He was going to be a father again. The notion seemed impossible and yet, he was startled by how much he wanted it. And with Callie.
“Of course, sweet.” He covered the hand that had been plucking at her gown, staying her motions. “You know I am in need of an heir. I had not expected it to happen this quickly, but I am pleased. And I am relieved you are well. Are you still dizzy?”
Sin tried to resurrect memories of Celeste, when she had been carrying their daughter, and he could not. It was as if his mind had obliterated all painful recollections. He did not know what to expect. He did not recall Celeste being dizzy or swooning. But every woman was different. He could only suppose a pregnancy was different for each woman as well.
“Somewhat, yes, and tired.” Her voice was subdued.
It was as if the spirit had been stolen from her.
This faded, weary, quiet version of the woman he had wed weighed down upon his chest as heavily as a stone. “Do you need to rest? A nap, perhaps?”
“Yes.” She nodded, then closed her eyes. “Mayhap a nap would be best. I may have overexerted myself today in my delicate condition, without realizing it. Paying a call to Jo, facing my brother’s outrage.”
Callie seemed…distant. Unlike herself. He did not like it. Earlier, before Westmorland had arrived, before she had swooned and the doctor had been summoned, everything between them had been so different. Now, he could not shake the feeling that something had been severed.
“I am sorry about the scene with your brother. Had I realized you wereenceinte, I would not have countenanced leaving you to an interrogation.” Sin frowned. “What can I do now? Shall I ring for your lady’s maid?”
“Please.” Callie sighed. “Whitmore will know just what to do. She always does.”
The ease with which she would dismiss him rankled. Part of him had been hoping she would ask for him to remain instead. But Sin stood, then stalked to the bell pull.
For the first time in his life, he was jealous of a bloody lady’s maid.
He could not help but to wonder how Whitmore would know what to do when he had not one fucking inkling.
He was going to be a father again.
Bloody hell.
Chapter Twenty-One
Be warned, dear reader. I ruin everything I touch. Sooner or later, I will ruin you, if you let me.
~fromConfessions of a Sinful Earl
Sin was sotted.
So sotted, the walls of the Black Souls club were swirling around him. Churning, dancing, taunting him. The ceiling was a whirling blur. His ears rang with the sounds of his fellow club members laughing and talking. Occasionally, the dulcet giggle of a woman, a smooth voice, joined the din.
He blinked and struggled to focus his gaze upon Decker, who was dressed all in black this evening, from his shirt to his neck cloth, waistcoat, and coat. He looked like he had been torn from the bowels of Hades.
Ironic, that. Sin felt as ifhehad been torn from the bowels of Hades as well.
He struggled to recall why he was here, within four walls he had not inhabited in months. And then it all came rushing back to him in one befuddled mess. His argument with Callie, facing an irate Westmorland, her sudden swoon and the fear it incited, the doctor’s unexpected announcement, Callie pushing him away… Always, always, back toher.
And the babe growing within her womb.
His child.
God, he was elated and terrified and weak in the knees, even though he was sitting down. He was sitting down, was he not? Sin glanced down to confirm, lest he fall on his arse.
“I am going to be a father,” he announced, slamming his glass on the table before him.
Closing one eye, he peered into the empty vessel. He supposed he had drained it. Again.
Blast.
“So you have said, and so I have offered my felicitations,” Decker said. “No less than five times now. Would you care for another whisky? Or perhaps you would prefer another form of distraction?”
