Sebastian and Tristan were surrounded on all sides by the innumerable bags containing their purchases and even Amir had been called in to help. The stolid man never missed an opportunity to assist Sebastian and the earl knew he could depend on him to keep his mouth shut.
“Yes, the problem is getting her into it. She’s so damn stubborn.”
Sebastian repressed a smile as he watched the man beside him sip his tea primly. He didn’t know what his mother had against gays, really. He’d seen more flamboyant men at his own family gatherings.
“That she is.”
They watched Gabby gush over a tiny white and green onesie as she herself pranced around in a flattering marigold hued sundress that accentuated her rounding curves. It was the happiest Sebastian had seen the young woman in a long time, and the sight warmed him quite a bit – at least as much as listening to his child’s heartbeat on the monitor in the hospital.
“You’re lucky, you know.”
He looked over to see Tristan gesturing to a nearby salesgirl for more tea. Arching a brow, he set his own cup down. “Am I?”
Tristan turned back to him to fix Sebastian with an amber gaze that spoke volumes of the world it had experienced. “You are. You might think that Gabby’s the one with all the luck – pushed into the spotlight and pampered by a rich handsome man – mother of the child that will surely capture the adoration of the British public…but really, you’re the lucky one.”
Sebastian didn’t know quite what to say, and so, he simply let the man continue. Tristan nodded in the direction of the woman holding up a red silk maternity top to her torso. “Gabrielle’s been through a lot, Sebastian. She lost her mother when she needed her the most and her father doesn’t give two shits about her. The only thing that’s ever made her truly happy is her painting…until now.”
Looking over his shoulder at Gabby’s radiant smile, Tristan’s lips curved in what was unmistakably love. Not the kind of love that one had for a romantic interest, but the kind of intense loyalty that connected people across lifetimes. “Pregnancy has changed her. Even through all of the hoops she’s had to jump through, she’s genuinely anticipating motherhood. Her panic has turned to excitement. She is going to
love
this baby like she has nothing before – which means that like it or not, even after it’s born –
whatever
reason you concoct for sending her away – she’ll remain a part of your life by default. So, whatever you’re planning, do it gently.”
The saleswoman poured him another cup of tea and Tristan fell into a discreet silence until she had moved away. When he looked at Sebastian again, his honey colored gaze held a touch of something dangerous – something that inspired trepidation in the earl as nothing had since his years in the armed forces. “If you hurt Gabby, I will find you. I’ll get to you through that hunk of Arabian man flesh that you keep around and I’ll snatch your balls out through your throat so I can watch you bleed your highborn blood all over the Duchess’ marble foyer.”
The man’s smile was nothing but cordial as he sipped at his libation, his hair perfectly coiffed, and Sebastian didn’t think he’d ever been more intimidated in his life. “Are we perfectly clear?”
“Absolutely.” What else could he say?
Though he doubted that the man was capable of so crude an act, the mere fact that he’d uttered the words demonstrated his absolute devotion to Gabrielle. He might not kill him, but Tristan would certainly see that he suffered, and that was enough.
“Wonderful that we’re on the same page.” Tristan’s smile was, once again, saccharine sweet, as if he hadn’t been threatening Sebastian’s manhood only moments earlier. He extended his teacup for a toast. “To the little bundle of joy then!”
Sebastian touched his cup to the smaller man’s, caught somewhere between amusement and nervousness. Gabrielle certainly kept some…interesting company. However, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she inspired such loyalty in the people she was closest to.
She was, after all, quite the unique woman.
Raising her hand, Gabrielle waved at them as she raised a bundle of the garments she’d chosen. Tristan arched a brow, glancing over at him. “Is it my go or yours?”
Sebastian chuckled. “I wasn’t aware that we were in a pissing contest of riches, Tristan.”
“Oh, we’re not.” Tristan set his empty teacup on the small table before them, rising. “Trust me, you’d lose.” Sebastian was left to stare after him, wondering who on earth the man could be working for that he could be making enough to rival an earl.
Though everything around Sebastian was hectic, he was glad to see that at least his business ventures were thriving. Gabrielle was more than halfway along in her pregnancy and things had been going as smooth as could be expected – considering that his mother was still driving them halfway out of their minds.
Though he had stopped letting her blatantly insult Gabrielle in his presence, it was harder to stop her hand when it came to planning out her grandchild’s future. It seemed that every day he received a call from some new boarding school or prestigious tutoring center inquiring about enrollment. There were orders for a pony for the developing baby and an expense account had been opened for it as well.
One hundred thousand pounds in the bank four months before one was born – it had to be a record.
But Sebastian knew that money wouldn’t go towards sweets and playdates and daytrips. It would be spent on learning French, Latin and other difficult languages. There would be violin and piano lessons, hours of etiquette and outings only with children of equal social stature. The Duchess would dictate the child’s every move and the more he thought on the subject, the more conflicted Sebastian became.
He didn’t want to subject another child to the cold loneliness of his own upbringing. How many times had he seen families picnicking with their children in Trafalgar square or flying kites in the countryside? They were all smiles and contentment – and more importantly, they were together.
He and Gabrielle would be split apart after the birth of the child – it would already be shuffled from one parent to the other. His mother wanted to keep it from its parents almost entirely for the sake of breeding, and Sebastian was beginning to realize that he detested her method of child rearing.
Unfortunately, telling her such a thing to her face was still easier said than done. Upsetting his mother could have disastrous consequences. If she decided to go digging, there was no telling what she could find. She had the power to send Gabrielle packing at a moment’s whim, and the child with her.
Shaking his head, Sebastian tried to concentrate on the figures on the screen before him. As he did so, the phone beside him buzzed and he cringed. If he had to answer another of his mother’s mindless messages today, he thought he might go insane. Reluctantly, he reached for his phone to check the text and his mouth fell open.
It was Gabrielle.
She had sent him a racy image of herself in one of the lacy nightgowns she had bought the previous month. She was stretched out on the silken sheets of their bed, her hair spread out like a dark halo around her head as she gazed into the image with a come hither expression. Her breasts, filled out at the impetus of the child growing in her belly, pressed alluringly against the neckline of the scant fabric and he could clearly see the hardened nubs of her nipples and her distended, minute belly button atop the swell of her stomach.
Sebastian stood quickly as all the blood in his body surged downward. Good Lord, was she waiting for him, in
that,
right now?
It was time to take a break from his investments.
“Sebastian, sweetheart?”
Instantly, he dropped back into his chair to hide his burgeoning erection as his mother’s voice carried to him. Within an instant she had breezed into the office, smelling of expensive floral perfume and clad in an elegant Prada sheath. On her arm was that aggressive little poodle she loved – Yates, if he recalled correctly. He’d often contemplated packing the little ball of fur in a miniscule box and shipping it to China. “There you are, darling.”
Amelia strode across the office to deposit a number of leaflets on his desk. They were, he noticed, for another round of finishing schools that she expected him to read about, and he frowned, preparing for a lecture. “I’ve just picked these up. You can give them a quick little read through and let me know what you think.
Munster’s
in Switzerland is ridiculously exclusive – they only offer ten places to foreign students a year, but I’ve managed to get us an interview.”
“A secondary school?” Sebastian attempted to keep the exasperation from his voice. “Mother, don’t you think it’s a bit early?”
“It’s
never
too early, darling! The early bird gets the exclusive finishing school slot!” She laughed winningly, the sound grating on Sebastian’s nerves. “Which reminds me.” Within moments, she had dropped Yates on the floor and the little thing had pounced off to chew on a pair of his loafers. His mother dropped into the chair across from him, her expression eager. “How did the doctor’s visit yesterday go? Surely they must have some idea of the sex by now?”
Sebastian grit his teeth, praying for composure.
They’d given Gabby and himself their first opportunity to know their child’s sex over a month ago – they had simply elected not to be told. Gabby remained adamant every time they visited the doctor that she wanted to be surprised and the glow of anticipation in her eyes warmed his heart. He knew she would love the child regardless of its sex – she wasn’t playing favorites.
He himself secretly hoped for a girl - a tiny thing with Gabrielle’s breathtaking eyes and curly black ringlets.
But the Duchess demanded to know the sex as soon as they had discovered it; not because she genuinely preferred one or the other, but because knowing whether the baby was a boy or girl was vital to her plans for its future. Sebastian had been brushing her off for weeks by simply sidestepping the subject, but he knew that wouldn’t last for much longer.
He himself was struck by how a woman who’d had a child herself didn’t know the stage of development during which child could be sexed. It was if all the biological nuances of the child’s well-being had been completely forgotten in Amelia’s haste to procure a good reputation for it.
“Mother…” He exhaled slowly, suddenly exhausted. “Gabrielle doesn’t want to know the sex.”
For a moment, the Duchess stared at him as if she hadn’t heard him properly. “She what?”
“She doesn’t want to know the sex,” Sebastian repeated flatly. “She wants it to be a surprise.”
“How perfectly ridiculous!” Amelia threw her hands up, her voice shrill enough to startle Yates from his ruined leather treat. “A surprise! How does one plan for a
surprise
? Does a surprise take riding lessons or polo? Does it wear dresses or caveats? A
surprise
cannot cause anything but, trouble, Sebastian – you mark my words.” Amelia stood, smoothing her dress as she took a deep breath, her face slowly losing some of its color.
When she next spoke, her voice was calmer. “Now, you’re going to march upstairs right this instant and you’re going to tell your
wife
,” the word was strained, “that you’re going right back to the doctors this instant and you are going to demand to know the sex of the baby. Is that quite understood?”
Sebastian could picture it now. Trudging upstairs to find the vision of beauty in their bed only to have to inform her of another of his mother’s ridiculous mandates. She would be shocked. She would be furious – and he would almost certainly never see silk negligee again. That, however, was the least of his concerns. Up until this point, Gabby had been dealing admirably with his mother’s controlling behavior – as admirably as she could under the circumstances. If he told her she’d have to ruin one of the things that most excited her, she would be devastated.
He couldn’t do it.
He
wouldn’t
do it.
“No, mother.”
Amelia Hunter’s eyes threatened to pop from her head. “
Pardon
me?”
“I said ‘
No
’,” Sebastian snapped, his patience gone. He rose to his feet to tower above the woman before him, his eyes blazing. “If Gabrielle wishes the child’s sex to be a surprise, than a surprise it will remain. I give not the slightest whit,” he shoved the leaflets she’d bought him from his desk and onto the floor, “about Swiss secondary schools or secondary schools of any manner. The babe isn’t yet born! These things are of little to no consequence!”
“
Sebastian!”
Despite the fact that she was a good foot and a half shorter than him, his mother’s rage filled the room. “You have
no
idea how hard I had to work to make you the man you are today! The planning and the dedication! Do you
want
your child to be common? Nameless?”
“I want my child to be happy!” Sebastian roared, his fist pounding onto the polished mahogany surface between them so even his mother jumped. He felt the rage and desperation of years of neglect bubbling to the surface and found that he could no longer keep it at bay. “There will be no riding lessons, no etiquette, no ten thousand dollar hospital suite and
no
more ridiculous demands! This child is not yours, mother, it’s ours! Mine and Gabrielle’s! And if you think, for one minute, that I will allow you to rob it of its childhood like you robbed me of mine, then you are
severely
mistaken.”