September, 1815
Brentwood House was in an uproar.
Even from their bedchamber, Emma could hear Caleb interrogating the servants as to who might have dared bring a strawberry product into the house when it was expressly forbidden. If she weren’t feeling so wretched, she might have grinned. And gone downstairs to drag him away before each and every member of their staff handed in their resignation for the ridiculous and utterly false accusation.
Sighing, she petted Frisky and his new brother Bard, named for a unique ability to yowl between floors.
“Lady Brentwood...”
“Yes?” she said to Doctor Fenton, who stood a few feet away expertly crushing what smelled like peppermint and ginger with his palm-sized pestle and mortar.
“Beg pardon, but why does his lordship think you are suffering a berry episode?”
“Because he cannot imagine another reason why I might be so ill.”
“You haven’t told him?”
“Not yet,” she said softly. “I wanted to be very, very sure.”
“Ah,” said Fenton, smiling indulgently as he mixed his paste with cool water and a spoonful of honey to sweeten. “Try sipping this, then eating a slice of toasted bread.”
The drink was delicious, tart yet refreshing, and she sighed in relief as her roiling stomach slowly settled. She’d heard of the morning sickness curse, but recently occasional nausea had become morning, noon and night and she’d had quite enough.
Abruptly Caleb stormed through the bedchamber door, his face like thunder.
“Everyone is denying it. Said they wouldn’t let a berry within a hundred feet of this house. Do not worry, I will get to the bottom of this. Someone will pay, damn it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cal, sit down,” she said, loving him for his concern and yet trying valiantly not to giggle. “It is not strawberries that put me in this state, but you.”
His eyes widened in affront. “Me? But I haven’t...wait. Are you saying...”
“Yes. We are going to have a baby.”
Shock and awe and joy crossed his face, and as he visibly swallowed hard, she wanted to shoo the doctor away and wrap her arms around him. Well, when she knew for sure the contents of her stomach would stay put. Decorating a man’s trousers wasn’t the most romantic way to show him he was your dream come true.
“But how?” he said slowly. “I mean, it never happened before, not once in all those years.”
“Lord Brentwood,” said Fenton. “If I may, her ladyship assured me you have been diligent in er, not dillydallying since your permanent return.”
“Oh, very much so,” said her husband dryly. “Perhaps the most diligent couple in history.”
Cheeks ablaze, she concentrated fiercely on the kittens, wishing Caleb was close enough for a swarm of insect attacks.
“Well,” Fenton continued. “It is my belief that when there is undue pressure and expectation around conception, combined with long time lapses between attempts, a gentleman’s essence becomes...melancholy.”
Caleb cleared his throat. “Melancholy, you say?”
“Oh yes,” said the doctor enthusiastically as he repacked his satchel. “And what womb might embrace such an unhappy guest when it is equally morose?”
“Unless a gothic pairing, I can’t imagine.”
Pressing her fingers to her mouth, Emma began to rock.
“Hmmm. But I’m delighted for you both. Lady Brentwood, I will prepare packets of powder to be made into the settling beverage for your stomach. Do send word if you have any concerns.”
“Thank you, doctor,” she choked out.
“Poor, dear lady,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Good day to you.”
As soon as they were alone in the bedchamber, Emma turned and buried her face in the pillow, laughter shaking her entire body and probably about to undo all the good work of the peppermint and ginger concoction.
“Not sure why you think this is so amusing,” Caleb said sternly, strolling over to sit beside her on the bed. “Imagine if my melancholy essence hadn’t cheered up enough to be embraced by your previously morose womb. Our combined repertoire of witticisms, songs, and magic tricks would have been sorely tested. Might even have been too much for Frisky and Bard.”
She sat up and wiped her eyes. “Are you pleased?”
“Anything that pleases you, pleases me. But yes, I am thrilled. Also terrified, and eager to meet him or her.”
“I feel the same. Hold me?”
Caleb shuffled sideways, and carefully folded his arms around her. Sighing in pleasure, she burrowed against him, reveling in the strength and heat. When they were together like this, it was almost impossible to remember the bad times.
“I love you, Caleb.”
His hold tightened.
“I love you, Emmy,” he said softly.
A promise for always.
THE END