hug her.
“The midwife hasn’t arrived yet,” Daisy began to prattle at once, “and I don’t know what I’m doing.” Laurel going into labor wasn’t her only problem. Daisy needed a capable hand to tend to Graelem, who was in a state, ranting as he paced up and down the hall outside of the bedchamber. Rose was just the one to handle him. After all, she now ran a successful pottery operation that rivaled the Wedgwood family establishment, so how hard would it be for her to manage an overset husband?
Rose also had experience with childbirth and could answer questions about it that neither she nor the twins could.
“Where’s Graelem now?” Rose asked as they climbed the stairs and reached the landing only to find no one in the hallway. “I thought you said he was pacing outside the door.”
“He was. Oh, dear. He must be inside with Laurel.” Daisy hurriedly led them into the bedchamber that Laurel and Graelem shared. It wasn’t the thing for husbands and wives to share quarters, but Farthingales were not known for their adherence to the rules of Polite Society. Laurel had insisted on sharing her husband’s bed. Rose had demanded the same of her husband, Julian. Neither man had voiced complaint. In truth, each seemed remarkably content with the arrangement.
Daisy wondered whether Gabriel would consent to similar terms when he returned. When he returned. She repeated the words in her mind, for she wasn’t about to let him die. She’d go to France herself to save him if she could.
Laurel moaned, regaining her attention. She was stretched out on the bed, Graelem seated on a stool beside the bed clutching her hand. Graelem glanced up to acknowledge their presence, utter panic and despair etched in his proud features. “Laurel’s having our baby.”
Dillie managed not to roll her eyes at the obvious statement. “I know,” she said gently. “That’s why we came as fast as
we could.”
Daisy tried not to cringe, but she knew Graelem was a disaster in the making. Rose, as capable as she was, would not be able to handle him on her own. The twins would have to help keep him downstairs and out of the way once the midwife arrived. “Lily, did Amos come with you, by any chance?”
Lily adjusted the spectacles on her pert nose and nodded.
“Good. Take him with you to find Uncle George and bring him here.”
Daisy breathed a sigh of relief as Lily hurried off. Now to her next problem, how to get Graelem downstairs. Rose capably took the reins by stepping to his side and placing a hand on his obviously tense shoulder. “Julian was a wretched mess when my time came, but I can tell you that I wanted him out of our bedchamber for my sake. First of all, I wasn’t pretty. Also, I was in a lot of pain and couldn’t let it out because I knew it would break his heart if he saw me suffering. I’m sure Laurel’s feeling exactly as I did.”
Laurel smiled at her husband. “I love you, Graelem. Please go. You can stomp and pace to your heart’s content downstairs, wear a hole in our ridiculously expensive carpets. Please.”
He said nothing for a long moment, then reluctantly nodded and let out a growl. “I love you, my bonny lass.” He placed a tender kiss on her brow. When he rose, Daisy noticed that he was putting delicate weight on the leg he’d broken last year, or rather, that Brutus—that beast of a stallion—had crushed last year.
Daisy pursed her lips in concern, knowing by his limp that he was in silent agony. He’d never admit it, though.
“I could almost hear him ache for Laurel,” Dillie said in a whisper. “Love does that, I suppose. Of course, I’m too young and innocent to know about such things.”
So am I, Daisy thought to herself, for she and Gabriel had not consummated their marriage, an oversight she meant to correct the moment he returned... assuming he wished to remain in the marriage and not seek an annulment.
She shook her head and sighed, refusing to think about that awful possibility.
Dillie interrupted her thoughts. “Tell me what to do, Daisy.”
“I wish I knew. If only Mother were here.” But the Farthingale elders had gone off to Windsor, some grand affair at the Duchess of Lowesbury’s estate. Her father thought it best to continue with their plans even though her mother and Julia were still distressed about the Malinor debacle. Daisy hoped that a garden party in the countryside would calm them all down.
Laurel let out a gasp and sank back onto her pillows. “Sorry, the little imp kicked me hard. Caught me by surprise, that’s all.” Then she gasped again, this time letting out a grunt. “He’s going to be a big oaf, just like his father.”
As Laurel’s gasps and groans grew more frequent, Daisy’s concern increased. Where was that midwife? And where was Uncle George? “Maybe Rose had better take over up here.”
“No,” Laurel said, clasping her hand. “Not yet. Graelem will panic and come running back up here. Leave them downstairs a while longer.”
As silence descended—except for Laurel’s increasingly anguished gasps—Daisy began to fretfully nibble her lip.
Dillie was now kneeling beside Laurel, her own lips quivering as though she were about to cry. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to let her stay up here.
Laurel’s labor continued into the early afternoon and intensified by nightfall along with the storm raging outside. The midwife, Mrs. Peebles, had arrived hours ago and remained by Laurel’s side the entire time. So had Daisy, Rose, and the twins, although they had been consigned to the opposite side of the room and used as serving maids to fetch more water or blankets or other items needed for the birthing.
To Daisy, each passing hour seemed an eternity.
Graelem remained downstairs with their uncle George, still mad with worry although their uncle’s quiet assurance had gone a long way toward stemming his panic. In truth, his presence calmed all of them.
Daisy and her sisters had taken turns looking in on the men and often attempted to occupy Graelem’s attention, but as the hours progressed, the task grew harder. He refused to read, wouldn’t play cards, and would not engage Lily in a game of chess. “You’ll win,” he grumbled, “as you always do.”
If it hadn’t been for Uncle George’s solid presence, there was no telling what Graelem would have done by now. Daisy herself was tense and scared, though she would not allow herself to show it.
“Some babes are reluctant to leave the comfort of the mother’s womb,” the midwife said in response to Daisy’s questioning glance when she returned upstairs. “These things take time.”
“How much time?” Dillie asked, for Laurel had been struggling for almost twelve hours.
She shrugged her beefy shoulders. “I don’t know, lass. The babe will set his or her own schedule.”
“I’ve heard that the first is often the most difficult.” Daisy clasped her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. She felt useless and incompetent, and would have been terrified were it not for Mrs. Peebles and Uncle George remaining so close at hand.
“Aye, it’s true. Don’t worry, lovies. Your sister is strong.”
“Headstrong,” Dillie muttered as though to convince herself of Laurel’s ability to pull through. Everyone was worried, but afraid to admit it.
Mrs. Peebles eyed them with a surprisingly tender gaze, for she was otherwise terse and efficient. “Aye, she’s a fighter and that’s good.”
Rose moved to the hearth to stoke the flames, anything to distract herself. “Mother managed to produce five of us.”
Lily nodded. “Five girls and we were small. What if Laurel is carrying a son? He’s bound to be as big as Graelem, and we know what happened to...”
Daisy turned to her sister in alarm. “Don’t say it, Lily.” They all knew Graelem’s mother had died in childbirth.
“I’ll have none of that talk now,” the midwife grumbled.
Laurel opened her eyes and glanced about her bedchamber. “Where’s Daisy?”
“I’m right here. So are Rose and the twins.” Daisy drew the stool back to her bedside and settled on it.
“We won’t leave your side,” Rose assured.
Laurel eased back against her pillows, but her relief was only momentary. “Where’s Graelem?”
“Downstairs where he ought to be,” the midwife said. “I don’t allow men in the birthing room. They always faint and then where am I? Forced to take care of mother, babe, and big oaf of a father. No, keep the men downstairs. That’s what I say.”
“Uncle George is with him,” Daisy assured her, forced to whisper in order to keep the quiver out of her voice. “He’s in good hands.”
Laurel nodded, but she seemed disappointed that her husband couldn’t be beside her. “I suppose that settles it. Does he know that I’m doing well?” Which she wasn’t. “He’s so worried about me.”
Daisy took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “We’re taking turns reporting to him.”
As the night progressed, Daisy continued to hold her sister’s hand and did the best she could to make her comfortable, but between the midwife’s orders to fetch this or that, and Graelem constantly poking his head into the stuffy bedchamber and bemoaning his helplessness, she knew something or someone was about to explode.
“I believe it’s our turn to keep Graelem occupied,” Rose said as she and Lily started for the door. “Just shout down if you need us.”
Daisy cast them a heartfelt smile.
“Good thing Lady Laurel has you girls,” Mrs. Peebles said. “Will you be staying on after the birth, Miss Daisy? She’s going to need your help.”
Daisy had never seen Laurel so pale. Her eyes were closed and brow beaded with sweat.
Though she tried to hide it, the midwife looked worried as well.
Laurel’s eyes fluttered open. She took Daisy’s hand once more, and Daisy had to stifle a gasp at how cold it felt. “How is Graelem? I teased him earlier, but I’m scared. The babe won’t budge. Graelem knows t
hat I’m in trouble. He must be frantic.”
“He’ll be fine as soon as he hears his child squawking,” Mrs. Peebles said, handing Laurel a foul-smelling concoction. “Drink this, lovey. It’ll get the contractions started again and that’s what we want to see.”
After a few minutes, they did start up with a vengeance.
Graelem burst into the bedchamber upon hearing Laurel’s scream. “What the hell are you doing to my wife?”
Mrs. Peebles held her ground, standing up to face him and matching his stance, fists curled at her sides. “Get out, m’lord.”
Fear and heartache were etched on Graelem’s face. “No. This is my bedchamber. That’s my wife who’s suffering. Who’s...” Dying.
“And I’m the one who’ll get her through it. Are ye goin’ to leave or do I have to chase you out?”
Rose and Lily hurried in behind Graelem, apologizing for letting him slip by, though Daisy didn’t think anyone could stop him, not even a regiment of the King’s finest soldiers. None of them were handling the chore of distracting the nervous husband very well. The more insistent the midwife became, the more determined Graelem was to stay.
Daisy felt that he belonged by Laurel’s side, but the midwife was experienced in such matters and she wasn’t about to contradict her orders.
Graelem stood as firm as a wall of bedrock until Laurel opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Sweetheart,” he said raggedly, coming to her side to kiss her brow.
“I love you,” she whispered. “My sisters have been by my side all day and haven’t eaten since breakfast. They could do with some food and a pot of tea.”
Dillie put a hand on his shoulder. “Graelem, help me put a tray together. I’m not familiar with your kitchen.”
A muscle in his jaw tightened. “We have servants for that.”
“Yes,” Lily agreed, “but it’s late and most of them have retired for the evening. It’ll be faster if we do it ourselves.”
“Nonsense—”
“Please, Graelem,” Laurel said. “I need you to take care of my sisters.”