Ransom opened the letter, read through it, and dropped his hand to his side silently. He looked stunned.
“Well? What is it?”
Ransom handed the single sheet to his friend, who promptly read it. “Imagine her letting you know about Catherine.”
Ransom nodded. Catherine was safe in England. According to Sabrina, she would be staying with his parents until the end of February. Whatever for? he wondered. If Catherine was so set on avoiding him, why had she and his parents connected?
“I wonder why Catherine is with your parents?” Holden asked. “And what is so important about February? Sabrina mentions it twice.”
Ransom frowned as he wondered the same. There was something cryptic about this note. Something he felt he should understand.
A small thought crept into Ransom’s mind. It began to take shape and grow. There must be something that could motivate Catherine to swallow her pride. A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Let’s hope the General is on time,” Ransom stated. He looked at Holden’s questioning face and laughed. “I suddenly have a great desire to see England.”
Chapter Twenty Three
* * *
Snuggling beneath a quilt, Catherine sat in the parlor before the hearth as a winter storm that had swept in off the coast continued to rage. She and Margaret were working on more garments for the coming child.
Catherine enjoyed every moment she shared with this warm and loving family. Sometimes, when she was alone, she wondered if she and Ransom might have shared the same closeness if things had been different. Margaret was not only a gracious hostess, she was a loving mother.
Unaware of any other siblings, Catherine met the rest of them at Christmas. At first, she tried to beg off, but neither Margaret nor Phillip would allow it. To her delight, the family accepted her with no more than minimal introductions to the three other Kent children and their spouses.
Amanda, the youngest, had wed recently and bemoaned Ransom’s absence at her nuptials. Elaine defended her brother’s decision to leave England. She announced she enjoyed her freedom without him about, especially since she had moved in with her other brother and his wife. They, in turn, gave the family a special gift by announcing a child would be born to them in the spring.
The moment could have been awkward, but Phillip Kent congratulated his son, Michael, and his wife with enough enthusiasm to please his children. The conversation soon turned to Melanie’s expected due date. Shyly, she reported some time in May. Catherine almost laughed when Phillip looked at her and winked.
She never asked if any of them knew about her and Ransom, but assumed they did not when no comment was made about her pending delivery. Only when the family dispersed did Michael hold her back to give her an unexpected hug.
“My brother is known for being dense at times,” he grinned, “but he is not daft. Sooner or later he will come to claim you, Catherine. You are too great a prize to pass up.”
She blushed profusely, but felt a glimmer of hope.
Now, almost a month later, she learned they all knew from the beginning, but were too gracious to make her feel awkward. She smiled at Margaret, whom she had reasoned was responsible for her children’s kindnesses.
“What is tickling your fancy?” Margaret asked, holding up a tiny gown for inspection.
“I was thinking of Christmas,” Catherine replied. “I was so scared to meet your other children.”
“They have been known to frighten stouter hearts than yours,” Margaret laughed. “Why, I remember one summer when Ransom and—” Catherine’s smile faded. “I am sorry, my dear,” she offered with a sigh. “But you cannot expect never to hear his name, especially not here.”
“I know, Margaret. It is just that . . . the closer the time comes, the more I seem to think of him.”
“And those nights when you first arrived, what was the reason then?”
Catherine laughed sadly. “Have I been so transparent?”
“I am afraid so, my dear, but I assure you, all of us love you for it.” She resumed her sewing when Catherine’s eyes widened and she gasped. “What is it, child?” Margaret asked, quickly gaining her feet to rush to Catherine.
“I . . . I do not know,” Catherine replied breathlessly. “I guess . . . it is just a catch.”
Margaret frowned. “Are you sure you are due next month?”
“Yes, I think so.” She mentally calculated backward to the time she and Ransom first shared a bed. She nodded. “It has to be next month.”
“All right, dear,” Margaret soothed, patting her shoulder. “But should this occur again, I want you to tell me. Women have been known to go into labor early, and we do not want to take any chances.” Catherine nodded, pleased she was in such experienced hands. “Good. Now I want you to go upstairs and rest. You have been doing quite a bit lately. Perhaps that is what has caused this . . . catch.”
Catherine let Margaret help her out of the chair and up the stairs. She wondered if she should mention the low back aches she had been experiencing all day, but decided it was simply the result of her burden and being confined to the house because of the storm. She opted to let it go. Should it continue, she would tell Margaret.
“Thank you,” Catherine sighed as Margaret drew a quilt over her. She heard her tell the maid to build the fire higher, clearly wanting her as comfortable as possible. “I will be fine, Margaret,” she smiled sleepily. “Don’t worry.”
The maid was ushered out once they were certain all was as well as it could be. Margaret returned her smile. “I will check on you in a few hours. Perhaps you would like to come down then and help me decide what we should make next for the baby.” Before she finished, Catherine stifled a yawn. “Rest well, child,” Margaret whispered as she closed the door.
* * *
Catherine was yanked from sleep as a tightness gripped her swollen stomach. Not unbearable, it did manage to take her breath away for a moment. As it passed, she sighed heavily and relaxed.
“Are you getting anxious, my son?” she asked as she rubbed the tight skin stretched over her child. “I think you will be just like your father.” For this moment she let herself think of Ransom. A smile touched her lips as she thought of him.
Her memories went to the first time she lay with him—then to the times that followed. He taught her well about desire and passion. Should she live to a ripe old age, she didn’t think there would be another man to whom she could give her heart, or her body, the way she had to Ransom.
Another spasm began, but this one seemed stronger. Perhaps she should ring for someone. She attempted to sit up, but fell back to clutch her arms about herself with a gasp. Something was definitely happening. She bit her lips and gazed at the bell pull across the room. Had she waited too long to seek help?
The pain passed. She waited to see if it would return, but there was no reoccurrence. Satisfied there would be no need to seek help after all, Catherine rose awkwardly and made her way to the wash stand. It wouldn’t be long until dinner was served so she began her grooming. Convinced the episodes were behind her, she donned one of the gowns Margaret ordered let out to accommodate her.
On her way to the door, she tied ribbons beneath her fuller breasts, completing her costume. As she stepped into the hall it began again, but this was something new. The tightening started much lower and seemed to be wrenching her apart.
She grabbed for the doorframe in an attempt to stay on her feet. A warmth spread down her legs and she gazed in awe at the puddle forming at her feet as the pain passed.
“Oh, God,” she sighed fearfully. No sooner did she utter the words than she looked up to see Margaret racing toward her. “I think it is time,” she stated calmly.
Margaret had obviously come to the same conclusion. “Just relax, dear,” she said gently. “This is only the beginning of a long night.”
Hours passed and Catherine wondered if her delivery might go beyond the night into the next day. She was alternately
racked with extreme pain and exhaustion. Margaret stayed at her side, whispering encouragements while bathing the moisture from her body. A doctor had been sent for, but the raging storm delayed his arrival.
Unfortunately, the storm did not delay the arrival of Catherine’s child. And the thunder, in fact, seemed to keep a rhythm matched to her contractions.
Margaret shook her head. “It is all right to cry out, my dear. You do not have to hold it back.”
“N-no,” Catherine panted. “I . . . I do not want m-my son to think his mother is . . . is a coward. I c-can bear—Oohhh!”
“M’lady!” the maid called out. “I can see most of ‘is ‘ead! It’s time.”
“Catherine, listen to me,” Margaret ordered sternly. She placed Catherine’s hands about the bedposts. “I want you to push just as hard as you can with the next pain. Do you understand?”
The pain started to build. Catherine pressed her heels into the mattress and arched her back right off the bed. She wanted to reply to Margaret’s demand, but she could not afford to expend the energy. Instead, she began to bear down.
“That’s it, Miss!” the maid announced. “One more time now.”
“Ransom!” Catherine screamed as she pushed with the last of her strength.
Tears filled Margaret’s eyes as the young maid forced to play midwife eased the child from Catherine’s body. Once the head was free, the rest slipped out quickly.
“Oh, my dear child,” Margaret sighed as the newborn squeaked its first sounds. “You have a fine, healthy son.”
* * *
Catherine struggled to keep her eyes open. The effort was rewarded when Phillip and Margaret entered. The look of love and pride on their faces brought tears to her eyes, especially when she saw them gaze down at her son.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” she asked softly, brushing gently at the black curls on his head.
“He is perfect, child,” Phillip replied, his voice catching in his throat. “You have done very well.” He took her hand as he sat down beside her. “Ransom would be very proud of both of you.”
Margaret winced, but Catherine only continued to smile down at her son. “He would be pleased with such a fine son, I think.” Her fatigue was beginning to get the best of her. “But I did what I had to do.”
Margaret lifted the small bundle from Catherine’s arms, and handed him gently to the maid. “You get some rest, dear. He is going to want to eat soon and you will need your strength.” She leaned to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, my dear,” she said gently.
Phillip followed suit, but he paused to take her chin in his hand. “You have given the Kent family its next generation, and I am forever in your debt, Catherine.”
If Catherine had any argument, she was too weary to make it. Her eyes closed before the Kents left her bedside. In her mind, she knew she would have to tell them she and the child could not stay. But that would have to wait. She needed to rest.
* * *
Catherine didn’t think she would ever get used to the marvelous sensations of feeding her child. As his rosebud mouth suckled hungrily, she felt complete. The child she dreamed of was hers at last.
“He certainly has a large appetite!” Margaret laughed.
Catherine changed him to her other side and he rooted about until he found her nipple. “I do not think he ever gets filled.”
“His father was the same way. I swore he had hollow legs.” Catherine made no comment and Margaret sighed. “No matter how much you wish to deny it, Ransom is the father.”
Catherine frowned. “I do not deny his siring the child, Margaret, but I cannot think of him as his father. He may never lay eyes on his son.”
“Surely you will not deny him his rights to the boy?” Margaret asked, her eyes wide as she awaited her reply.
Catherine sighed heavily. “For the child’s sake, I would have Ransom claim him. But I do not think he will.”
Margaret was clearly stunned. “Not claim his son? That is absurd!”
The time for reckoning was before her and Catherine drew a deep breath to find the nerve to go on. “He will not claim the child because Phillip will not be here to claim.”
“I do not understand,” Margaret shook her head. “First you say you want what is best for the child, then you say you will remove him. Please explain yourself, my dear.”
Catherine’s face softened as she gazed at her son. “The child would benefit in the future if he is claimed. A bastard does not have the same opportunities if his father does not recognize him.” She heard Margaret’s light gasp. “He is a bastard, Margaret, no matter how badly we wish it otherwise.”
“But, child—”
“Please let me finish.” Catherine’s brow furrowed with the pain her own words were causing. “Ransom would have been content to have me as his mistress. How can I expect more than that now?”
“But there is the child!” Margaret exclaimed.
“Yes,” Catherine replied sadly, afraid Ransom would want her only because of the child.
“I see,” Margaret sighed.
Reaching out for Margaret’s hand, Catherine bared her soul. “Because I loved him, I gave all I could give, but he never once claimed to have loved me.” Thinking of their last time together, she didn’t wish to mention the words said in the heat of passion. After all, how much credence could she give to them?
“If he loved you, would you stay?” Margaret asked outright.
“If he had declared his love to me at Devil’s Head, I would have waited for him forever, but there were no such words, only his demands that I stay.”
Smiling slightly, Margaret announced,” Ransom has never been known for his patience.” A faint smile lifted the corner of Catherine’s lip. “I see you are fully aware of that.”
“Yes. Fully,” Catherine sighed, disturbing her son so that he began to fuss.
Margaret smiled as she reached out her hand to touch the infant. “A typical Kent male.”
“Perhaps,” Catherine saddened, “but he will be a Thorpe.” She raised her eyes to her hostess and friend. “I have decided to name him Phillip Ransom Thorpe.” Seeing the sadness fill Margaret’s eyes, she sighed. “It is the best I can do.”
* * *
Catherine stayed in residence while she healed from her delivery. Daily, she grew stronger. As for the babe, he looked more like his father every day. In the month since his birth, he had stretched out. He would take after his father in stature as well as coloring. The babe was as impatient and demanding as Ransom. His lusty cry often awoke the household if Catherine was not quick enough to feed him.
Her heart was filled with love as she smiled down at the sleeping bundle. It would not be fair for Ransom not to see his son, but she had come to realize that life was seldom fair. She returned to her chair near the fire.
“Is there something wrong?” Margaret asked, setting aside her needlework.
Catherine knew it would not be wise to explain her plans to leave soon. News of the war did not bode well for England and she knew her time was running out.
“I was just—” A ruckus outside silenced her. She watched Margaret rise and go to the window.
“It is Phillip,” Margaret announced, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She turned to face the door when she heard him enter the foyer.
“Maggie!” he called out, handing his cloak to a maid in the foyer. “Maggie, love! Are you still down here?”
“We are in here, Phillip,” she replied. “And please keep your voice down. Little Phillip has just fallen asleep.”
Grabbing his wife about the waist, Phillip ignored her warning and swung her off her feet. “The treaty was signed four weeks ago!” he stated loud enough to set the babe to crying. “It is officially over!”
“Oh, Phillip!” Margaret cried. “Thank the Lord!”
As they shared their happiness and relief, Catherine stood beside the cradle. Her eyes filled with tears. She watched a confused Phillip step toward her.
&n
bsp; “Why the tears, child? Surely not for England. We have known for some time we could not win.”
Catherine shook her head. “I cry for the men who have died on both sides,” she stated, recalling the day she faced British troops at Devil’s Head. She looked up at Phillip. “And I cry in relief for the peace between us.”
“Unfortunately, many will not know of the peace for some time. All we can hope is word spreads quickly.” Phillip placed his arm about his wife’s shoulders. “But soon it will all be over.”
Thoughts of Ransom engaged in a battle that need not be fought made Catherine shiver. “How terrible for those who will not know in time.”
“He will be fine, child. You will see.”
Catherine leaned to tuck her quieting son snuggly in. “I hope so.” She bit her lip to stop a flow of tears. “No matter what happens between Ransom and me, I want him safe.”
“I know you do, dear,” Margaret consoled.
“There was more good news,” Phillip interrupted. “I ran into your uncle before they announced the scheduled day for the treaty to be delivered. He told me your cousin is to be wed. Seems some lad she knew in her youth has been in love with her for years, and she has decided she can make him a good wife.”
Catherine hadn’t heard anything after the word wed. She was simply too stunned. Struggling with a dozen questions, she made her way to a chair and sat. “How? How can she marry anyone?” she mumbled, half-aloud.
“Yes, dear,” Margaret said, cocking her head with the same question. “How is it possible when she is wed to Ransom?”
“She is not,” Phillip beamed. “She had the bloody thing annulled!” Catherine gasped as the news registered. “Told the magistrate the marriage was never consummated and, therefore, she wanted out of it. Well, you can imagine the shock when she said that after—”
Ransom was free, but that did not mean he would wish to claim her. How often did he remind her he did not wish to be wed? Was this the opportunity he needed to make a clean break?
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