“There appears to be some difficulty with the birth.”
Dorothea held herself perfectly still. “Is Gwendolyn in grave danger?”
Carter pressed his fingertips to his temple. “There’s always risk involved with childbirth.”
“This sounds like more than the usual risk.” Dorothea leaned forward intently. “Tell me.”
Carter sighed, clearly unnerved. “The doctor feared that your sister would not be able to safely deliver the child and wanted to intervene. But he needed Barrington’s permission. And he pressed him to make an impossible choice as to who would survive. His wife or his child.”
For an instant Carter’s handsome face blurred as a fresh wave of panic hit Dorothea. He reached out and caught her around the waist just before her wobbling legs threatened to give way. She clung to his neck, wishing it was all a horrible mistake, a bad dream from which she would soon awaken. But in her heart, she knew this was all too real.
“’Tis no wonder that Jason wanted to strike at the doctor.” Dorothea convulsed softly with a sob. “What can we do?”
“We must not give in to despair,” Carter insisted. “Gwen is still fighting. We must hope and pray that she and her child come through this safely.”
Dorothea nodded her head, wanting desperately to believe him. “Should we send for another doctor?”
“I suggested it, but Barrington said no. The midwife is experienced and your sister trusts her.” Carter’s voice was raw, but his expression was strong, comforting. “I believe it would aid Gwen greatly if you were with her. Do you think you can manage?”
Could she? Dorothea pressed a clenched fist to her stomach and choked back a sob. She had never been particularly helpful in a sickroom, having neither the temperament nor the constitution to aid her sisters or her aunt when they were feeling ill. But this was different. The stakes were dire. And if the worst, the unthinkable, were to happen…dear Lord, she could not allow Gwen to suffer alone.
Her stomach rioting with emotion, Dorothea released her grip from Carter’s arm and drew herself up an inch. “I’ll try.”
“Good girl.”
Carter’s obvious approval gave her fledgling courage a much-needed boost. Hand in hand they walked down the long hallway, coming to a halt in front of her sister’s bedchamber. Jason was huddled next to the closed door, his forehead pressed against the plaster wall. His jacket and cravat were missing, his waistcoat hung open, and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone.
It was nothing short of shocking to see her normally fastidious brother-in-law in such a disheveled state, but Dorothea barely spared him a glance, trusting Carter to see to him. All her strength and efforts had to be saved for Gwen.
Dorothea stood for a long moment in front of the door, struggling to find the courage to enter Gwen’s bedchamber, knowing she must appear calm and confident or else she would make matters worse. This was not the time to indulge in her fears and emotions; she had to be strong and positive. For Gwen. And Emma.
Somehow Dorothea managed to blink back her tears, straighten her spine, and reach for the doorknob. It was surprisingly calm and quiet as she entered the room. Two maids were stationed near the windows, speaking softly to each other. An older woman, who Dorothea assumed was the midwife, was standing at the foot of the four-poster bed, her hands on her hips.
There was no movement, no sounds from the figure swaddled beneath the blankets. A pain pressed against Dorothea’s breastbone. It was too quiet, too still. On trembling legs she approached the bed. The sound alerted the midwife, for she quickly turned, her face defensive.
“Who are you?”
Resisting the instinct to cringe, Dorothea lifted her chin and spoke in her most regal tone, invoking a fair imitation of her father-in-law, the duke. “I am the Marchioness of Atwood, Mrs. Barrington’s sister. I presume you are the midwife?”
“Yes, I’m Mrs. Johnson.”
Dorothea cocked her brow and continued to stare until the older woman dipped a hasty curtsy. Then she sailed majestically past her, directly to Gwen’s side. “How is my sister?”
“Tired,” the midwife replied with an edge in her voice. “This is hardly an appropriate time for a visit.”
“I am not here to socialize, I am here to help.” As if proving her words, Dorothea sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress and stroked Gwen’s cheek. Her sister did not move. “Why is she so still?”
“She’s fallen into an exhausted sleep, but it won’t last long.”
Fearfully, Dorothea snatched her hand away. “Then I shall let her rest while she can. I heard that there were some difficulties with the birth.”
“’Tis just taking a bit of time, that’s all. A common occurrence with a first baby.”
The midwife’s words should have offered comfort, but they did not, for she refused to meet Dorothea’s eyes when she spoke them.
“Kindly look at me, Mrs. Johnson,” Dorothea commanded. After casting several worried glances her way, the midwife finally complied. Her blank expression offered no reassurance. “My sister will deliver her baby, her babies, safely and quickly, is that understood?”
Dorothea knew she must sound utterly ridiculous, but it seemed desperately important to use every ounce of her will and determination to influence the outcome. Gwen would not lose her life giving birth to her children. She would not!
“Yes, my lady.”
“My brother-in-law believes you to be a highly qualified individual. Is he right, Mrs. Johnson?”
“Aye.” The midwife’s chest swelled with pride as she straightened her shoulders. “I’ve delivered more babes than I can count, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”
“Then I expect you to use every ounce of that hard-earned skill to save my sister and her infants. She is more precious to me than I can adequately say.”
The lingering resentment in Mrs. Johnson’s eyes turned to sympathetic kindness. “I’ll do all that I can, I promise you.”
Dorothea smiled faintly. “Good. And I shall help.”
At that moment, Gwen moaned. Her body restlessly twisted from side to side as though it were trying to avoid the pain and then suddenly she arched forward. The bedcovers flew off her body. Startled, Dorothea jumped from the bed.
“What’s happening?” Gwen screeched.
Mrs. Johnson pushed past Dorothea to get to Gwen. She spoke to Gwen in a low, hushed voice, then motioned for Dorothea to come near.
“Is it really you, Dorothea?” Gwen asked in a reedy tone.
Dorothea swallowed hard, searching for a calm voice. Gwen’s eyes were enormous in her pale face, which was etched with pain and fatigue. “Yes, it’s me.” She bent near the pillow and stroked Gwen’s forehead.
The gesture appeared to calm the laboring woman. “I’m glad. It’s hard being alone. I know that Jason is near to coming out of his skin because he wants to be with me, but truly, Dorothea, I cannot bear to have him here right now.”
“Shh, don’t worry about him. Jason understands. Birthing is women’s business.” Dorothea attempted a smile. “Carter came along, so I put him in charge of your husband. No doubt they are swilling brandy together at this very moment.”
A tear slid down Gwendolyn’s cheek. “I’m so tired, Dorothea. So very tired.”
“I know, Gwen.” She wrung the water from the cloth in the bedside basin and ran the damp linen over Gwen’s brow. “I’ve just had a nice chat with Mrs. Johnson and we are in agreement. You will deliver these babies very soon. There are two?”
Gwen began nodding, then her head suddenly stilled and she gripped her belly with both hands. Dorothea felt a chill of pure fright wrap around her heart as the searing pain paralyzed her sister. Mrs. Johnson quickly appeared. She instructed Dorothea to prop several pillows behind Gwen’s back and hold her hands tightly.
And thus the long vigil began. The minutes slid into hours. At one point the maids began lighting the candles and Dorothea realized night was approaching. And still Gwen
dolyn screamed and panted and labored to deliver her babies.
Knowing bravado was needed, Dorothea kept up a steady stream of encouragement. At times she doubted Gwen could even hear her, but she continued to speak, rattling off happy stories from their childhood, recalling fond memories of their parents.
It was loud and messy and monstrously frightening but the miracle of life would not be denied and, with her ebbing strength, Gwen at last pushed her children into the world.
“A boy and a girl. Fancy that,” Mrs. Johnson muttered as she washed the afterbirth from the scrawny bodies of the protesting infants.
“Are they all right?” Gwen whispered.
Dorothea turned and craned her neck. “I can see their arms waving and their legs moving,” she reported with a lopsided grin. Never had she felt such a giddy sense of relief.
The bedchamber door opened. Dorothea fully expected to see her brother-in-law, but instead Emma hovered hesitantly in the doorway, her eyes blinking uncertainly. “I thought I heard…oh, dear, the baby has arrived!” Emma’s joyful expression quickly turned to puzzlement. “Two babies?”
Dorothea puffed out her cheeks. “You know our Gwen. She never does anything in half-measures.”
The midwife and her assistant brought the babies to the bed. Dorothea and Emma eagerly crowded close to get a proper look.
“Would you like to hold them?” Mrs. Johnson asked Gwendolyn. “I need to go and find your husband and tell him the good news.”
Gwen shook her head. “I fear my arms are too weak right now. Give them to my sisters instead.”
Emma squealed with delight and reached out with both arms for the nearest babe, but Dorothea hesitated. Without waiting for her consent, Mrs. Johnson laid a swaddled bundle into Dorothea’s arms. The infant nestled quietly for a few moments, then suddenly arched its back and turned its head in a frantic attempt to find her breast.
“Ah, this must be your son,” Dorothea said with a smile.
She placed the knuckle of her little finger near the babe’s mouth and he greedily latched on, sucking furiously. Meanwhile, the baby girl in Emma’s arms slept quietly and contentedly.
Jason entered the room, barreling past the maids clustered near the bed. Mrs. Johnson followed behind him. “Is she all right?” he asked the midwife. “Truly?”
“She is exhausted and jubilant, as only a new mother can be,” Mrs. Johnson remarked as she gathered a pile of soiled linens and pressed them on one of the maids.
“But she will recover, will she not? You told me she would recover,” Jason insisted, his voice rising.
“Do not carry on so, my love,” Gwendolyn scolded in a tired voice. “You will frighten our children.”
At the sound of Gwendolyn’s voice, Jason froze. His eyes darted worriedly down to his wife. Dorothea could see his throat move as he swallowed, struggling to compose himself.
“Come, Jason, and greet your son and daughter,” Dorothea said merrily, hoping to lighten the somber mood.
Her brother-in-law glanced toward the infants, his expression distracted. “In a moment.” He sat on the edge of Gwendolyn’s bed, then gently gathered her into his arms. He held her thus for a long time before Dorothea noticed his shoulders were shaking. With a start, she realized he was crying.
Turning away from the intimate moment, she walked near the window, the baby snuggled happily in her arms. Emma did the same. In unison, the new aunts began rocking to and fro, delighted to discover the babies liked it.
“Forgive the interruption.”
Dorothea tore her gaze away from the baby and found Carter standing in front of her. “You are not interrupting,” Dorothea bustled. “This is a family moment we are all thrilled to be sharing. Gwendolyn has safely delivered her babies. Look, this is her son.”
She angled her arms and raised the baby so Carter could get a good view of the child. His expression turned curious. She smiled encouragingly and he inched forward, touching his finger to the baby’s hand. At the contact, the infant’s perfectly formed fingers curled around it.
“He’s very small,” Carter whispered.
“And red and wrinkled and sporting tufts of dark hair on his head,” she whispered back before kissing the baby’s forehead. “One would think with two such attractive parents he would look far less like a little troll.”
Carter smiled. “An apt description, I’m afraid.”
Dorothea nodded. “I vow our children will be much prettier, though I would never say so in front of my sisters.”
It gave Dorothea a warm, tingly feeling to be speaking of children. After seeing the hell Gwendolyn had endured, she was hardly anxious to experience it herself, but holding the precious bundle of life was slowly changing her mind. Here was something filled with promise and possibilities. The reward was honestly worth the price.
Suddenly the baby stiffened his torso, screwed up his face, and let out a loud, lusty wail. The noise startled his sister and she joined in with a distinct squalling of her own.
“I think they want their mama,” Emma said nervously. She scurried to the bed and handed the infant into Gwen’s waiting arms.
“And their papa, too,” Dorothea added. Before Jason had a chance to say anything, she tucked the noisy bundle into his arms.
His startled look of panic was comical. The bedchamber door opened again and Jason’s brother, Lord Fairhurst, entered the room. His resemblance to Jason was nothing short of remarkable, for they too were twins.
“I thought I heard a familiar sound,” Lord Fairhurst said as he drew near. His expression grew wistful when he saw the babies and Dorothea imagined he was thinking of his own child born earlier in the year.
“I’m a father,” Jason announced in a slightly dazed voice.
“Two at once, heh.” Lord Fairhurst chuckled. “Excellent job, Gwendolyn. My heartiest congratulations to you both.”
They all spent a few more minutes fussing over the infants before the babies began crying again.
“I think it’s best if we leave the new parents alone,” Carter said. He set one hand on Dorothea’s shoulder and the other on Emma’s and urged them out of the room. “There will be plenty of time to admire the new arrivals in the morning.”
Once in the hallway, Emma hugged Dorothea tightly, then declared she was off to bed. Lord Fairhurst announced he would wait to see his brother again before retiring. As they walked toward the bedchamber that had been hastily prepared for them, Carter and Dorothea were met by the butler, who inquired if they were in need of anything.
“Please have a tray of food sent to our room,” Carter requested. “I’ve already eaten, but Lady Atwood has not.”
The exhaustion hit Dorothea full force once they entered the bedchamber. She dismissed the maid and allowed Carter to help her into a white linen nightgown packed in her trunk. By the time the food arrived, she was yawning repeatedly.
“I’m too exhausted to eat,” Dorothea declared when Carter tried to tempt her with a piece of roasted chicken. “All I want is a warm, comfortable bed.”
To prove her point, Dorothea climbed into the four-poster bed, snuggling beneath the blankets. She heard Carter rustle about the room as he disrobed. Then he slid beneath the covers and tucked himself close to her. Dorothea sighed with contentment and wrapped herself in his arms, settling into the perfect position. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come, and then suddenly her stomach growled loudly.
She felt Carter’s hand lightly stroke the lower half of her arm. “You should eat something,” he said. “It will make you feel better.”
Shaking her head, she turned and nibbled on his broad chest. “I’m too tired to eat.”
“Hmm. I could say something appallingly crude, but I will restrain myself.”
“I appreciate it.”
She set her lips to the hollow of his throat and placed a warm, wet kiss in that delectable spot. “I thought you were exhausted,” he whispered.
She silenced him with another kiss, this one o
n the lips. Pressing herself closer, Dorothea felt an aching twist of desire settle over her. Carter reached down and drew her knee up, then positioned her on her side, facing him.
She could see the raw desire in his eyes, but it was mixed with tenderness. Dorothea sighed. He did care for her. The knowledge gave her hope that one day his heart would open completely and he would come to love her as much as she loved him.
The thought fueled the excitement in her breast. Her exhaustion disappeared as passion curled and knotted within her. Dorothea could not keep still. Her hands roved sensually over Carter’s naked shoulders and chest, his muscles rippling beneath her fingers.
Wantonly she molded herself closer, raising her nightgown so she could savor the hard, hot feel of his body against her flesh. Twining her arms around his neck, she leaned in and whispered, “May I have a kiss?”
She didn’t need to ask twice. His mouth descended, his lips clinging to hers with frantic desire. It seemed as if all the passion he held within had finally burst and come flooding out.
She moaned in his mouth and leveraged herself up, brushing her breast against the edge of his jaw. Breaking their kiss, he impatiently shoved her nightgown out of the way, seizing the budding nipple between his lips. His tongue circled the delicate peak languidly, then he pulled it into his mouth, sucking hard.
Desire, hot and heavy, spiraled through her body. She reached down, fumbling between their bodies until she found her prize, the thick, stiff shaft of his penis. Lovingly she caressed the satiny hardness, then reached lower, delving into the springy tufts of hair covering his heavy testicles.
“I want you now,” she whispered in his ear, rubbing herself suggestively against him. “Please?”
Dorothea rolled onto her back and drew up her knees. Carter grinned and crawled over her. Eyes locked, he entered her swiftly, forcefully. The room echoed with her sharp exhalation.
“Christ. Did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” she choked. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s wonderful.”
How To Seduce A Sinner Page 26
