Lottie wiped a cool cloth across her sister’s brow.
“You would deeply miss Cousin Gabriel were he to leave for Rome, Margaret,” she murmured to her sister. “Besides, Cousin Gabriel must remain here for my wedding.”
Thatgot Cousin Alex’s attention. His gaze snapped to Lottie’s as he released Margaret’s pulse. “Ye are tae marry, my lady?”
“Yes,” Lottie nodded. “I am betrothed to Mr. Theodore Lancet. We are to marry next spring.”
Margaret’s labor continued on. Between her sister’s moans of pain and Cousin Alex’s ministrations, Lottie found herself telling the whole of her history with Theo, from meeting him at her come-out ball in London to fainting over nerves when he proposed.
“Ye fainted, my lady?” Cousin Alex appeared concerned. “Is that a common occurrence for ye?”
“Not particularly.”
“What about Lady Lewis’s ball last year?” Margaret reminded her.
Lottie sighed. “I guess there was that, as well. But the evening was unbearably hot, and I had neglected to eat—”
Margaret gasped and arched her back, letting loose an agonized scream. She pulled at her clothing and half rose, clutching Lottie’s hand and squeezing her eyes shut, as if pushing.
“I need this baby out! Now!” she cried. “I need to push!”
Instead of showing alarm, Cousin Alex appeared pleased.
“Excellent!” He sent his hands under the sheet again and smiled. “I think it is time to bring this babe into the world.”
He positioned himself between Margaret’s legs and crooned encouragement.
Margaret screamed and cursed God, her husband, and the doctor in equal measure.
Cousin Alex merely smiled and complimented her on her creativity.
Margaret swore at him.
For her part, Lottie held her sister’s hand, alternating between horror at Margaret’s behavior, wonder at Cousin Alex’s calm demeanor, and terror that she herself would likely go through this one day.
The process went on and on. The sun dipped toward the horizon.
Margaret’s energy waned.
“So close,” Cousin Alex coaxed, his tone honeyed encouragement. “One more push. Ye can do it, my lady. Ye’ve shown plenty of heart up tae now. Dinnae fail me.”
Margaret lifted up her exhausted head, clenched Lottie’s hand, screamed, and pushed.
And pushed. And pushed.
“Good, lass! Ye can stop now.” The doctor was busy holding something beneath the linen sheet.
A sharp cry rent the air.
Margaret gasped and lay back down, sobbing in relief.
Lottie found tears streaming down her own cheeks.
“Congratulations, Lady Frank,” Cousin Alex smiled, lifting the squalling babe aloft. “Ye have a fine son.”
“Oh!” Margaret cried, pressing a kiss to Lottie’s hand. “I have a son! Did you hear that, Lottie dearest?! A son!”
Cousin Alex wiped off the baby with a spare corner of a sheet, handling the screaming red infant with competent, sure hands, flipping him this way and that. He wrapped the tiny baby tightly with another ripped section of fabric, instantly soothing him.
