by Irene Estep
"It is not that," she said, glancing at him shyly. "But, you have not yet heard my expectations."
The memory of the night she promised to make such known to him sent blood surging to his lower region. He did not think he could make it another day without claiming her completely as his own. With less patience than he felt, he said, "Shall we wait, then, until the Banns are completed."
"Unless you are willing to take a chance."
"A chance?"
She whispered, since Druscilla seemed to be leaning further and further out the carriage window. "Wh--What if my expectations seem to you unreasonable?"
"Perhaps," Drake said, "you could tell me what it is that you wish and let me decide now."
She leaned close and whispered in his ear.
"Good God!" Drake almost lost the iron control he’d maintained over his libido for the past several days. Reminded of her coming apart beneath his touch, and her whispered expectations of being taught how she could please him in similar manner, almost did him in. He refrained from laughing at her ludicrous fears that he might find her expectations exceptionally difficult for him to bear and said with much seriousness, "I’ll gladly teach you that, love, and much, much more."
"Oh, Drake!" She threw her arms around him. "I love you so very much."
"And I you, Claresta." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her until the front door swung open and Nan snorted loudly. "Such goings on, and in front of all and sundry, too."
"Good evening, Nan," Drake said, but did not release his hold on his soon-to-be bride.
Another nasal titter, but this one sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Claresta realized that all and sundry included her future mother-in-law who smiled broadly from the coach and didn’t seem at all disturbed by the "goings on." Nan had a point, though. She must start practicing more decorum. She would do so after she kissed Drake goodnight one more time. She did so with more intimacy than Nan had ever witnessed before.
The front door slammed, and Druscilla’s laughter could be heard a block away. Neither sound penetrated the couples cloud of amour.
EPILOGUE
Holly and garland decorated the elaborate ballroom at Norwood Manor. Chandeliers glistened and reflected light off the wood floors that servants had spent an entire day polishing with beeswax.
It was New Year’s Eve, and gala affairs given by the Earl and Countess of Norwood were so rare the servants had wanted everything perfect for the happy couple. Because of the infrequency of such gatherings and the couple’s general lack of interest in the Beau Monde, many of the upper ten thousand coveted an invitation to the country for such events. And rarely did one come away from a Norwood gathering without a lively tale to tell.
Sitting on a pair of the chairs off to one corner of the room, Druscilla Lockwood and Thurmond were in deep conversation about new laws before parliament that would prevent mistreatment of young children used as climbing boys. The Norwoods had donated a large sum to the Climbing Boy Society. Claresta strived to keep her promise to do everything possible to see that other young children like Charlie would not be misused and abused by unscrupulous chimney sweeps.
Charlie and Juny were very happy with their household positions at Norwood Manor. Although, they spent as much time roaming the countryside on the new ponies Lord Norwood had given them as they did doing their chores.
It was left to Nan to keep a close eye on Francine who was holding court before several admirers vying for her attention. The girl was a diamond of the first water. And she was being turned up sweet by every young buck in the room. Nan snorted when one pink of the ton, in his overzealous struggle to get closer, almost tumbled into the girl’s lap.
Franny had postponed her come-out, not wishing, she’d said, to overshadow her brother’s nuptials. But the upcoming Season was sure to be a success, as all the young nobles seemed quite taken by her beauty. She glanced up occasionally to seek out a certain gentleman in the crowd who wasn’t paying her tribute. Satisfied when she found Edwin watching her intently with a disapproving frown on his face, she turned back to her suitors and laughed gaily.
Lord Norwood led his wife out on the dance floor. They had been married ten months now, and he wanted to show her off. She wore a high-waisted gold silk gown with an ochre lace overdress. Her strawberry blonde curls were swept back off her face, and the top of her head was adorned with a diamond and amber tiara that matched the earrings and necklace Drake had given her when he first learned she was carrying his child.
"Are you happy, Lord Norwood?" Claresta asked dreamily.
"How could I not be, Lady Norwood? I have delighted in learning your expectations for the past ten months. I cannot wait until you have this brat, and we can get back to my enlightenment."
"You are incorrigible," she laughed.
"So I am. And what of you, Lady Norwood, are you happy?"
"How could I not be, sir, when I am in the arms of the most dashing, obedient rogue in all of England? By the bye, you simply must talk to Captain Mercer. Edwin says he refuses to haul the cargo of a much needed shipment of chicken skins."
"Chicken skins? Why ever not?"
"Well, they are in a rather raw state."
"Live?"
"Precisely."
Drake threw back his head and laughed. All eyes turned to the couple in wonder, for they paid their guests little heed, as usual. An odd breed, the Earl and Countess of Norwood.
As the handsome earl whirled his wife around the room, they had eyes only for each other. The more reserved guests shook their heads and licked their lips in anticipation of spreading the new on-dit about the ton. "Tsk, tsk," they would say. "Such poor taste for a lady in such advanced stages of enceinte to be seen in public."
Claresta felt another twinge in her lower back, but she’d had the discomfort off and on all day, and since it wasn’t a real pain, she saw no need to mention it to her husband. She wasn’t due for another month, and he was anxious enough about the upcoming birth, as it was.
However, she had laid her fears about childbearing to rest. She’d come to realize that her mother died from lack of care, and she wasn’t likely to suffer such a fate with the good Dr. Adam’s attending to things. Her husband had insisted the doctor move into Norwood Manor after she’d reached her seventh month.
She searched the room and found Dr. Adams leading Miss Peerlace onto the dance floor. Claresta thought the tall, slender lady had an ethereal glow in her features that made her rather pretty this evening.
Claresta felt another twinge, and this time her stomach contracted. Pressed tightly against Drake, she knew he must have felt the movement when he said, "The little rascal is active tonight, is he not?"
"Indeed, he is." She smiled through another contraction and saw the look of concern fade from her husband’s eyes.
Dr. Adams had told her exactly what to expect. The first birth almost always took several hours and since she’d not felt much real pain yet, she felt certain she had plenty of time. She would just finish this dance and then signal for Dr. Adams to attend her.
"Are you well, love?" Drake asked.
She did not wish to upset Drake, or make a scene. In her condition her guests would understand if she wished to retire early. She would make her excuses and leave the ballroom quietly. But first, she wished to finish the dance with her husband.
"I’ve never felt better," she said, and her left eyelid twitched.
"That does it," Drake said, and without regard to convention, he swept his wife up into his arms. Dr. Adams saw, and he and Miss Peerlace ascended the stairs behind Drake. Following them were Nan, Druscilla, Franny, Edwin, Aunt Ester, Mr. Thurmond assisting Lady Norwood, and every servant at Norwood Manor. The guests, left to fend for themselves, stood by with gaped mouths.
"Too bad Reggie is not here," Claresta said and mewled against Drake’s shoulder when a decent pain hit her this time.
"Good God, Dr. Adams do something for her. She isn’t due for another mo
nth," Drake said and laid his wife gently on the bed.
"And what could Lord Westhaven do for you, my dear?" Dr. Adams asked casually as he closed the door in the faces of the folks who had followed them upstairs after Nan shoved her way into the room.
The housekeeper shook her head when Lord Norwood refused to leave. More tittle-tattle for the gossipmongers.
Claresta held tightly to her husband’s hand. "Do not worry, dear. I may have miscalculated by a few weeks."
"Miscalculated?" Drake croaked. "Did you know of this miscalculation, Adams?" Drake’s voice was laced with accusation.
"We may have discussed the possibility a time or two," the doctor said as if it were unimportant.
"You should have told me. I would never have allowed this damned party if I’d known."
"’Tis . . . not . . . his . . . fault," Claresta puffed and panted until another painful contraction passed. "Franny deserved some entertainment after I caused her to miss out on the Season."
"Franny does not hold you at fault for that, Claresta. She’s told you that a thousand times."
Doctor Adams took a peek beneath the draped sheets and exchanged a look with the housekeeper. "Claresta, my dear, it appears you’re one of the lucky few who makes a quick and easy delivery."
"Franny is a dear sister to say soooooo . . ."
"Easy? She is in pain, Adams. Can’t you see that?"
Dr. Adams ignored the distraught father-to-be and went about checking the position of the baby and preparing his instruments for the delivery.
Once the contraction subsided, Claresta continued bantering with Dr. Adams. "If Drake had not sent Reggie off with Captain Mercer, ‘to learn how to be a man,’ as my husband succinctly put it . . ." Claresta stopped to take several quick breaths. "A gaming man like Lord Westhaven could keep the guests so interested in the outcome of the birth that they’d be quite entertained the remainder of the evening."
"Entertained, how?"
Claresta clutched at Drake’s hand.
"My wife is trying to say it is nearly midnight," Drake practically shouted.
Nonplused by the statement, Adams glanced at the clock and agreed. "So it ‘tis."
He washed his hands and dried them on the towel Nan held for him. Then he disappeared from Drake’s view behind the sheets draped over Claresta’s knees.
She cried out, "oooohhh."
"Blast it, man! You promised to take care of her."
"Drake, darling, can’t you just picture it?"
She reached for his shirtfront when he leaned over her. She must be out of her mind with pain, Drake thought, as her hold tightened.
"L-Lord Westhaven posting wagers with everyone game enough to lay down a groat on whether ‘tis to be a boy or a girl."
"Yes, yes, love. Now stay calm," he said in a high pitched voice as she grabbed his cravat in a strangle hold.
"A-And what time the babe would make his d-d-debuuuu . . ."
She screamed in such agony that every fiber of Drake’s body felt her pain, the sudden jolt of release. Relief, dismay and laughter filled the room. Drake could only stare in awe at the tiny, wiggling bundle Adams slapped on the rear.
The baby cried.
"Looks like you’ll have to try for an heir again, Norwood," Adams said and handed the little thing to Nan. Drake had never known anyone who could snort and smile at the same time.
His wife laughed.
"Are you all right, love?" Drake whispered.
She kissed his bloodless cheek and nodded.
"Good," he said, then he slid to the floor.
* * *
Once again the Norwoods were the talk of the ton as their guests took the news back to London. The event was so noteworthy The Morning Post carried the announcement on the front page.
The New Year’s ball at Norwood Manor was interrupted for the arrival of Lady Nancy Druscilla Lockwood, daughter of Lord and Lady Norwood. The babe made her debut at 12:01, January 1, 1819. Mother and daughter are doing well. The father is still recovering.