Page 41 of The Baron's Return
He didn’t have another nightmare, so she had no excuse to visit him, much as she wanted to.
As the time approached for her monthly courses, she began to wonder if she could be with child. They had conceived Gemma after being together only once, but Abigail was older now. She’d learned that sometimes it took a while for conception to take place.
Still, she hoped that given their recent nightly lovemaking, she’d soon become pregnant. She would know within the day. Her courses were never late, and they were due to arrive tomorrow. She had to be patient until then, although her intuition was telling her that she would soon have good news for her husband.
They’d reached a settled place in their relationship. She wanted to give him another child so much she ached from the desire. Wanted to give him the opportunity to be with his child from birth. But she needed to wait until the time for her bleeding had passed so she wouldn’t get his hopes up only to dash them later.
She ignored the headache that had been plaguing her all day and headed downstairs to join Cranston and Gemma for dinner, as was their nightly ritual. But throughout the meal, her thoughts kept returning to the hope that they would soon be a family of four.
She was imagining how she would share the news when her daughter’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“Mama?”
Abigail looked at Gemma. “Yes?”
“Can we go?”
Abigail looked to Cranston, who was watching her closely, then back at Gemma. “I’m afraid I was woolgathering. Can you repeat your question?”
“Miss Phillips was reading a story that took place in Africa. It had monkeys.”
“And I told her that we should go to the Tower and visit the royal menagerie there to see the monkeys.”
Abigail tried to smile at the two loves of her life, but her headache was so much worse than it had been this morning.
“Are you unwell?” Cranston asked, his eyes narrowing on her.
She nodded. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a headache.”
“You had a headache yesterday,” Gemma said.
“And one the day before that,” Cranston added.
She lifted a hand to her temple. “It’s not the first time I’ve had several so close together. I’m sure I’ll be better soon.”
Cranston didn’t look convinced, but when he looked at Gemma and saw the way her brows were lowered with concern, he did what he could to set their daughter’s mind at ease.
“We’ll arrange for that visit as soon as your mother is feeling well.” He turned to her. “Perhaps you should go upstairs and get some rest.”
She nodded once, the pounding in her head suddenly worse. “I think that’s a good idea.” When Cranston looked as though he was about to stand, she placed a hand on his arm. “You and Gemma should enjoy dessert. I know that Cook has prepared a syllabub.”
His eyes roamed over her face. “Fine. But I will check on you later when I see Gemma to bed.”
She stood, ignoring the way her vision swam for a moment. She leaned down to place a kiss on top of Gemma’s head and said her good-nights.
She’d only just started to climb the stairs when the moment of dizziness came crashing back with a vengeance. She cried out as she crumpled. Her last action before losing consciousness was to send up a prayer for the child that she was now convinced she carried.
“Is Mama going to get well?” Gemma asked. “Maybe I should bring Pepper for a visit.”
“I’m sure she will. But I think she needs to rest for a little while before she can play with the kitten.” He was trying to convince himself as much as his daughter, but in truth he was more than a little concerned. Three days of headaches seemed excessive. And she’d been getting paler with each passing day. If she wasn’t better tomorrow, he’d send for a physician.
When he heard her cry out, he leapt to his feet. The chair made a horrible scraping sound as he pushed it back and raced to see what had happened.
He found Abigail slumped at the bottom of the stairs, her head on the second stair.
His heart was already racing as he hurried to her side. How far had she fallen? Had she hit her head on the way down?
Servants were starting to crowd into the hallway.
