“Some would say it is the duke’s decision.”
“I am sure they would. But the duke will not be carrying the baby for nine months and risking his life to bring it into this world, will he? I have said it before, and I’ll say it again—when it comes to childbirth, nobody’s opinion is worth asking on the matter except the mother’s. Certainly not the father’s!”
Madeline gave a wry smile. “I imagine you think that it’s unnatural, a woman not wanting a baby.”
“Tosh. Nothing unnatural about it. Most women do, to be sure. I did after all. But we are all different, and there’s no getting around it.”
Madeline exhaled slowly, a little surprised at the weight that had lifted off her shoulders.
“I like babies,” she confessed after a moment. “And in my mind, I always imagined myself as an old woman with children around me.”
Joan tilted her head. “Is it the childbirth you fear?”
“I don’t know,” Madeline murmured. “I don’t know what I fear. But I imagine I would make a poor mother.”
“Now,thisI won’t stand for,” Joan chuckled. “You sit here, soaked in sweat and steam, having spent hours already caring for this delightful little child. You can hardly call yourself a bad mother, or even an ordinary one.”
Madeline bit her lip. “I cannot call myself his mother.”
“Then what should you call yourself? What is this if not motherhood?”
Madeline found that she had no answer to that. Adam stirred in Joan’s arms, cooing softly. There was no rattle in his lungs, or if there was, it was negligible. His eyes were brighter, althoughhis temperature still fluctuated. The night wasn’t over yet, but Madeline was beginning to believe that the worst was over.
A foolish thing to think, she reminded herself grimly.The worst is never over, is it?
At that moment, she heard the echo of horses’ hooves out in the courtyard. Taking Adam from Joan and holding him close, she got up and moved to the small window set deep in the wall. It was securely closed, of course, to keep in the steam, and Madeline was obliged to wipe away the condensation before she could peer out.
Below, Tristan came cantering across the courtyard. It was hard to see from so high up—and with the steam causing more condensation to cover the window almost straight away—but she could see that Tristan was alone. He was grim-faced, too.
He didn’t glance up, and soon trotted out of view. Madeline was suddenly tempted to fling open the window and wave. She wanted him to look up, to look ather. She wanted him to look at her the way he had before, when she wore that glorious green dress, and he stared as if he wanted to eat her up altogether.
But that would be entirely selfish. An open window would letoutthe steam, which the maids had toiled so tirelessly to build up with their endless buckets of hot water, and would letinthe cold.
She pulled back from the window, where the steam was less intense, and moved back toward the middle of the washroom.
Joan was watching her thoughtfully.
“His Grace must have returned, then?” she remarked.
Madeline frowned. “Yes. How did you know it was him, and not the doctor?”
Joan gave a low chuckle. “Because I saw your face.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Never mind. Would you like me to take the baby for a little while?”
Madeline shook her head, cradling Adam close to her. “No, I’ll keep him for now. Just… just a little while longer.”
CHAPTER 18
Mrs. Stibbons had not been at home. She was off in a neighboring village, visiting her daughter. That meant that Tristan’s frantic ride had been for nothing. On the mad dash home, he thought a good deal about the time he’d wasted, coming back to the same thought over and over again.
It was no longer a thought at this point, but more like an instinct, thrumming through his veins like blood. Fear.
What if the child is dead?
Illnesses progressed quickly, especially in infants.
