Wedding Night With the Earl (29 page)

Adam tensed. He knew from his friend’s tone and look of apprehension that something was wrong. “What is it?”

“It’s Bray’s wife. It’s her time and she’s having difficulty.”

In the darkness behind Harrison, Adam saw Annie lying in bed, drenched in sweat, shrieking in pain, gasping for every breath. She swore she hated him for planting the babe inside her. She begged him to save her life and then begged him to save the baby’s life.

“Adam,” Harrison said.

Shaking off the memories, he whispered, “Damnation.”

“He didn’t want you to know. For obvious reasons. I’ve gone against his wishes to come tell you. I felt you should know. You don’t have to go, but I knew it had to be your decision whether or not you went to stand beside him.”

Old memories welled and threatened him again, but Adam fought them away. “Hell, yes, I’m going,” he said. “It’ll take time to get my carriage ready. May I ride with you?”

“Of course, let’s go.”

Thankfully, Harrison remained quiet and didn’t try to talk with Adam on the short ride to Bray’s house. Adam was having a hard enough time keeping his own thoughts at bay without having to hear Harrison’s as well. It wasn’t something he’d allowed himself to dwell on, but at the back of his mind, he’d always known there was a chance something would go wrong with one of their wives during birth.

“Adam, you shouldn’t have come,” Bray said as he and Harrison walked into Bray’s book room. “I didn’t want you to. There’s no reason to put yourself through—”

“Bray,” Adam said, touching his arm to stop him. “I want to be here. How are things now?”

“As you know too well, the husband is the last one to be told anything.”

Adam knew. The midwife had kept him out of Annie’s room, too. After she’d labored more than a day and a half, Adam had defied the woman’s orders and gone in to see his wife. The image of her distended, sweat-drenched body lying on the bed in that hot, dark room would always be with him, but now he had to block it from his mind.

“The midwife keeps telling me nothing is wrong. That it takes longer for some women to deliver than others. But I know the labor is going on too long.”

Adam remembered hearing those same words.

“She’s my wife, having my babe, and I’m locked out of her room,” Bray continued. “I sent for the same accoucheur you brought in for Annie.”

“Good,” Adam said, but felt no relief hearing it. The man hadn’t been able to help Annie.

“He’s with her now. Hopefully he’ll be down and tell me something soon.”

“I’m sure he will,” Adam said. “Where are her sisters?”

“The two youngest wore themselves out with worry and fell asleep. The older two are with Louisa.” Bray rubbed his hands together. “I was sent word they were a comfort to her.”

“That’s good,” Harrison said.

“Yes, but if someone doesn’t come down soon with a report, I’m going to ignore the rules of propriety and go see for myself how she is doing, even if I have to knock the blasted door down.”

“You remember how they are. For some reason they think the fathers will taint the birthing room,” Harrison said.

“It’s probably best we’re not allowed in,” Adam offered.

From above them, they heard Louisa cry out. Bray started for the door. “Enough of this foolishness. I’m going to see my wife.”

Adam and Harrison looked at each other but said nothing. For more than half an hour, they took turns silently pacing in front of the fireplace, then over to the window and to the bottom of the stairs, and then back into the book room. Time was passing slowly for all of them.

Finally Harrison said, “I’m going to step outside for a few minutes. Come get me if there’s news.”

Adam nodded and walked over to the window and stared out into the darkness. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there when he heard a voice behind him.

He turned. It was the male midwife who had tried to help Annie. “What did you say?”

“The duke has a son, and the babe and the duchess are in good health.”

Relief flooded Adam. He hadn’t realized until that moment that his legs were weak and his breaths were long and shallow. “You’re sure.”

“I feel confident they are. The duchess was sitting up in bed holding the babe when I left.”

“That’s good news.”

“I remember you,” the accoucheur said. “But I believe you’re Lord Greyhawke now.”

Adam nodded. “I guess there was no problem with the babe being too big to be born.”

The man’s brow wrinkled as he looked at Adam. “All births are different and some can be risky, but it really doesn’t matter about the size of the babe,” he said soberly.

Adam looked at the gray-haired man. “What do you mean? The size of the babe doesn’t matter?”

“Large babes are born every day, my lord. What makes the difference is how the mother’s body responds to the delivery process and how it pushes the babe out that counts. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do more for your wife. Not even forceps will help when the body doesn’t cooperate and open up so you can get them in.”

“Because the baby was so big,” Adam said again.

The man’s eyes narrowed as if he weren’t following Adam’s meaning. “You thought your wife couldn’t deliver the baby because it was too big?”

“That’s what I was told,” Adam said cautiously.

“I’m sure your wife felt that way, but that wasn’t the reason she couldn’t deliver. Her body failed her by not responding to the labor and opening. It had nothing to do with the size of the baby. It could have been the size of my hand and it wouldn’t have made any difference in the outcome for her. I have seen many small women, much smaller than your wife, have large, healthy babies. The body is supposed to open and make way for the babe to push through. Hers never did.”

Adam felt as if his whole body were tingling. “So if I were to have another baby, there may not be a problem.”

“There’s no reason to think there would be. What happened to your wife had nothing to do with you or the babe. I’d say the odds were good that there wouldn’t be a problem at all. It all depends on the mother. Some babes come fast, others take their time. But the mother’s body has to do its part, too.”

Adam walked over to a chair and sat down.

Chapter 28

I do believe thee: I saw his heart in his face.

—The Winter’s Tale,
act 1, scene 2

Oh, he was torturing her. Every time she looked his way, Adam was watching her. It didn’t matter if he was talking to a group of gentlemen, to her friend Madeline, or to one of the dowagers sitting around the dance floor, always his gaze found Katherine’s. And every time it did, he made her ache with longing. She’d tried not to look at him. Tried not to even glance in his direction. Oh, how she’d tried! But her eyes would not be controlled by her mind. Only by her heart.

What was he doing at the ball, anyway? He had stayed away all Season thus far. Perhaps he had come just to fill her with the pain of loss. She thought he’d already left London and that she’d never see him again. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to see him. Her decision had been made, and seeing him only made her wish things between them could have been different. His reasons for not wanting children were valid, but so were her reasons for needing to have children of her own.

He couldn’t change, but neither could she.

Katherine understood this and would have to bear the heartache, no matter how deeply it hurt her.

When she’d told the duke she’d decided not to marry Lord Greyhawke, he’d huffed out a low, exasperated sigh, turned his back on her, and walked silently away. That had stung. Aunt Leola had been more considerate and asked if she’d wanted to talk about what had happened. When Katherine declined, Aunt Leola hadn’t pressed. She never would. She was much too polite to pry.

Katherine had worried that it would be unfair to marry Lord Rudyard knowing she loved Adam so deeply. But after much thought, she had decided she would be giving the viscount many things most people valued in someone they loved and wanted to marry. She would give Lord Rudyard loyalty, honor, and all the children he wanted. She would also give him control of a handsome fortune.

So with her promise to her uncle weighing heavily on her mind and only a week left of the Season, Katherine had planned to tell Lord Rudyard tonight that she would marry him. But just as her courage peaked and she was ready to say the words, Lord Greyhawke had walked into the ballroom, looking so dashing, so confident, that she felt as if her heart had melted into a puddle at her feet. It was as if he knew exactly when she had planned her acceptance and had come to disrupt her.

“You don’t seem yourself tonight, Miss Wright. Are you tired?”

“No, my lord. I am well.”

“Perhaps I should get you a cup of punch or another glass of champagne?”

“No, no more bubbles for me, but thank you, my lord. You do not have to stay every moment by my side. You should be dancing and enjoying yourself.”

“I am quite contented being by your side, Miss Wright.”

“But you are making me feel bad. I insist you find someone to enjoy the next dance with.”

“Since you insist,” he said with a smile, “I will. I don’t think I’ve seen Miss Penny Marchfield on the dance floor this evening. Perhaps she’d like to give it a go.”

“That would be so kind of you. I know she loves to dance and doesn’t get asked as much as other young ladies do.”

“If it will please you, I shall go ask her right now.”

“Absolutely.”

Katherine watched him stroll toward Penny. And she thought again what a nice man he was. If only she could develop those thrilling feelings of wanton desire for him that she felt with Adam, they would probably have a good life together.

Penny’s face lit up like the glittering candles in the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling when Lord Rudyard asked her to dance. She looked over at Katherine and gave her a huge smile as the viscount led her to the dance floor.

Katherine laughed and waved to her. It felt wonderful to make Penny feel so special.

“Good evening, Miss Wright.”

A shiver of anticipation skipped up Katherine’s back at the sound of Adam’s voice. She turned, curtsied, and looked up into his gorgeous eyes. “Lord Greyhawke.”

“You’re beautiful tonight,” he said. “I believe you are wearing the gown you wore the night we met.”

Katherine looked down at the gauzy pink gown. A warmth flooded her. He remembered what she had on that night.

“Yes, I was,” she answered softly. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“I remember everything about you. Everything we said, every look and every touch.”

Her throat went dry as his words washed silkily down her. “That is not something you should say to me here. Someone might hear you.”

“It’s true.”

“Why are you here? I thought you might have already left.”

“My business isn’t finished,” he said.

So he’d come to say good-bye. Her eyes moistened, but she quickly blinked the wetness away.

“Well,” she said, suddenly feeling sad and angry at the same time, “Perhaps it will be soon. I know you are eager to leave. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I’d like to speak to.”

She turned to walk away, but he touched her arm and stopped her. “No, don’t go. I’d like to talk to you.”

It might be easy for him to have a long good-bye, but it certainly wasn’t for her. “I really don’t want to talk to you, my lord. I believe we said all there was to say to each other a few days ago.”

“You are angry with me.”

“Yes,” she admitted. There was no reason not to when he was leaving.

“You’re disappointed.”

“That, too, not that you care or that it’s any of your business.”

“Broken-hearted.”

She nodded, seeing no reason not to be honest but unable to say more. If he was going, she just wanted him to go.

“You love me.”

“Stop torturing me, Adam,” she whispered.

“I know you love me, Katherine.”

She remained silent.

“I love you, too,” he said softly.

“If you make me cry here in this room, I will hate you the rest of my life,” she said earnestly.

He smiled. “I’m not going to make you cry, my love, and I’m not going to leave. I’m going to dance with you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She was too stunned to do anything but blink.

“The next score that will be played is a waltz. I intend to dance it with you.”

Frantically, she shook her head. “I won’t. I can’t.”

“The first time I spoke to you, it was to ask you to dance. Do you remember?”

She nodded. “Of course. I’m not likely to ever forget that night.”

“I know you have continued to practice.”

Her eyes queried him. “How do you know that?”

“I know you.”

“Even if I have, it doesn’t mean I’m ready to dance at a ball with two hundred people watching me. I can’t.”

“You were already very good when we danced in your garden. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could do it. I have faith in you, and you can trust me.”

“But I don’t trust you,” she said, near tears again. “Because you don’t trust me.”

“What makes you think I don’t trust you?”

“You don’t trust me to give you a son.”

The quadrille ended and the dancers started leaving the floor.

“Dance with me and then we’ll talk about that. I’m not going to allow your uncles, aunt, or Lord Rudyard to keep you an invalid. You don’t need that cane, and you are going to prove it to everyone right now. Now, give it to me.”

Other dancers started making their way to the dance floor and getting in the starting position for the waltz.

“You don’t understand. I’m frightened.”

“I’ve been frightened before, too, but someone that I love very much told me that life is full of risks and that anything worth having is bound to come with a little risk.”

“Don’t make a fool of me, Adam.”

“I promise I’m not going to. The cane.”

She looked down at her hand. The grip on her cane was tight but he was right. She did trust him. She lifted the cane and handed it to him.

“Ah, good evening, Lord Greyhawke,” the viscount said as he walked up to them.