Callie was already carrying his child?
It seemed impossibly soon, and yet, they had been married for nearly a month. She had not had her courses in all that time. It had scarcely concerned him, so besotted had he been with his wife. Sleeping with her in his bed each night, making love to her until they were both limp and sated, had become commonplace. He had not stopped to contemplate the possibility she could be with child so soon.
“As I said,” Dr. Gilmore spoke again, piercing the haze that seemed to have settled upon Sin’s mind, “it is early. But all indications suggest that you will indeed be an uncle, Your Grace. And you, Lord Sinclair, will be a father.”
A.
Father.
Those two simple words nearly knocked him to his arse. The notion of an heir had been distant and removed. Indistinct. Unlikely, even. He swallowed against a knot rising in his throat. Terror and elation struck him at once, rendering him immobile and speechless. He could say nothing. Could not move. He stood there like a fool, until at last his reluctant brother-in-law broke the spell.
“You ought to go to her, Sinclair,” the duke muttered. “You are her husband, after all.”
Sin did not miss the bitterness lacing Westmorland’s words, particularlyhusband. Part of Sin was pleased Callie’s brother seemed to be every bit as protective of her as she was of him. The bond between brother and sister was undeniable. Ultimately, it had been what had driven Callie into Sin’s arms, into his bed, had made her his wife.
He nodded, feeling as if the heavens had fallen upon his head. “Go to her. Yes. I shall.”
Sin moved toward his wife’s chamber, but paused, his fears still rising like the ocean’s tides. “You are certain she is otherwise healthy, yes?”
“Yes,” Dr. Gilmore affirmed with a nod. “Her ladyship is in excellent health.”
Relief pummeled him like a fist. There was a rushing in his ears he had not experienced since the day he had seen Celeste’s lifeless body, enshrouded in her coverlets, in that selfsame room. It was little wonder he wanted Callie to spend each night in his own chamber. There remained so many ghosts haunting this home, hauntinghim.
But there was also hope, astonishing and brilliant and equally petrifying.
He barely found the presence of mind to thank the doctor—Westmorland’s personal physician, of course—before entering his wife’s chambers. He found Callie seated on the chaise longue she had so recently selected. She smiled when she saw him, but the smile did not reach her eyes.
The Duchess of Westmorland rose upon his entrance, giving Callie a brief, though warm, embrace. “I shall leave you to visit with your husband. Send for us if you need anything, and visit when you are feeling well.TanteFanchette is returning to Paris soon. You must not forget to call. She is missing you.”
“I shan’t,” Callie reassured her sister-in-law with a grateful smile. “Thank you for sitting with me, Isabella. You are the sister I have always wanted, and I am so happy to see you and Benny together at last.”
“You are the sister I have always wanted as well.” The Duchess of Westmorland smiled wistfully before turning a frank stare upon Sin. “Lord Sinclair, you are, of course, most welcome to join Lady Sinclair in her visit. In fact, I insist you do.”
The fierce, golden-haired duchess was not what he had expected. She was formidable. A beauty in her own right, but in spite of that, undeniably…unique. He would wager she kept Westmorland on his toes. Sin liked her. He liked that she cared for Callie. And he liked that she appeared more willing than her forbidding husband to give him a chance.
He bowed. “It would be my honor, Your Grace.”
The duchess smiled. “Please, we are family now. You must call me Isabella.”
Oh, yes. Far more willing to give him a chance.Thank God.“Isabella, then.”
She cast a quick, questioning glance from Callie to Sin, then back to Callie. “I shall leave the two of you alone to discuss what Dr. Gilmore discovered then, shall I? Westmorland and I will see the both of you soon.”
Sin waited until his new sister-in-law had excused herself from the chamber and the door had closed behind her to go to his wife. She was still pale, and she looked very much unlike herself.
He hated that.
He seated himself on the edge of her chaise longue. “How are you feeling, sweet?”
“Shaken,” she admitted with a wan smile. “I had not thought enough time had passed since we wed, but Dr. Gilmore assured me that it had. You have heard the news?”
He swallowed. Nodded. “I have.”
She bit her lower lip, worrying its lush fullness. Her right hand fretted with the fall of her skirts. “You are pleased, then?”
Pleased. Shocked. Panicked. Terrified. Elated.
Any of those would do.
