A Touch of Passion_A Rouge Regency Romance

by Bronwen Evans

  His gaze hardened. “I won’t run again. I give you my word.”

  Portia nodded, her fists clenched at her sides. “I’ve loved you for years. I’ve waited for you to see me since I was sixteen. You can wait until at least tomorrow to have this conversation. The ladies and I have a night of feminine amusements planned.”

  His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “As you wish. How about a ride over the estate in the morning?”

  “That would be acceptable,” she answered, her body starting to shake. She saw his shoulders relax, and he let out the breath he had been holding.

  “Thank you.” With that he bowed and strode from the room.

  The room remained silent until Beatrice whispered, “He looks so earnest. I almost feel sorry for him.”

  Portia did too; that was her weakness. He was her weakness. She felt exhausted, swamped with conflicting emotions. Her heart wanted so badly to trust him, while her head was wary.

  “Let’s forget about men tonight. Let’s talk about babies,” Portia said, smiling at her two friends. “Is the nursery ready?”

  “Christian made sure it was ready the minute he learned I carried his child,” Serena scoffed. “It’s Lily I’m worried about. She’s had Christian all to herself and is naturally clingy given that he’s all she has left after her parents’ deaths.”

  “That’s not true—she has you too. She adores you. And she’ll adore her brother or sister,” Beatrice said.

  “Christian takes her riding most days and always has breakfast with her. Although if the men roll back home tonight from the tavern I’m not sure what condition he’ll be in tomor—” Serena halted midsentence, panic etched across her face. Her face drained of color and she clutched the edge of the table. Portia heard the sound of liquid hitting the floor.

  Beatrice was on her feet and at Serena’s side in an instant. “The baby.”

  “But I’m not due for another three weeks at least.”

  Portia rose and looked in panic at Beatrice. “What do we do?”

  “Rouse Cook, and ring for a groom to ride to the tavern and alert Christian.”

  “Beatrice, I don’t think food is required—”

  Beatrice raised a hand. “She’s a midwife as well, Portia. A very good one. Now go,” Beatrice said. “I’ll get Serena to her room.”

  Portia knew how much women endured to reach the joy of motherhood, but standing by so helplessly while her friend screamed in pain was terrifying, because there was nothing she could do but hold her hand and murmur words of encouragement. Was this what Grayson had felt when she was ill?

  She would stay strong for Serena. Portia had also made sure Lily was told what was happening. Lily’s room was not far from Serena’s and she would hear Serena’s cries. Portia explained to the young girl that it was just part of childbirth and that her stepmother would be fine. Lily thanked her and mentioned that Serena had talked with her about the birth and what to expect. Lily was worried, but also very excited about meeting her new sister or brother.

  As they helped Serena to change and stripped the bed to ready it for the birthing, Portia regaled them with stories about her cider business and the men who thought her cider the best in the world until they learned it had been made by a woman. One man had been buying the cider for his hotel for several months, and then upon learning the owner was a woman, he had decided to pay only half of his bill, as he’d suddenly decided the product was inferior. Portia had turned up at his establishment with men and a cart and demanded full payment, or else they would take the unopened barrels back. He paid her in full that night, and was still one of her best customers.

  Cook arrived and spent a considerable amount of time examining Serena, who looked beautiful propped against the pillows in a sheer linen nightgown. Finally Cook motioned for Portia to step outside with her. Beatrice watched them go with a look of concern on her face, but she stayed holding Serena’s hand and chatting about the sex of the baby and whom the child might look like.

  “She’s early and the baby hasn’t turned,” Cook explained to Portia in a low voice.

  “What does that mean?”

  “The baby is facing the wrong way. The head should be down; instead the legs and bottom are. If I can’t get the baby to turn, well … the baby will come out backward, if he comes out at all. The risk of death for both of them is much higher when the babe is not in the correct position.”

  Portia’s hand flew to her mouth. Fear inched to every part of her body, and she felt faint.

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  “I’ve tried turning the little one, but I’m not strong enough. I need a pair of strong hands to try to turn the baby, and soon. If Lady Hawkestone goes fully into labor before we turn the baby …”

  “Grayson! Grayson is here,” Portia cried.

  Cook finally smiled. “I was going to wait for his lordship to return, but time is of the essence, and I have no idea what condition he might be in when he does return. Husbands tend to panic in these situations. Fetch Lord Blackwood—quickly.”

  Portia had no idea where to even start. She found Christian’s butler on his way back from the stables, where he had gone to dispatch a groom to find Lord Markham, and asked him to have the staff look for Lord Blackwood and send him to her ladyship’s suite.

  After the butler departed, Portia went in search of Grayson herself as well. She went to the library, but he wasn’t there. She made her way to the billiard room, but her spirits sank when he wasn’t there either. She was just about to turn from the room when she spied a trail of smoke coming from the darkened terrace at the far end of the masculine room. “Grayson?” she called.

  He stepped through the doorway, cheroot in hand, cravat hanging loose.

  “Portia? I thought we weren’t meeting until tomorrow.” He dropped the cheroot on the terrace and ground it underfoot. He stepped further into the room, and after just one look asked, “What’s wrong?” He was across the room in a few long strides, pulling her into his arms, making her feel for a moment that everything would work out.

  She burst into tears, hiding her face against his hard chest. “It’s Serena. The baby is coming, and it is facing the wrong way. You have to come and help.”

  She felt his muscles tighten beneath her hands. “Has anyone sent for Christian?”

  “Yes, but she needs help now. We are not strong enough to help her.” She pulled herself out of his arms, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the door. “Come.”

  Chapter 20

  Portia was virtually running up the stairs, dragging him along. He wished Christian were here. He should be here. If Grayson let anything happen to Serena in Christian’s absence, he didn’t know how he would face his friend.

  His hands felt clammy and he had no idea how on earth he was supposed to help, but Portia wasn’t stopping to answer questions. As they neared Serena’s suite Grayson’s heart began to race. Portia didn’t even knock but simply burst through the door into the birthing chamber, Grayson close behind.

  He skidded to a halt. He didn’t know where to look. He knew his face must have flushed because Serena had a teasing twinkle in her eye. “Who would ever have thought that I’d invite the handsome Lord Blackwood into my bedchamber? Best we not mention it to Christian.” A slight grimace of pain crossed her features before she let out a big breath. She turned to Cook. “The contractions are getting stronger and closer together.”

  “Then we need to hurry. Don’t just stand there, my lord—get over here where I can use you.”

  Grayson didn’t even think of disobeying Cook’s command, but he was a fish out of water.

  Serena gave him a wan smile. “I’m too excited and too uncomfortable to care that you’re seeing me like this. Thank you for coming to help.”

  He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll do anything I can to help you.” Sounding more courageous than he felt, he turned to Cook. “What do you want me to do?”

  Cook had drawn
Serena’s shift up to her chest while draping a sheet over her hips, exposing her rotund belly. At that moment Grayson wanted to run, but then he looked at Portia. Her face was composed, and she looked at him as if he were their savior. He didn’t think he could bear it if he let her down again.

  Portia and Beatrice stood on either side of the bed, Portia holding Serena’s hand and Beatrice wiping her face with a flannel.

  Suddenly Serena’s face contorted with pain and she let out a moan, her whole body racked with spasms. Soon she flopped back onto her pillows.

  “Now we work. The baby’s head is here,” said Cook, pointing to the top of Serena’s stomach. “We need to turn the baby so its head is facing downward.”

  Grayson hid his look of horror. How on earth was he to do that? “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  She took his hands and placed them on Serena’s stomach. “I need you to press on one side as hard as you can. We need to get this stubborn baby to turn around.”

  He flashed a look at Serena, then turned back to Cook. “Will I hurt her or the baby?”

  “Well, it won’t be comfortable, but there will be no pain for Serena or the little one, and you could be saving this baby’s life.”

  Serena raised her head. “I just want this baby safely out of me. Just do it—for me, please, Grayson.”

  He drew back and took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and followed Cook’s directions to the letter. He blocked out Serena’s cries, ignored the heat of the room, forgot Beatrice’s anxious expression, chose not to think about Portia’s faith in him, and listened solely to Cook’s directions.

  For almost twenty minutes he pushed gently but firmly on Serena’s stomach, pausing each time a contraction overtook her. Finally, Cook was satisfied the baby was in the right position, and suggested Grayson might want to wait outside for Serena to give birth.

  Portia showed him to the door and gave him his jacket. Before he left he gave Serena what he hoped was an encouraging smile and she nodded back. Portia followed him from the room, and before he could say a word had pulled his head down and was kissing him soundly on his lips.

  “Thank you, Grayson. I will never forget what you did today.”

  “I don’t feel as if I’ve done anything, really.”

  “You saved Serena’s life and probably her child’s too.”

  Grayson merely nodded, and she ran her hand down his chest before disappearing back into the bedchamber. He hoped God heard Portia’s words, and that Serena and the baby would live.

  He trudged back to the library and stood before the fire, looking into the flames. Life and death seemed so arbitrary. There was a battle raging upstairs in the bathing chamber, and they were yet to know who would win.

  What would have happened if he hadn’t been here? Would his actions change the outcome? They both could still die, or he might have made the difference between life and death.

  His gut churned as he stood helplessly in the study, knowing he’d done all he could and that it was now up to God to decide their fates. He felt as he had on the battlefield, first having to hold Robert as he died, knowing he could do nothing, and again when Christian was burned.

  Death was part of life, for everyone dies. With blinding clarity he saw it wasn’t the manner in which people died that defined them, but how they chose to live their life. Now he could clearly see he was not running from death but hiding from life.

  It occurred to him that Portia had been sent to teach him how to live. With her joy for life and her ability to trust in those around her and see the perfectness of the world for those brave enough to grab it, he needed her to be by his side every day to remind him how good life was and how many possibilities it held.

  Grayson sank down into a chair in Christian’s study, warmed by the fact he no longer feared loss. In this world or the next, he was positive he would be reunited with those he loved, and he wanted to be able to face them, knowing he’d not wasted the joy of living. He would place his trust in God, and live for those who could not.

  The waiting was not easy. The muffled screams began to get louder and more frequent, and he rose and moved to the sideboard, pulling the top off one of the decanters. He sniffed it. Whiskey—good. Brandy would not be strong enough to get any of them through this night.

  He prayed that for Serena’s sake it wouldn’t be too long a night. He took the chair by the window, looked out into the moonlit night, and thought about what he’d just done. His father, his mother, Lucinda, and Robert would all be proud. He realized that at some point in the future, if he won Portia’s love back, she would go through this pain and suffering to bear him a child. The thought of the risks to mother and child sent shudders through his body, but he knew he would be by her side all the way.

  Maybe it would be a blessing if Christian didn’t make it back until it was all over. Lord knew he was anxious; what would Christian be feeling?

  Only moments later he heard the front door crash open and the pounding of Christian’s boots hitting the stairs. He wasn’t surprised when the door to the library opened and in walked Sebastian, his face pale, and Maitland, stoic as usual.

  He rose and moved to the sideboard. “Drink, gentlemen?” and he held out the decanter of whiskey.

  “Is Beatrice with her?” Sebastian asked.

  “Yes, Portia and Beatrice have not left her side.”

  Sebastian sank into a chair, drank the tot of whiskey Grayson had poured him, and stuck out his glass for another. “God, look,” he said, and he showed his hand. “I’m shaking, and Beatrice’s time is not for another few months. Christian’s a mess. How do we stand it?”

  Maitland’s answer was surprisingly astute for a man who showed little emotion. “If they can decide that the joy of life is worth the pain, then men should support and worship them for it. Weaker sex, my arse. Here’s to women and their bravery.” He lifted his glass and downed its contents.

  Not surprisingly, Christian didn’t reappear until the next morning, choosing to stay with his wife. Beatrice and Portia took turns to come down and give the nervous men news. Everything was progressing as it should, they were informed, but Serena’s screams didn’t make the waiting any easier.

  The men downstairs played faro and billiards, and finally went for a ride as soon as dawn broke, needing to escape from the tension pervading the house. They took Lily with them. She of all of them remained upbeat. The sun shone, the day was warm, and as Grayson breathed deep, he couldn’t help but think life was grand. God would never let anything bad happen on a day like today.

  The men returned to the house two hours later. As they entered, quiet greeted them. Portia stood at the top of the stairs, a radiant smile upon her beautiful face. “It’s a boy. Mother and baby are well, but I’m not sure about Christian,” she said, laughing.

  Lily squealed with delight and raced up the stairs. “May I see her?”

  Portia merely nodded, still looking at Grayson.

  Grayson simply smiled at her, all else forgotten, as the other two men shouted in relief. God, she was wonderful, and his heart overflowed with love. He walked up the stairs to meet her. She had black circles under her eyes. “You must be exhausted,” he said.

  She took his hand and put it on her bosom. “Feel my heart—it’s racing with joy. He’s beautiful. If anyone should be exhausted, it’s Serena. She was marvelous.”

  Just then Christian emerged behind her, carrying his son in his arms. He looked so proud yet terrified as he carried the precious bundle. They all gathered around this little miracle. Beatrice swore he looked like Christian, but Grayson thought he had Serena’s eyes. Hell, who could tell at this age? As long as he was healthy, nobody cared. “He certainly has a fine pair of lungs on him,” Maitland said admiringly.

  “We’ve named him Robert.” At everyone’s surprised gasp, Christian added wryly, “Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to name him after my or Serena’s father.” He turned to Portia. “Robert was a good and fine man. We all mi
ss him.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “Would you like to hold him?” Christian handed the crying baby to Portia. She smiled down at him, and baby Robert stopped crying instantly, clearly enraptured with her.

  “She has the touch,” Beatrice laughed. “I suspect Serena and I will be calling on you constantly—that is, until you get busy having children of your own. Oh, whoops!” Beatrice clapped a hand over her mouth and looked from Grayson to Portia.

  Portia’s smile died and she handed the baby back to Christian. “That’s all right. I do hope to have children one day.” She looked at Grayson and held his gaze as if challenging him to deny it.

  “You’ll make a marvelous mother.” His answer seemed to pacify her.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up and change.” With that she slipped away from him again.

  Beatrice came and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for what you did for Serena and Robert. If you love Portia, truly love her, please don’t give up. She loves you and is the least likely of anyone to bear a grudge. After what you did, I bet she’s already forgiven you.”

  “Will someone tell me what he did?” Christian asked.

  Grayson, lost in thought, barely heard Beatrice explain his role in the birth of Christian’s son. Instead he made his way to the kitchen, an idea brewing in his mind.

  Chapter 21

  As Portia soaked in the bath, she couldn’t get the image of Grayson’s large hands palpating Serena’s swollen belly out of her mind. He’d been magnificent. She knew from the way his hands had been shaking that he’d been nervous, and it was a terrible position for him to find himself in. What if it hadn’t worked and Serena and the baby had died? He would have blamed himself for the rest of his life. But he hadn’t hesitated to do what was needed. She had never been so proud of him.

  Witnessing new life entering this world was exhilarating; that must be why her heart was racing and why she wanted to see Grayson. She’d forgiven him everything because of the way he’d helped Serena.