Page 46 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

But he had made a little leeway before the commotion began, hadn’t he? Charlotte certainly responded to the kiss on her wrist.

The door opened, and his mother and Charlotte emerged, then closed the door behind them. His gaze snagged with Charlotte’s, and the panic taking hold of him expanded in his chest.

Drake spun around. “Why can’t I go in?” He took three steps toward the door, and Simon grabbed his arm, holding him back.

“Ashton will let us know how she is.” At least Simon hoped so. His mother always had midwives, who had been less than forthcoming, always complaining men had no place in the birthing room. His mother seemed to agree.

And as much as Simon would be paralyzed to be in a room with a woman giving birth, he understood Drake’s frustration, wanting to be with his wife.

Because Drake loved her.

The door opened, and Ashton stepped through, closing the door behind him.

Drake shook himself from Simon’s grasp. “How is she?” The terror in his friend’s voice cut through Simon like a blade.

“She’s doing remarkably well. She’s been having pains since last night. At first she didn’t understand what they were.”

“She stood up to use the necessary and, well—” Drake blushed. “She didn’t make it.”

“That was her waters, Drake. All quite normal. It won’t betoo long now. Would you like to come in and watch your child be born?”

Simon imagined his shocked expression mirrored everyone’s around him.

His mother said, “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but is that wise?”

Ashton chuckled. Actually chuckled. At such a time? “I have delivered my own children. If Drake can remain calm and supportive, Honoria has asked that he be by her side so they can share this together.”

Drake didn’t hesitate and stepped toward the door.

Simon’s world started crumbling around him. He’d expected to keep Drake occupied while they waited. Selfish though it was, at least it would give him something to do. But without a task, an objective, he felt rudderless, sinking into a mire of inactivity. He would drown.

Hand on the doorknob, Drake turned toward him. “Go. You don’t have to wait. I’ll be all right. Occupy yourself. Otherwise you’ll go mad.”

Oh, how his friend knew him, and he vowed he would repay him in full measure someday.

Until that moment, no one had commented on his or Charlotte’s disheveled appearances. But as Ashton paused before following Drake into the chamber of horrors, his gaze bounced between the newly married couple. “I understand felicitations are in order. If nothing else, Mr. Beckham, you will have another reminder of your wedding date.” With that, he stepped inside and closed the door, shutting out a renewed cry from Honoria.

Simon wanted to jump out of his skin. Every inch prickled at the sounds of pain. “Can we at least go somewhere else?”

Charlotte motioned with her arms as if gathering a group of lost ducklings. “Why don’t we all go to the drawing room? I’ll tell Frampton to prepare some refreshment. Mr. Beckham, you drink coffee, is that correct?”

Simon’s head jerked toward her. She’d noticed his father’s preference?

“I do, my dear.”

“And the girls,” Charlotte continued. “Where are they?”

“In the music room,” his mother said, admiration shining in her eyes.

Simon concurred. His wife had taken charge of the situation.

“Even better than the drawing room,” Charlotte said. “We shall bring the young heir into the world to some lovely music. Do the girls play?”

At that point, the conversation became a buzz around him, indistinct, but calming words, and he followed his family to the music room.

He lasted all of forty minutes. Each time there was a lull in the music—which varied from exquisite when Charlotte played to clumsy and headache-inducing when Georgie pounded at the piano’s keys—Honoria’s screams broke through the silence.

How could Drake stand it? Torture. Unmitigated on-the-rack torture. Tightness clamped his chest. He had to get out of there. Rain pounded against the pavement and lawn outside, and he wanted nothing more than to be out there, soaked to the skin and washed clean of the helplessness gripping him.

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