Page 97 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
Her mother gasped and brought both hands to her mouth. She looked positively giddy, which was odd, because the Countess of Cheltenham was not the giddy sort. “That marvelous boy!”
“Mama? What are you talking about?”
Her mother seized her arm and tugged Anne’s ear to her mouth. “I am talking about the fact that I am going to be a grandmother!”
Anne blinked at her mother, shock and horror swirling in her stomach. “But—but—you can’t know that. I haven’t missed my courses or—”
The countess snorted. “Really, Anne! You doubt the woman who’s borne eight children? That tenderness you describe is always the earliest sign. Mark my words, you’re increasing.”
“Oh, my gracious!” The room suddenly swayed, and she felt her mother grab her by the arm. She let her mother lead her to a padded bench. “Oh, Mama, this is terrible!”
Her mother sat beside her, brow furrowed. “Really, darling! You’ve nothing to worry about.” She took Anne’s hand and squeezed it. “Morsley will come up to scratch. We’ve always known that. He would probably marry you right this instant.”
“I know he would. That’s… that’s not the problem.” Anne felt tears streaking down her face.
“Anne!” Her mother fished a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it into Anne’s hand. “Darling, there’s nothing to cry about.” She studied Anne, bewildered. “If it makes you feel embarrassed, we won’t tell anyone that the happy event took place before your wedding. So long as you marry in the next week or so, no one will suspect a thing.”
Anne found she was unable to speak. Which was fortunate, because how could she explain to her mother the real problem—that she now had no choice but to marry Michael. He had her backed into a corner. If she didn’t marry him, she would be ruined, and nobody would donate to a charity founded by a scandalous woman.
And if she did marry him, he was going to drag her off to Canada.
Either way, she was going to lose her charity, the thing she’d worked so hard for, her pride, her joy, her purpose. And all of those women and children were going to be back on the streets.
Michael poked his head in the door. “Are you ready, Anne? The carriage is—” It wasn’t difficult to mark the moment he noticed her distress. He was across the room in three long strides, then collapsed to his knees before her. “Anne? What on earth is wrong, darling?”
She looked down, unable to speak. Michael turned to the countess expectantly, and she cleared her throat. “She is… unwell.”
She felt Michael take her hand. “What can I do?”
“Just take me home,” Anne said, her voice breaking.
Michael obeyed at once, scooping her into his arms and carrying her straight out the door. He did not pause at her brothers’ alarmed inquiries, explaining, “She’s unwell, and she wants to go home,” then boosted Anne easily into the phaeton.
As soon as they had pulled away from Astley House, Michael said, “What is it, Anne?”
She didn’t yet trust her powers of speech. “I’ll tell you once we arrive.”
Michael pushed the horses faster than was probably wise, given that Mayfair was crowded with carriages at this hour, as the ton made their way from one entertainment to the next. They arrived at Anne’s house within minutes. Anne insisted she could walk and led Michael past a startled Hugh and into the parlor.
She rubbed her forehead as she settled on the sofa. At least her sobbing had subsided. Michael wasn’t quite pacing the room, but he was radiating tension as he visibly struggled to figure out what to do with himself.
After half a minute, he could take it no longer. “For the love of God, Anne, tell me what’s going on.”
Anne clenched two fistfuls of her skirts. “Based on what my mother tells me,” she said, her voice quavering, “I’m fairly certain that I’m pregnant.”
For an instant, Michael froze, his eyes wide. He rushed across the room and sat beside her, taking her hand. “But Anne, that’s—that’s wonderful news.” He studied her face, brow creased. “Isn’t it?”
“It should be. It should be the happiest moment of my life. Except—” Her voice broke. When she managed to speak, she was unable to conceal a note of bitterness. “Except now you have me exactly where you want me, don’t you? I have no choice but to marry you, and you’re going to drag me off to C-Canada.” Anne dabbed at her cheeks with her handkerchief. “I might as well go ahead and shutter the Ladies’ Society.”
“Anne,” Michael groaned. He dropped to his knees before her and took both of her hands in his. His green eyes held a trace of bewilderment. “Don’t you know me at all?” She said nothing. “Have you not noticed that nobody else seems worried I’m going to drag you off to Canada?”
She frowned. “Are they not?”
He laughed ruefully. “I wish you could have seen your brothers, and my own father, mocking me yesterday. Because they all know something you haven’t seemed to figure out yet. They all know that you have me right here.” He released one of her hands in order to wrap his huge fist around her little finger. “You’re the one who has me exactly where you want me. You always have. All you have to do is crook your finger and I’ll be falling over myself to do your bidding. It is agony for me to see you crying, and to know that you’re crying because of me?” He shuddered. “It’s unbearable. So please, let us have no more talk of me dragging you to Canada against your will. Because any plan that would result in you being sad every day is the exact opposite of what I want.”
“But… but you said you’d figured out how I could go to Canada. You just said it tonight.”
“I did, but hear me out, Anne. My plan doesn’t involve us going to Canada for another two years, and it certainly doesn’t involve you shuttering your charity. Quite the opposite. You’re going to expand it.”
