Never Less Than a Lady

by Mary Jo Putney

  “Yes…aahhhh!” Louisa convulsed in another contraction, her hand locking onto Hazel’s until the knuckles whitened.

  “Soon this will be over,” Julia said soothingly. “Very soon. Remember that your body knows how to have babies and you have three fine strapping boys to prove it. Since this baby is coming a few weeks early, he’ll be smaller and that’s easier for you.”

  The world narrowed down to Louisa and the blood-stained bed as Julia felt her patient’s distended belly with experienced hands. Her brows drew together when she felt the hard ball of the head at the top rather than down near the birth channel.

  Seeing her expression, the countess asked fearfully, “Is…is the baby dead?”

  Julia felt an impact against her left palm. “No, he just kicked me, and he seems very vigorous. But the baby is turned around so his feet will come out first. That’s why you felt something different.”

  Louisa fought for a breath. “A breech baby? That’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily. As I said, the body knows what to do. An uncomplicated breech birth is no more dangerous that a regular one.”

  “I can’t stand lying down like this,” Louisa said fretfully. “I have to sit up.”

  “Then do so,” Julia said encouragingly. She took Louisa’s other hand. “As I said, a woman’s body knows what it’s doing. Hazel, help her ladyship sit up. We’re going to let gravity help this baby be born.”

  Chapter 37

  Randall stayed by the door, glad that the bedchamber was large enough that he didn’t have a clear view of the bed. He’d experienced more than his share of battlefields and the crude surgery that followed, but he’d never seen a more harrowing sight than Julia’s fearless, utterly calm battle to save Lady Daventry and her baby.

  Saving Daventry’s heir. The situation was fraught with irony, but he would contemplate that later. For now he concentrated on maintaining a stoic face and being ready if Julia needed him.

  Benjamin returned with the towels and a full bottle of brandy. Randall opened the bottle and set it and the towels on a table beside Julia. He was tempted to take a swig, but he guessed she meant to use the brandy to reduce the chance of infection, as when she’d operated on him. She barely noticed him as she spoke soothing words to the countess. Randall kept his eyes averted, feeling it was wrong to violate Lady Daventry’s privacy.

  He retreated to his position by the door. Benjamin was white-faced but calm. He must have seen a lot of life in a posting inn, and his mother had died in childbirth. He was a tough little fellow. But both of them flinched whenever Lady Daventry cried out.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be somewhere else? A birthing room is no place for men,” Randall said quietly. “The carriage can take you back to Ashton House.”

  Benjamin shook his head stubbornly. “I want to stay with you.”

  Randall nodded and draped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. Though this might be no place for males, he was selfishly glad for Benjamin’s company. The large posts of the bed blocked much of the scene, but Lady Daventry seemed to be kneeling, supported by Julia and the maid.

  The door downstairs opened again and footsteps pounded up the stairs. Had the society accoucheur finally arrived?

  Lord Daventry burst into the bedroom, his face haggard. “Hold on, Louisa, the physician will be here soon!”

  Then he saw Julia by the bed and stopped dead in his tracks. “You!” he said venomously. “Get away from my wife, you murderous bitch!”

  The countess screamed with blood-chilling force. Raging, Daventry started across the bedroom.

  Realizing why Julia had asked him to stay and be ready to help, Randall caught his uncle’s arm in a steely grip. “Stop right here!”

  Daventry’s head swiveled around and he gasped in shock to see his nephew. “I should have known you’d be here, too,” he snarled. “You’ve come to see that my heir dies, you and your devil-spawn wife! Well, you won’t succeed, damn you!” He tried to jerk his arm free.

  Randall’s grip held firm. “Show some sense!” he snapped. “Julia isn’t the midwife you would have chosen, but by a miracle, she’s here. You should go down on your knees and give thanks that we decided to call. If your wife and son survive, it will be because of her.”

  Raging, Daventry swung his free had in a savage strike at Randall’s face. Randall caught the other man’s wrist and twisted it to the point of excruciating pain. “If you want to help your wife, behave like a man, not a savage. And if you go near Julia, I will break your arm.”

  Shaking with fury, the earl spat, “You have no right to keep me from my wife!”

  Before Randall could respond, a cry sounded from the bed. This time it wasn’t a scream of agony from the countess, but the thin wail of a newborn infant. Daventry turned his attention to the bed. “Louisa?”

  Randall released his uncle and followed the man across the room, ready to stop him if he threatened Julia. They reached the bedside together as Julia crooned, “Splendidly done, Louisa! The worst is over and your pains have been rewarded.”

  As the maid helped the countess lie down, Julia patted the baby dry with a clean towel. The infant was bloody and rather small, but full of vigor and with an impressive set of lungs.

  “My son? My son is healthy?” Daventry croaked.

  “Congratulations, Lord Daventry.” Julia gave him a cool glance as she laid the infant in the crook of his wife’s left arm. “You have a beautiful, healthy daughter.” To Louisa, she said, “She needs your warmth and to hear your heartbeat, so hold her close.” The countess’s face was pale as snow, but she was radiant as she looked at her child.

  Daventry gasped, his gaze riveted on the infant, who was unquestionably female. “A daughter?”

  Randall caught his breath, stunned. He’d been convinced by Daventry’s certainty that this would be a boy. The earl’s breeding record had supported that, but as always, God got the last word. Once more, Randall was Daventry’s heir.

  The countess glared at her husband defiantly, her arm tightening around her baby. “I know you wanted a son, but I have always yearned for a daughter. I will name her Sophia. If you don’t want us, I’ll take Sophia away to some place where you won’t have to see either of us ever again.” It was a clear threat.

  Face working, Daventry reached out a shaking hand and touched the tiny toes on one perfect little foot. Sophia squeaked and pulled her foot away. There was awe on the earl’s face as he looked at his new child. “A daughter for Daventry,” he murmured. “It never occurred to me that I would have a daughter.”

  “In the nature of things, girls happen,” Julia said dryly. “You said once that you’d only bred sons, Lord Daventry, and perhaps that was the problem. I’ve known women who have seen all their male babies miscarry or die young, while the females thrived. Some weakness in the male seed, I think. Sophia might not be able to inherit your title, but your bloodline will survive.”

  Daventry brushed his wife’s hair with gossamer lightness, as if afraid she’d break. “Will Louisa be all right? She’s lost so much blood.”

  “The countess will be very weak a while, but she should be fine.” Julia turned to the basin to wash the blood from her hands. After her hands were clean and dry, she began rubbing the countess’s belly with gentle firmness. “Hazel, watch what I’m doing so you can do this. Rubbing helps the womb contract. That will reduce the chance of any bleeding. You’ll be able to feel the difference.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the maid said respectfully. “Anything you want me to do.”

  “You will visit us, won’t you?” Lady Daventry asked hopefully. “My husband won’t try to stop you. Will you, darling?” There was a definite edge to her final words.

  Sounding as if he’d rather have all his teeth yanked from his jaw than have to thank Julia for anything, Daventry said reluctantly. “No, I won’t. I suppose I must be grateful to you, Lady Julia.”

  Benjamin pressed close to Randall’s side, his eyes huge
and interested. Randall was bemused to think that tiny Sophia was his aunt.

  Reminded of why he and Julia were here in the first place, Randall said, “Your bloodline will have more than one stream to carry on, Daventry. Julia and I called today to introduce you to your grandson, Benjamin Thomas. Branford’s son, born a few months before Branford’s death.”

  Daventry hadn’t noticed Benjamin, but now his gaze dropped to the boy. “You want to foist this boy on me by claiming he’s my grandson?” he growled.

  His uncle’s continual suspicion and anger were damned tiresome. Randall said coolly, “There is no foisting involved. Benjamin is my foster son and his home is Roscombe Manor. He’ll start school at the Westerfield Academy in a week. He doesn’t need you, but Julia and I felt that you have a right to know your grandson.”

  “He looks like Branford,” the countess said drowsily. “But nicer. Hello, Benjamin. I’m your stepgrandmother. I have a son not much older than you.”

  For a long moment, Daventry studied Benjamin. His initial doubtful expression changed to intense scrutiny, then acceptance. “You do look like Branford. Just like when he was a boy.” The earl looked like a boxer who had received one punch too many to his head. He shook his head and managed a crooked smile. “I have unexpectedly acquired a daughter and a grandson on the same day.”

  “My mother was a barmaid, but she was more of a lady than you are a gentleman.” Benjamin scowled at the earl. “I don’t know if I want you for a grandfather. You’re mean and you yell at everyone.”

  Daventry’s surprise was so great that it took all of Randall’s control not to laugh out loud. The earl had met his match.

  “Yes, I do yell a lot, and sometimes I’ve been mean,” Daventry said seriously. “But since I seem to be your grandfather, we should get to know each other.”

  “It’s time everyone left,” Julia said firmly. “Lady Daventry needs her rest.”

  The door opened and a fashionably dressed man with a black bag swept in. “I came as quickly as I could, Lord Daventry,” he said, concerned. “How is the countess?”

  “The countess and her daughter are doing very well, Sir Richard.” Louisa covered her yawn. “Courtesy of my friend Julia, who is a midwife.”

  Sir Richard Croft’s nostrils flared as if he’d smelled something nasty. “A midwife delivered your child? You are fortunate to have had a good outcome.” He stared suspiciously at Julia. “Who is this woman?”

  “‘This woman’ is Lady Julia Randall, trained midwife and daughter of the Duke of Castleton,” Randall said, guessing that the society accoucheur was a snob.

  Julia recognized that, too. A wicked glint in her eyes, she said to Lady Daventry, “Rather than hire a wet nurse, Louisa, I suggest you nurse Sophia yourself. It’s better for the baby and better for you.”

  “Very well, if you say so,” Lady Daventry said obediently.

  Sir Richard looked horrified. “Ladies do not nurse their own children.”

  “Perhaps not,” Julia said. “But mothers do.” She bent and kissed the countess’s cheek. “Sleep well, Louisa. You’ve done a fine day’s work.”

  She straightened and swayed a little. Guessing that she was exhausted, Randall put his arm around her. “I’ll take my wife home now.”

  She leaned against him, looking gray. Under her breath, she said, “A good thing I haven’t eaten in hours.”

  If she felt unwell, the sooner he got her home, the better. She would hate vomiting in this company. He nodded to the group. “Congratulations on your new daughter, Lady Daventry. Rest well. Come along, Benjamin.”

  He and Julia and Benjamin were halfway to the door when Daventry said, “Wait. I’d like my…my grandson to stay this afternoon so we can get better acquainted.” When Randall hesitated, the earl said, “I’ll send him home before dinner.”

  “Benjamin, are you willing?” Randall asked.

  The boy shrugged. “I suppose.” But the spark in his eyes suggested he was pleased by his grandfather’s interest.

  “Very well. We’ll see you at dinner.” Randall escorted Julia downstairs and out of the house. The street was quiet enough that the Ashton carriage had been able to wait at the curb. How long had they been in the house? Less than two hours, he calculated. Once they were inside and heading back to Ashton House, he asked, “Feeling better?”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “I just needed fresh air.”

  “How serious was Lady Daventry’s condition?” he asked. “To an inexpert eye, the situation looked dire.”

  “Since I was there, all went smoothly,” Julia replied. “She was afraid because of her age, and fear is dangerous. Also…” she hesitated.

  “Also what?” he prompted.

  “It may be unfair to Sir Richard to say this, but if he’d been in attendance, matters might not have turned out as well,” she said reluctantly. “Males often prefer action to allowing nature a chance to do her job. Tugging at a breech baby can cause serious problems.”

  Under her measured words, he sensed that the delivery could have turned fatal very easily. “Lady Daventry is very lucky to have you as a friend.”

  “I was just doing what I was trained for. I hope Louisa does nurse the baby. It really is better for both of them.” Wearily she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad Benjamin was accepted by Daventry. He needs all the family and acceptance he can get.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Randall said wryly. “Since Ash and Mariah aren’t in London, let’s enjoy a nice quiet afternoon together in our rooms. You’d like a bath, I’m sure, and I’ll order up a luncheon.”

  Julia smiled. “Sounds lovely.”

  But the day was far from over. As he put his arm around her, he knew that the marital equation between him and Julia had changed.

  But he wasn’t sure just how.

  Chapter 38

  Julia’s blood-stained gown drew exclamation of shock when she and Randall entered Ashton House. While he ordered bath water and food to be delivered to their rooms, she glanced tiredly at the silver salver that held their mail.

  Beside the letters was a small package from Mr. Rose, the goldsmith. Guessing that it had been hand-delivered, she opened the package. Inside was a velvet box containing the ring she’d commissioned for Randall.

  She admired the twisting Celtic patterns, thinking that the ring was a good symbol for the complicated threads of their marriage. She closed the box and tucked it into her reticule, then took Randall’s arm and headed up the stairs.

  The hot water arrived in their rooms just after they did. Julia loved the efficiency of Ashton House.

  When the servants who’d brought the hot water were gone, Randall moved behind her to unfasten the ties of her gown. “Try not to fall asleep in the hip bath.”

  “No promises.” Even though Elsa was turning into a good maid, Julia liked the intimacy of Randall’s fingers brushing her nape and lower back. “Birthing babies is tiring work.” And never had it been so tiring as today. Julia must be out of practice.

  She moved behind the screen that concealed the gently steaming hip bath. Lady Kiri had created a special bath oil scented with the perfume she’d created for Julia, so Julia poured a few drops into the water. Every time she used the fragrance, she discovered new layers of complexity.

  With a happy sigh, she pinned up her hair, then stepped into the bath, enjoying the exquisite welcome of the hot water as she sank down. The tub was large enough for her to immerse herself up to her chin.

  Randall stepped around the screen. “Ash’s admirable cook heard that you just delivered Lady Daventry’s daughter, so she sent up a lovely concoction of chilled champagne and orange juice. I thought you’d like some.” He offered her a tall goblet of frothy orange drink. “To Lady Sophia. May she grow up with health and happiness.”

  “To Sophia.” Julia accepted the goblet and sipped the tart sweetness. “Mmm…sensual pleasure doesn’t get better than this.”

  He grinned wickedly. “Never?”
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  “Well, hardly ever.” Julia studied her husband with sultry pleasure. He’d taken off his coat and cravat and she loved the informal, bedroom intimacy of seeing him in his shirt sleeves.

  He said in a conversational tone, “If you don’t stop looking at me that way, you will find your bath cut short.”

  “I’ll be out soon.” She teasingly raised one leg out of the water, curving her foot like a dancer.

  “Not soon enough!” He bent and kissed her forehead, then trailed fingers down the inside of her leg.

  She gasped. “The water feels much warmer!”

  “Don’t stay in so long that anything cools,” he said meaningfully.

  She almost got out of the tub and followed him away, but there was no rush, and anticipation would make consummation all the more satisfying.

  Julia returned to luxuriating in the warm, perfumed water and the champagne and cool, tangy drink. She must get the recipe for it.

  Idly she glanced down at her breasts. The scars were mostly concealed by bath bubbles. Thanks to Randall, she was no longer repulsed by her body. She’d learn to accept that while the marks were ugly, they were part of her, and he didn’t find her repulsive at all.

  Julia sipped again, thinking that she was having a very good day. Benjamin had been accepted by both Lady Agnes and the Earl of Daventry, a beautiful baby had been safely delivered, and she could look forward to an afternoon of mutual seduction.

  Julia ran her free hand down her body. The bruises she’d received in the encounter with Crockett were turning interesting shades of yellow and green, but they didn’t hurt much. She noticed that her nipples were unusually sensitive. It must be time for her courses.

  No. She thought about the calendar and almost gasped aloud at the discrepancies she saw. There was only one likely reason.

  But that one was impossible.

  Yet when she looked at all the symptoms, the answer was the same. What should have been obvious had been covered up by her lack of belief, not to mention the considerable distractions of the last weeks.