Everyone can master a grief but he that has it.
—Much Ado About Nothing, act 3, scene 2
It had been a hellish day, and he was in a foul humor.
The first splash of brandy had gone down easily, so he’d poured another. He’d planned to spend the entire cold, wet evening at home and do what he hadn’t done in well over a year, indulge in his brandy.
From the first night he’d seen Katherine, he’d known that she was wrong for him. She wasn’t the kind of lady he could enjoy for a time and then leave. He sat in his book room with his booted feet propped on his desk, thinking that just maybe he’d return to his scoundrel ways of drinking and gambling the night away. But back when he was so young and carefree, he’d had very little control of his life. He hadn’t wanted any. Hadn’t needed any. Being free to do whatever he wanted when he wanted was all that mattered to him.
Now, he was an earl with a wealth of responsibility that he could have never imagined would be his.
He had Dixon and his future to consider, too.
But what he wanted was Katherine.
After he’d left her, he’d gone to the mews and saddled his horse. He’d ridden in the park until dusk. He’d thought about leaving Society as he had when he’d lost Annie, but he was a different man now, and that thought had quickly fled his mind. At the time, the isolation of the cold, damp coast was where he needed to be, but no longer. But he couldn’t stay in London and watch the woman he loved marry someone else.
Adam sipped his brandy again. Yes, he would have to leave London and not return. He didn’t want to see Katherine with Rudyard dancing at a ball or walking with the man and their sons in the park. No, he couldn’t watch the woman he loved building a family with another man. And he had no doubt Rudyard would marry her, scandal or not. The man was a dandy, but he wasn’t a fool.
The thought of her in any other man’s arms made him feel as if there were a gaping hole where his heart should be.
A movement caught his eye and he saw Dixon standing quietly in the doorway. One day the lad would learn to talk more and announce himself, but for now, Adam would humor him.
“It’s past midnight. What are you doing up at this hour? Is anything wrong?”
Dixon shook his head.
“Does Mrs. Bernewelt know you’re down here?”
He shook his head again. “She smells better.”
A smile spread across Adam’s face. Leave it to his cousin to make him smile when he felt like hell. “Mrs. Bernewelt’s hands?”
Dixon nodded.
“Good,” Adam said dryly. “I’m glad to hear it. I finally did something right, and at least someone is happy. Which reminds me, I need to talk with her and make sure she’s willing to go with us when we leave London.”
Dixon walked farther into the room and stood in front of Adam’s desk. His big eyes were full of concern.
Adam swore softly under his breath. “I hope she is. I don’t want to have to interview for another governess.”
“I don’t want to leave. I like it here.”
“So do I, but we can’t stay. There are some things I need to do that can’t be done from here.” Adam rubbed his forehead. Katherine would know just what to say to settle Dixon, but Adam had no idea. “Remember, your home is where mine is. You go where I go. Understand?”
A wrinkle formed between Dixon’s youthful eyes. “Where are we going?”
“To check the Greyhawke lands and estates. Meet the tenants and talk to the managers. It’ll be good for you to go. It will all be yours one day.”
“I like it here,” he said again.
Adam understood Dixon’s fears. He’d lost his mother, been sent to an orphanage, then been taken out to the coast and dropped at the door of a stranger. It was no wonder he didn’t want to leave again.
“Look,” Adam said, trying to think of what Katherine would say to calm the lad’s fears. “This is something that needs to be done, and I’ve put it off for far too long as it is. It will be an adventure for your soldiers to go on. You can say they’re going off to fight in a war.”
“Can Miss Wright go with us?”
Adam rose in his chair and brought his feet down to the floor. “What made you say that?”
“Her hands smell nice.”
“Everything about her smells nice,” Adam said as a longing filled him to his core.
“She’s pretty, too.”
Oh, yes.
“No, she can’t go with us.”
Dixon’s face relaxed into an expression of sadness. “Have you asked her?”
He had, and she wouldn’t agree to his terms. He couldn’t blame her. It was a hell of a thing to have to say to the woman you loved. Adam would give everything he owned to be able to take those words back.
“I can’t. Now, you’d better find your way to your room before Mrs. Bernewelt finds you gone.”
“I’ll ask her for you.”
Adam grunted a laugh. “It won’t do any good, Dixon. She’s going to marry someone else.”
“That man in the park?”
“Yes.” Damn lucky man, too, he thought. “Now go on back up to bed.”
Listening to Dixon’s small feet climb the stairs, Adam closed his eyes tightly. If he’d thought the outcome would be any different, he’d ask her to marry him a second time. But it wouldn’t. He’d known from their first meeting that she had demons to deal with, too. She hadn’t shared all of them with him, and he hadn’t shared all of his until this afternoon.
The chair creaked as Adam rose and walked over to the side table, when from the front of the house he heard a knock. So did Pharaoh. He barked once and jumped up to investigate. Adam grimaced. Who would be coming to his door at this hour? Clark had already retired, so Adam put down his glass and strode to the entrance before Pharaoh woke up everyone in the house.
“Harrison,” he said as the Pyrenees jumped on his friend. “Come in. I’ll pour you a drink.”
Harrison stepped inside but didn’t close the door behind himself. “I’m not staying.”
Adam tensed. He knew from his friend’s tone and look of apprehension that something was wrong. “What is it?”
“It’s Bray’s wife. It’s her time and she’s having difficulty.”
In the darkness behind Harrison, Adam saw Annie lying in bed, drenched in sweat, shrieking in pain, gasping for every breath. She swore she hated him for planting the babe inside her. She begged him to save her life and then begged him to save the baby’s life.
“Adam,” Harrison said.
Shaking off the memories, he whispered, “Damnation.”
“He didn’t want you to know. For obvious reasons. I’ve gone against his wishes to come tell you. I felt you should know. You don’t have to go, but I knew it had to be your decision whether or not you went to stand beside him.”
Old memories welled and threatened him again, but Adam fought them away. “Hell, yes, I’m going,” he said. “It’ll take time to get my carriage ready. May I ride with you?”
“Of course, let’s go.”
Thankfully, Harrison remained quiet and didn’t try to talk with Adam on the short ride to Bray’s house. Adam was having a hard enough time keeping his own thoughts at bay without having to hear Harrison’s as well. It wasn’t something he’d allowed himself to dwell on, but at the back of his mind, he’d always known there was a chance something would go wrong with one of their wives during birth.
“Adam, you shouldn’t have come,” Bray said as he and Harrison walked into Bray’s book room. “I didn’t want you to. There’s no reason to put yourself through—”
“Bray,” Adam said, touching his arm to stop him. “I want to be here. How are things now?”
“As you know too well, the husband is the last one to be told anything.”
Adam knew. The midwife had kept him out of Annie’s room, too. After she’d labored more than a day and a half, Adam had defied the woman’s orders and gone in to see his wife. The image of her distended, sweat-drenched body lying on the bed in that hot, dark room would always be with him, but now he had to block it from his mind.
“The midwife keeps telling me nothing is wrong. That it takes longer for some women to deliver than others. But I know the labor is going on too long.”
Adam remembered hearing those same words.
“She’s my wife, having my babe, and I’m locked out of her room,” Bray continued. “I sent for the same accoucheur you brought in for Annie.”
“Good,” Adam said, but felt no relief hearing it. The man hadn’t been able to help Annie.
“He’s with her now. Hopefully he’ll be down and tell me something soon.”
“I’m sure he will,” Adam said. “Where are her sisters?”
“The two youngest wore themselves out with worry and fell asleep. The older two are with Louisa.” Bray rubbed his hands together. “I was sent word they were a comfort to her.”
“That’s good,” Harrison said.
“Yes, but if someone doesn’t come down soon with a report, I’m going to ignore the rules of propriety and go see for myself how she is doing, even if I have to knock the blasted door down.”
“You remember how they are. For some reason they think the fathers will taint the birthing room,” Harrison said.
“It’s probably best we’re not allowed in,” Adam offered.
From above them, they heard Louisa cry out. Bray started for the door. “Enough of this foolishness. I’m going to see my wife.”
Adam and Harrison looked at each other but said nothing. For more than half an hour, they took turns silently pacing in front of the fireplace, then over to the window and to the bottom of the stairs, and then back into the book room. Time was passing slowly for all of them.
Finally Harrison said, “I’m going to step outside for a few minutes. Come get me if there’s news.”
Adam nodded and walked over to the window and stared out into the darkness. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there when he heard a voice behind him.
He turned. It was the male midwife who had tried to help Annie. “What did you say?”
“The duke has a son, and the babe and the duchess are in good health.”
Relief flooded Adam. He hadn’t realized until that moment that his legs were weak and his breaths were long and shallow. “You’re sure.”
“I feel confident they are. The duchess was sitting up in bed holding the babe when I left.”
“That’s good news.”
“I remember you,” the accoucheur said. “But I believe you’re Lord Greyhawke now.”
Adam nodded. “I guess there was no problem with the babe being too big to be born.”
The man’s brow wrinkled as he looked at Adam. “All births are different and some can be risky, but it really doesn’t matter about the size of the babe,” he said soberly.
Adam looked at the gray-haired man. “What do you mean? The size of the babe doesn’t matter?”
“Large babes are born every day, my lord. What makes the difference is how the mother’s body responds to the delivery process and how it pushes the babe out that counts. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to do more for your wife. Not even forceps will help when the body doesn’t cooperate and open up so you can get them in.”
“Because the baby was so big,” Adam said again.
The man’s eyes narrowed as if he weren’t following Adam’s meaning. “You thought your wife couldn’t deliver the baby because it was too big?”
“That’s what I was told,” Adam said cautiously.
“I’m sure your wife felt that way, but that wasn’t the reason she couldn’t deliver. Her body failed her by not responding to the labor and opening. It had nothing to do with the size of the baby. It could have been the size of my hand and it wouldn’t have made any difference in the outcome for her. I have seen many small women, much smaller than your wife, have large, healthy babies. The body is supposed to open and make way for the babe to push through. Hers never did.”
Adam felt as if his whole body were tingling. “So if I were to have another baby, there may not be a problem.”
“There’s no reason to think there would be. What happened to your wife had nothing to do with you or the babe. I’d say the odds were good that there wouldn’t be a problem at all. It all depends on the mother. Some babes come fast, others take their time. But the mother’s body has to do its part, too.”
Adam walked over to a chair and sat down.