She laughed. “He went shooting! He was not a great one for such sport as a rule, except as a courtesy to guests, but whenever my time came, off he went with his gun. Then he would come home to hear that he had another daughter. Not that he ever blamed me, but he was especially pleased when Richard was born. He bought me the diamond parure, if you remember. I only ever got a necklace or a bracelet for you girls. Go on, off you go. Weston is with him, but he is almost as jumpy as Richard is. There is nothing like a lady’s presence for soothing a man, is there?”
Richard seemed to be following Mama’s suggestions to the letter, for Sophia found him prowling about the library in an elaborately embroidered banyan and slippers, a brandy glass in his hand, his nightcap askew on his head.
Weston’s face brightened perceptibly when he saw Sophia. “Shall I fetch you something to eat, madam?” he said.
“Good idea,” she said. “It is likely to be a long night.”
Richard groaned. “It is too early! More than a month, everyone said, but now this fall has set things off and who knows how it will end?”
“We shall just have to await the outcome with patience,” Sophia said briskly. “Getting yourself into a state is not going to help Rowena one little bit. She would be happier to know that you were dealing with the situation with fortitude.”
Richard stopped prowling and glared at Sophia. “Have you ever been in love, sister? Have you ever felt such a connection with another person that your life is immeasurably better when she is in the world, and would be insupportable without her? No, of course you have not. You sail through life without a care for anyone. So do not presume to lecture me about fortitude. There can be no fortitude where Rowena is concerned.”
A tart reply was on Sophia’s lips, but she swallowed it. There was no point in quarrelling with Richard. He was quite irrational about Rowena, and there was nothing to be done about it. Instead, she persuaded him to sit down, and began to read snippets from the London newspapers, which she hoped might distract him. He said nothing, but perhaps the sound of her voice soothed him, for at least he seemed calmer.
Unfortunately, the door was flung open and the duke swept in, full of the tale of how his first duchess had died in childbed.
“It was just the same with Caroline — she started early, and all seemed well, but then—”
“Thank you, your grace, but that is not helpful,” Sophia said firmly. “Rowena is a different person, the circumstances are different and we look forward to a different outcome. Just think, in a few hours’ time, you may be holding the next heir to the dukedom in your arms.”
“I have held four such in my arms,” the duke said tersely, “and now they all rest in God’s arms.”
“Then let us see what God decides to do this time.”
The duke glared at her, unwilling to concede even the slightest possibility of a happy outcome, but a moan from Richard brought him to his senses.
“There, there, boy! You must not take everything I say so literally. Maybe your sister is right, eh? Rowena is a fine, healthy young woman. No need to anticipate the worst.”
“I cannot bear it!” Richard said with a groan. “How much longer will it be?”
That was another question to which there was no answer, so Sophia wisely did not attempt one.
The night passed in painfully slow increments. Never had the hands of the clock moved with so little energy! Richard paced, the duke worked his way steadily through the brandy decanter, Weston hovered anxiously and Sophia read from the newspapers, if only to fill the heavy silence. Even when Charlotte appeared, still yawning, Sophia read on, for it seemed to help. Whenever she paused, either Richard would start up his agitated maunderings or the duke would talk about his first wife, so she plodded on.
Sometime after three by the clock, Mama came in, causing Richard to jump to his feet in an agony of hope and terror.
“She is doing very well, but it is a slow business. You had much better go to bed, Richard.”
“I could not possibly sleep!”
“No, but— Well, never mind. Sophia, what are you doing here? No need for you when Charlotte is here. Off to bed with you, child.”
“Very well, Mama, but you will wake me if there is any news?”
“Of course, but it is not likely to be before morning.”
Richard groaned again.
Sophia handed the newspaper to Charlotte, with the adjuration to keep reading, and went to bed.
***
As soon as he returned to Staineybank, Simon was consumed by his new ideas for the orangery. Or Sophia’s ideas, if he were being honest. She was his inspiration, now. On the journey back from Surrey, he had never had the solitude to gather his thoughts, but now he retreated to his room and began to draw.
He took all his meals there, aided by the ever-cheerful footman, Robert, who brought trays periodically, conveyed Simon’s apologies at the dinner hour, and brought the interesting gossip from below stairs. Mrs Richard had had a fall, he reported first, followed by the good news that she and the baby appeared unharmed. The next morning, almost quivering with excitement, he brought word of the latest developments.
“Started early, ain’t she? Bound to be trouble. Lor’, but the duke’s in a right pother, and who’d blame the poor man? Not me. Mr Froggett says it’s history repeating itself all over again, cos she looks so like his first wife. The duke’s, that is, not Mr Froggett’s. He’s not married. I mean, who’d have the old fussbudget, eh? Poor lady! Shouldn’t be much longer, though. Midwife says it’ll be today. One way or the other.”
