Page 81 of The Viscount and the Vixen
She’d been noticing changes for some time now, lacking energy in the afternoons, her stomach feeling a bit queasy in the mornings, but she’d kept it all to herself because it felt far too early to announce a baby was on the way. Even now, she wasn’t quite comfortable with it, but Minerva and Julia had forced her hand.
She was most surprised by Locksley’s reaction. His mother’s death had obviously affected him more than she’d realized, no doubt more than anyone thought. She had sensed his worry that morning when he learned of her condition and it had tempered any excitement he might have felt at the possibility of acquiring his heir. Although she truly wanted this child to be a girl. A sweet little girl whom she could shower with the love and affection that had been denied her.
“We’ll have our heir here before the year is out,” Marsden said, grinning broadly.
“It might be a girl,” she told him.
“Maybe.” He tapped two fingers to his chest. “But in here, I know it to be a boy.”
“Regardless, Father, you’ll welcome the child,” Locksley said.
“Naturally.” He gave her a secretive wink as though he had no doubts at all that she was carrying a boy.
“Shall I play something on the pianoforte?” she asked, hoping to move the discussion away from her pregnancy.
“You should rest this evening,” Locksley said.
“It’s not as though I’m incapacitated. I feel perfectly fine now. And I’m not planning to just sit around for... well, however many months are left.”
His brow furrowed. “Eight I should think.”
“Sometimes babies come early. I did. Several weeks early, as a matter of fact. All of my siblings came early.”
“So did Locke,” Marsden said.
Her husband snapped his attention to his father. “I did?”
Marsden nodded, studying the scotch remaining in his glass as though he wished he hadn’t spoken. “Two weeks I think. Or perhaps the physician miscalculated. It’s not as though it’s an exact science. One can only guess as to when conception truly took place.”
“Speaking of physicians, we’ll want to bring a new one to the village,” Locksley said.
“But Findley’s been here forever.”
“He was here when I was born, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Then we want a different one.”
A wealth of sadness in his eyes, Marsden studied his son. “He couldn’t have saved your mother.”
He shot up out of his chair and strode to the table of decanters. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was agitated, concerned for her health. “He’s going to say that, isn’t he? Or perhaps we’ll go to London as Portia’s time nears.”
She didn’t want to be anywhere near London. “The babe should be born here, at the estate.”
“She’s right,” Marsden said. “We’ll find a new physician.”
Locksley filled his glass and returned to his chair, hardly appearing appeased. “Good. I’ll place an advert in theTimes.”
“Announce your marriage while you’re at it.”
Portia’s stomach knotted up at that command, but she could hardly object without raising suspicions. Besides, realistically, her marriage to Locksley couldn’t remain a secret forever. Best to just get it done and hope for the best.
“I know there is precedent for your concern,” Edward said quietly, “but both Julia and Minerva have delivered babes and survived.”
“And doctors know so much more now, don’t they?” Julia added. “I daresay, medicine as a whole is vastly improving.”
“Not to mention that Portia gave birth before with no ill effects,” the marquess said.
