“Lavinia, what is wrong?”
Lavinia squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Gently, Edith nudged her over and sat beside her, brushing stray strands of hair from her face.
“I’m here,” Edith crooned. “Have a good cry.”
Lavinia looked up at her, blue-green eyes shimmering, then buried her face in the covers and sobbed even harder. True to her word, Edith stayed close, gently comforting her until the tears finally subsided. When Lavinia quieted, Edith retrieved a damp cloth from the washstand.
Lavinia sat up, shoulders slumped. “Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze lowered.
Edith waited quietly while Lavinia dabbed away her tears. When she finished, Edith took the cloth back to the washstand, then returned to sit beside her on the edge of the bed.
Lavinia grasped her hand, her grave expression foreshadowing dreadful news. Edith’s heart slammed against her ribs as she braced herself.
“I—” Lavinia’s voice broke into a whisper. “I’m pregnant.”
Edith clenched her teeth, the muscles in her jaw twitching. If the marquess had tossed Lavinia aside after discovering her condition, Edith was going to bloody his nose.
Better yet, she would ask Mr. McTaggart to do the job. He would do almost anything for Lady Thorne and her kin. Edith had a feeling he’d relish the chance to punch a Sassenach, too, especially one who deserved it.
“That dirty, despicable blackguard!” She hopped off the bed. “Is he still in the castle?”
Lavinia blinked at her. “Who? St. Ambrose?”
Edith planted her hands on her hips. “Of course, St. Ambrose. Tell me where he is, and I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves.”
When Lavinia continued to stare with a slack jaw, Edith waved an impatient hand. “Forget I asked. You’re in shock, you poor dear. I will find him myself.”
She turned for the door, a storm of righteous fury brewing within her.
“No!” Lavinia sprang from the bed, nearly tackling her to the floor.
A plush chair broke Edith’s fall, leaving her sprawled across it.
“For pity’s sake!” Edith glanced over her shoulder, meeting Lavinia’s shocked gaze. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’m so sorry.” Lavinia rushed forward, fumbling to hook her arms under Edith’s. “Did I hurt you?”
She wasn’t strong enough to lift Edith, and with Edith's arms stuck straight out from her shoulders, she couldn't push herself up.
“Just let go,” Edith snapped. “You shouldn’t be lifting in your condition.”
Lavinia released her and stepped back. “Sorry.”
After wrestling her skirts into submission, Edith managed to stand. She plopped onto the chair with an exhausted sigh, then yanked her skirts to straighten them.
Lavinia giggled.
Edith shot her a glower.
“Sorry,” Lavinia said again, then burst into laughter, doubling over and holding her stomach. If she was truly contrite, she had an odd way of showing it.
“Lavinia!”
She laughed even harder. Her laughter was infectious, and soon Edith couldn't help joining in. She didn't even know what was funny—Lavinia was having a baby and her benefactor might have ended their association—yet they both laughed until tears streamed down their cheeks.
Eventually, their laughter subsided. Lavinia sat on the arm of the chair, offering a watery smile. “I’m truly sorry."
Edith sobered, hesitant to voice her fears. “Is he leaving you?”
