Page 96 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“Adam,” she said, amused. “Have you read that somewhere, or are you merely saying that for your own amusement?”
He looked pained. “Your health is no insignificant matter.”
“I know, my love.” She cupped his cheek. “But I am pregnant, not dying.”
He recovered enough to give her a haughty glance. “For some ladies, it is one and the same.”
“Is that anything to say to your wife? If I were fainter of heart, I might fall into hysterics and require my smelling salts.”
His smile was faint but warm. “You are not faint of heart, and you are not like any other lady prone to hysterics or smelling salts. Do you even have some?”
“I’m certain some could be procured from somewhere if you continue to infuriate me.” She knocked his hand away from the teapot. “Really, Adam. I’m perfectly well.”
He eyed her stomach suspiciously, chewing on his bottom lip. “You’re certain?”
“Yes. In fact, I am going to do some gardening this afternoon while the weather is still good. Once autumn arrives, there will be less opportunity for?—”
“Absolutely not.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have become autocratic in your old age.”
“When you are not bearing our son or daughter, you can garden as much as you like.”
“So long as it is not in the direct sun and I am wearing a bonnet with a sufficiently broad brim and I do it your way?”
She laughed at his sheepish expression and came to sit on his lap. Immediately, his arms came up around her, holding her close.
“I’m sturdy,” she said, chuckling at the way his face contorted in disgust at the term. “And not as fragile as you think.”
“I could carry you to the garden?” he offered.
“I have a far better plan.” She kissed him. “I’ve heard there is a hedge maze somewhere, and I believe we should explore it together.”
He drew away. “Is that safe? I?—”
“Perfectly.”
His expression was dubious, but she felt him stir beneath her, and she knew she had won that particular round. Although she played it off lightly, his concern touched her. When she wrote to her mother, explaining the good news, her mother wrote back about all the things their future child, the heir of a duke, would have in life.
There was, of course, a small concern that Emmeline look after herself for the sake of the baby, but her mother seemed to have no doubts that Emmeline could carry to term and be perfectly well after.
“Why should you not, dear?” her mother asked when she arrived with Aurelia to stay. “You have wide hips, excellent for childbearing. I only lost so many because my hips are so narrow, although indeed it is the fashion.”
Adam’s eyes, hot and dark, met Emmeline’s over his cup, and she knew that he would not exchange her ‘unfashionable’ hips for a moment.
Aurelia, at least, was a little more concerned.
“I really think you should take care of yourself,” she said anxiously. “And make sure you have plenty of books to read when you are confined. My friend who was confined for several months said it was extremely boring.”
“Oh, I doubt I will be confined for long,” Emmeline said, casting a teasing glance at Adam.
His answering glare suggested he would confine her now if he had the chance.
But the trial with Nicholas was fast approaching, and Emmeline was determined to be there. Both to testify and to support Adam. His thoughts had been distracted by her well-timed pregnancy—indeed, it was as though fate itself had dictated the timings—but he grew quieter as the inevitable date drew near.
Then, at the last moment, the impossible happened.
While her mother and sister were still staying at the house, a messenger arrived late at night. Adam bid her to stay in bed as he went to see what the noise was, but she followed him downstairs. The messenger was a slim man with a shock of brown hair and an exhausted, harried expression.
