by Stacy Reid
The woman standing before him was cloaked in icy sternness, which he doubted he would be able to ever pierce. Nothing glowed in her eyes, none of the warmth, the passion, the love he had seen before. Nothing remained of the kind, generous lady she had been, and he had been the one to reduce her to this…marble effigy of her former self. Sudden, fierce pride burned in his veins, and he smiled in amused self-mockery. He was so proud his duchess was not weeping and rushing into his arms. With an effort that was almost painful he prevented himself from going to her and drawing her into his arms.
He’d rehearsed dozens of speeches, explanations, yet none of it truly mattered now. He’d hurt this woman whom he had vowed to protect and cherish, and he truly had no notion how to atone. “Adeline, have you ever wanted something very badly, something that was within your grasp, and you only needed the courage to reach for it?” he asked, raking his fingers though his hair.
Her eyes widened, and he witnessed the hope that flared before she buried it once more. Her eyes darkened momentarily then cleared. “Yes,” she said.
“That is how I feel about you. You are everything I’d ever dreamed of and more, and I have been so afraid that I will lose you, but I have come to my senses.”
A loud exhalation puffed from her lips.
The silence was thick and heavy. She closed the door softly, shutting out their hopeful audience and leaned against it. “I truly despaired of you ever wanting us,” she said, resting her hands on her stomach. Her eyes were somber in their depths, and the sadness pierced him.
“The workers arrived before I left. I understand from them that you are making nurseries in all of your estates.”
“Our estates.”
A fleeting smile tugged at her lips. “I fear…I fear that when I need you Edmond, you will not be here. I fear each time I swell with our child you will pull away from me.”
“I will never leave your side again. I’m so damned sorry, Duchess. I do not deserve you, nor do I expect you to forgive me. I can only pray your generosity and kindness can extend to me and forgive me for being absent. Even when everything inside me really wanted to be here, I fought against it for fear of losing you, because I love you with everything that I am, Adeline,” he said gruffly.
A slow smile stretched across her face. Tender feelings assailed Edmond, holding him spellbound.
“I missed you,” she said.
“And I missed you, Adeline.”
She patted her distended stomach. “Our son or daughter is very active today.”
His throat closed. “How are you feeling?”
His duchess smiled tenderly, and then cocked her head sideways as if pondering a deep matter. “I never knew you carved.”
He glanced down at his tools, the lion he had been carving, then slowly rose to his feet. Everything seemed so tentative, and he felt so damn unsure. “I do.”
She nodded and met him in the center of the room. Adeline clasped his hands and glided her fingers over the coarseness of his thumb. Her eyes lifted to his. “They are scarred.” Then she kissed the small cuts on his fingers.
His throat tightened. “Forgive me, Adeline.”
Her lips twitched, and he held his breath waiting for the sweet curve he found himself missing daily. Disappointment lanced through him when the promised smile failed to appear.
“I do.”
He drew her to him, clasping her cheeks to press a firm kiss to her lips. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Her breasts were much heavier, her thighs and hips had a more pronounced curves, but it was her high rounded belly that held all his attention. He lowered his hands to her stomach, tracing the swell. “You are beyond exquisite,” he whispered.
The reserve in her gaze melted, and her eyes glowed with a brilliance that made him want to fall at her knees in thankfulness that she still loved him. She did not say it, nor did he press her for the words, but he knew, for he similarly adored everything about her. Her courage in the face of his past coldness had kept her strong with her natural intelligence and her unfailing love and kindness.
He stroked his palm down her spine, from her hips around to her rounded stomach. She stilled, breathing softly. There was a ripple under his palm, and a soft laugh puffed from her.
“That is our baby.” Her voice was rife with awe.
Our baby.
And he felt no fear. Edmond cradled her cheeks and kissed her with a desperate passion. She parted her lips and returned his kiss with equal fervour. He wanted the kiss to never end, and more than anything he craved sentiments from his duchess. “Love me, Adeline,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth.
“Can you doubt it?” she gasped.
His chest vibrated with a groan. “No…I truly cannot.”
“I love you utterly and completely, Edmond, and I feel I have waited all my life for you.” Adeline pressed a kiss to his chest right above his beating heart. “I love you with all my heart, and I thank God every day that I accidentally compromised you.”
Edmond felt as though the ground shifted around him, and everything that had been wrong settled back in its right place. She still loved him, and he would endeavor never to lose that love. “Losing your love would destroy me. Never stop loving me, Adeline.”
“Never,” she vowed, tipping to kiss the corner of his lips.
For the first time since Edmond could remember, he felt whole.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Adeline’s shoulders shook with mirth, and with a gasp she wiped tears from her eyes. Edmond was playing a game of charade on the lawn with the girls, and Adel reclined on a chaise longue which the footmen had carried outside for her pleasure, watching them. She was unable to join the game, so she could only make herself comfortable on the chaise, which had been padded especially for her. Today was a rare sunny day, which she had been determined to take advantage of.
Edmond did another hop on his foot and scratched the underside of his arms. Her love looked ridiculous. He was trying to pantomime a monkey, and Sarah should be the one guessing. So far she had put forth several suggestions, the entire time giggling.
Adel reached for the pitcher of water placed on the table to her left, and a sharp pain tore through her back. She drew back her arms, and waited for the sensation to reappear. There was nothing. She had three of the best doctors in England attending her and two local midwives who had come with fulsome references from a number of the ladies who lived close to Rosette Park. It was a concession she had been prepared to give Edmond, for she had no notions of what to expect from the birthing bed.
She had woken in the dark of the night several times to find him seated in an armchair in their chambers watching her, a silent protective force. But her duke had yet to understand that he could not control everything.
He had moved her into his chambers, and on more than one night the torment of nightmares had woken him, but it had been her name he called.
Then he would reach for her, hold her into his arms, rub her stomach as their baby kicked within her.
She slowly struggled to sit and slipped her feet over the edge of the couch. Her back was sore, and she felt she had been in the same position for far too long.
She gingerly stood and stretched.
“Adeline,” Edmond said walking over. “Are you well?”
She smiled in reassurance. “I am quite fine, but I do think it might be prudent to stretch my legs a bit across the lawns.” Then she stepped towards him.
Horror chased his features, and he lunged for her. It was as her body made the impact on the hard ground, she realized he had been trying to break her fall. She tried to tell him not to worry, but darkness took her mind under.
…
He had failed to keep her safe. The terror winding itself through Edmond’s soul was so cold his teeth chattered. When Adeline had fainted, she had hit the ground with an impact that had shriveled his soul. He had only been a fingertip away from reaching her. Why had he allowed her to be out? She was more than
eight months pregnant, and had been indoors for days. He’d seen her restlessness and acted, trying to brighten her day. Now he could lose her.
“Papa.” A small hand gripped his. He glanced down into Rosa’s scared face.
He stooped to her level and drew her close. “Yes, pumpkin?”
“Is A-Adeline going to heaven like Mamma?”
Cold sweat slicked down his back beneath his jacket, and for precious seconds Edmond could not utter a single word. “No.”
His daughter searched his eyes frantically and whatever she saw reassured her, for she wilted against him and hugged his neck tightly.
After a moment she spoke, “Do you promise, Papa? Do you promise to save her?”
His damn heart was ripping from his chest. Then he realized what a truly selfish fool he had been. It was not only he who feared loving and losing again. His daughters had fallen in love with Adeline, as surely and deeply as he had. For them it would be just as painful or even more, losing the love, the gentle and the unending support of two mothers.
“Papa, you’re squeezing me too tight.”
Hell. He’d not even realized.
“I promise you, pumpkin, I will not let him take her.”
She rustled in his arms.
“Who, Papa?”
“The devil.”
Rosa eyes widened. “I think it is God you should be talking to, Papa. Mrs. Fields says never bargain with the devil.”
He kissed her cheek. “Go with Miss Thompson to the music room. Play all of Adeline’s favorite songs. I am sure she will love that.”
His daughters nodded and then scampered away with the governess waiting by the doorway.
Edmond stood as an anguished wail sliced through the room. Without hesitation he climbed the stairs and entered his chambers. The slight tang of blood reached him instantly. He waded through the darkness of memory and approached the bed. The first doctor to arrive to his urgent summons had been Dr. Greaves. He and the midwife’s heads were bowed closely together, and their furious whispering caused agitation to surge through Edmond’s blood.
With a force of willpower, he pushed his doubts and panic aside and concentrated on his duchess.
A smile tugged at his lips when she scowled at him fiercely. “What are you doing in here? I told you to go and be with the girls.”
He heard it. Her fear. The crippling unseen power, which had the teeth to render both him and his duchess powerless. “Hush now, nothing you say will remove me from your side.”
Despite the pain, pleasure lit her eyes. “Edmond,” she whispered his name.
The doctor glanced up, and he walked to Edmond. “May we speak alone, Your Grace?”
“No,” Adeline said as she struggled to sit. “Whatever you wish to say, Edmond and I will face it together.”
“Your Grace, I…I…the duchess is weakened and the babies are not coming.”
“Speak out, man.”
The doctor frowned toward the bed.
“Her Grace has had some minor but very worrying convulsions. Before her fall, your wife had been progressing quite nicely, and I did not predict any complications. Now her limbs are swollen and the babies have not turned.”
The room swam. “Babies?”
The midwife, Mrs. Agnes, stepped forward, her brown eyes warm and confident. “Babies, Your Grace. From what I can feel, one is already on the way, but he is in breech position. So he may need to be turned…but there is another baby above him.”
Edmond checked to see that everything was how he’d ordered it to be. Dozens of jugs with boiled water. Carbolic soap laid out on several clean towels. The fire kept at minimum, so the room was not stifling, and the sheets were fresh cleaned. Several doctors he’d spoke with had insisted it was important that hand washing and general cleanliness was the first order of the day. Beautiful baby clothes had been arranged together with fresh clean towels and bedding.
“Edmond.”
He strolled over to his duchess and laced their fingers tightly.
Fierce eyes clashed with his. “I am ready to throw both of them from my room. They tell me nothing, and their silence is not soothing to my nerves,” she gritted through clenched teeth.
Her anger filled him with mystifying hope. She was not weeping and muttering that all was lost before hearing their assessment. It gave him some reassurance that maybe she would fight with every breath in her body.
“We are having two babies.”
Her eyes widened, and she struggled to sit. The midwife rushed over and aided him in placing well-padded pillows behind her back. At that moment a contraction seized her, and she crushed his hand.
Sweat ran in rivulets down her hairline. Then she smiled at him, and the fear he saw in her gaze almost rendered him insensible. He despaired that she would feel such an emotion. He wanted to rage, and take every pain she felt and be able to give her comfort and love.
“Tell me,” she hissed. Her lower lip trembled, then with a willpower he admired, she flattened her lips, and determination glowed from her eyes. “Am I dying?”
Edmond cursed, low and dark in the quiet room.
The doctor sighed and came over. “There is a possibility, Your Grace, that—”
“Hold your damned tongue,” Edmond snapped, unable to contain the cold fury slicing through his veins.
He faced his love. “I have spent months scouring books, interviewing doctors on all matters relating to childbirth. The risk, the precautions that might improve the outcome, I was almost mindless in my obsession, and I questioned myself why I should bother to study the subject. Maryann had already died, so why would I ever need the information. But God knew he intended to give me you. A hope for a future…of love and peace, and he prepared me to help you in every way possible with our children. I didn’t know it then, but I damn well know it now, and if you utter another word or thought about dying…” His throat worked, trapping the roar of denial building in his chest.
“Edmond,” she said softly. “I will not perish…not today.”
He kissed her wet cheeks, running his hands over her shaking shoulders, trying to comfort her. “I know, for the strength of your spirit is unquenchable. Together we will ensure our babes come safely into the world. I believe you will hold them in your arms. I, madam, would be but a shadow without you.”
A watery smile crossed her lips, and a small sob hiccupped from her. “Does this mean, Your Grace, you will stay with me?”
“Nothing will pry me from this room.”
Her forehead dropped onto his, her sweat dampening his hairline. “I will not leave you…at least not for another forty years or more.”
“Not yet,” he echoed. “Neither in this lifetime nor in the next.”
Then they faced the demon that had haunted him for far too long.
Epilogue
EIGHT MONTHS LATER…
“You have a wonderful family,” Westfall murmured with something akin to envy in his tone.
Edmond moved even closer to the open window in his library, not wanting to miss a second of their delightful romping. His duchess reposed on a blanket with their very active eight months old sons, Jordon Alexander Rochester, the Marquess of Carlyle, and Drake St. John Rochester, crawling over her and cooing. Love swelled in Edmond’s chest when his wife chortled and did that very ridiculous talk to the babies that she swore they understood.
Life indeed had been wonderful to him and Adeline. After the birth of their boys, within a couple of weeks his duchess had been back to her exuberant self, refusing to stay abed. Then when he had been hesitant about making love too soon, his duchess had seduced him with shocking sensuality, over and over. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she were to tell him soon that she was once again with child, because of how often they were wrapped together in passion.
“I think it’s time we joined them,” Edmond said.
Westfall frowned, canting his head left and Edmond knew who he searched for. Lady Evelyn.
“You cannot
avoid her forever,” Edmond said with some amusement. “You are both godparents to Jordon and Drake. I daresay there will be many occasions where yours and Lady Evelyn’s paths will cross.”
Westfall grunted. “Thank you for inviting little Emily to play with Rosa and Sarah.”
There was a throb of emotions in Westfall tone and Edmond consider him. “The circumstances of her birth does not matter to me or my duchess. Your daughter is my daughter, and she will always have my support.”
Tawny golden eyes met Edmond’s, and then with a small smile Westfall clasped his shoulders.
“Thank you, my friend.”
They exited the library and made their way outside. Edmond walked slightly ahead, his heart light, wanting to be in the presence of his wife and children. Rosalie saw him and with a shriek she barreled in his direction. Sarah followed, and then he had his hands full with hugging his girls. Adeline waved, a wide grin splitting her face.
Westfall’s six-year-old daughter, little Emily—who was a replica of him with her dark hair and golden eyes—ran into the marquess’s arms. Holding their girls, they walked over to the several blankets spread on the lawn. Edmond lowered himself by his duchess and planted a firm kiss on her lips.
“Eweeee!” Rosa shrieked, and Emily and Sarah giggled.
Adeline’s answering laughter tinkled like bells, and the love glowing in her eyes made Edmond’s chest squeeze. “I love you, Adeline.”
“And I you, Edmond.”
Then he reached for his sons, who stared at him already with piercing intelligence. They had stunning hazel eyes like their mother, the only thing they seemed to share with Adeline. Then under the incredulous gaze of Westfall, Edmond proceeded to have a rousing conversation with his sons, who stared at him enraptured. He was as certain as his duchess that somehow from their kicking legs and gleeful chortling, they understood.
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Author’s Note
I took the liberty of naming my own numbers in relation to the death rate in the Regency era. In truth, there was really no way at the time to be certain of the amount of childbirth death recorded in England because there were no well document records. It was in 1837, the Registrar General’s office started to record maternal deaths. This was also encouraged by the Presidents of the Royal Colleges and the Master of the Society of Apothecaries, and people were urged to supply voluntarily copies of certificates of death, if possible with cause. It was not until about 1870, when the registration of cause of death was made mandatory, that rates became reasonably accurate.
