Aunt Kitty came hurrying toward him and scooped the baby from his arms. “Oh, Luc,” she said. “You must leave. Quickly.” Sheturned to lead the way to the dressing room, but he stood where he was, his eyes riveted upon the bed. His wife was lying upon it, moaning, her mother beside the bed, the physician at the foot.
God! Oh, God, she was dying.
“Phil.” He whispered her name, but somehow she heard him. Her flushed face turned his way. Her hair was matted, her face drenched with sweat, her eyes heavy with pain.
“Lucas,” she said. “Lucas.”
With a few strides he was beside the bed and reaching for her hands on either side of her head. She panted and groaned and closed her eyes. Her hands gripped his as though intent upon breaking bones. He turned his head to look along her body.
And his eyes widened and his mouth fell open as her whole body tensed and their son was born.
—
I am just very glad that Emily was born first,” Philippa said a little more than half an hour later. “She will forever be able to hold it over Christopher’s head that he is her younger brother.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of one warm bundle nestled in the bend of her left elbow and another in the crook of her right. Both babies were asleep, as she herself was very close to being.
She opened her eyes to see that Lucas was still standing close to the bed, gazing down at them with that special look he sometimes had—not quite smiling but bursting with happiness somewhere behind his eyes. It was always difficult to describe an expression that did not quite reach the face but lit it from within.
“Females can be formidable creatures, can they not?” he said.
“We can.” She closed her eyes again and smiled. “Poor Aunt Kitty. You had better go and put her out of her misery, Lucas.”
Aunt Kitty had gone to celebrate with her parents, though she had promised them both that shewould not say a word to them before Lucas could make a proper announcement himself.
“I am afraid that if I leave the room again,” he said, “I might come back to discover that we have triplets.”
She groaned and laughed softly and opened her eyes to find that he was definitely smiling now.
“Phil,” he said, “I had no idea. I thought I did, but I did not. Thank you, my love. For our surprise twins. For loving me. For forgiving me and marrying me.”
“I had no idea either,” she said. “But they are worth every moment of discomfort. I think I am about to fall asleep, Lucas. Take Christopher to meet Grandmama and Grandpapa. I wish I could be there to see their faces, but I am too tired. And I think Emily might be cross if I tried to move.”
He leaned over the bed and kissed her softly on the lips before picking up their son and nestling him in the crook of his arm.
“We men know when we are no longer wanted,” he said. “Sleep well, my love.”
She was still smiling when the door closed behind him and her mother opened the dressing room door and came softly inside to make sure mother and daughter were comfortable.
—
The Duke and Duchess of Wilby had gone downstairs to the drawing room. It was the only place in which one could properly celebrate the birth of a great-granddaughterwith champagne, His Grace had declared over the protests of his daughter. Jenny had been carried down too.
The champagne had been brought in, Her Grace had spoken again of her great pleasure in seeing her new great-granddaughterin Luc’s arms, His Grace had declared—not for the first time—that he wasin no waydisappointed that she was not a boy and no one was even to think he was, and they waited only to see if the Dowager Countess of Stratton would join them for a toast to the new baby. A servant had been sent up to invite her to come down.
When the drawing room door opened again, however, it was not the dowager who joined them but Lucas himself—with the baby again.
“How lovely,” his grandmother said, beaming and clasping her hands to her bosom. “You have brought her back, Luc. I suppose Philippa is sleeping. She has earned her rest.”
“It is not Emily I have brought this time, Grandmama,” Lucas said. “She is very contentedly sleeping beside her mama. I have brought Christopher instead. He lagged behind his sister by almost half an hour, but here he is to meet you all, though rather impolitely he is asleep. Here is your great-grandson.”
Her Grace stared mutely, her hands still clasped to her bosom. The duke frowned ferociously.
“Hmmph,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I daresay his sister will gloat for the rest of their lives and serve him right. However, it is said that slow and steady wins the race. Come here, Luc, and place my heir’s heir in my arms. Let me have a look at him. Does he have red hair? His sister is going to be as blond as her mama.”
“I believe he does,” Lucas said as he laid his son carefully in his grandfather’s arms, where the former continued to sleep quietly, quite unperturbed by the fierce frown being directed down upon him.
“Then he has fire in his blood,” the duke said. “And all is well. Little rascal.”
