The only twins of Felicity’s acquaintance were the Duke of Blackheart’s sisters. They had made their come out the night before and, although they resembled one another physically, exhibited considerably different temperaments.
“And your other sibling?”
“We have a younger half-brother, Connor. He turned twelve over the holidays.”
Felicity vaguely remembered a few details gleaned over the years she’d known him. Tidbits casually mentioned by Westerley, or perhaps Bethany, or other ladies of her acquaintance.
Axel’s mother had died when he was born, and his father had remarried nearly a decade later. She hadn’t realized the second marriage had produced other children.
“Tell me about your father.” She was most curious about Lord Crestwood. Why would the man speak so insultingly about his own son?
“The earl,” he began, “is highly intelligent, but he is…hard.” Axel stiffened. “He has high expectations for himself and the people that surround him.”
Not my father, butthe earl.
“Are you and he close?”
“No.”
When Axel had pulled her to sit on the bench beside him, he’d taken her hands in his. When she’d asked about his father, his body went still.
“My father and I.” Felicity changed the subject. “Are not as close as we once were.” And then she swallowed hard. “I have no idea what he’ll say about the baby.”
Baby.
Saying the word out loud sent a warm protective sensation shooting through her. It also succeeded in launching a thousand nerves.
Manningham had not been looking at her but staring across the water. He shook his head. “You don’t have to tell him until after we’re married. I’ll speak with him this afternoon.”
“He’ll be at his clubs.” Felicity exhaled. She hadn’t considered keeping her condition from her parents. And yet, it would be much easier to wait until after she was married—until she was already a wife, until her child’s legitimacy was assured—before telling them.
“First thing tomorrow morning then.” He was watching her now and looking somber. “Would you prefer to elope?”
“No.” She couldn’t do that to her parents. They were far from perfect, but she loved them. And her mother would be bereft. “A church wedding. We have time…” She splayed her hand over her belly, and his gaze followed.
He cleared his throat. “Can you feel it?” His question magnified the intimacy of their situation—not only the physical, but also the notion that their two lives would be linked together forever. Eventually, they would know one another better than anyone else.
Wouldn’t they?
“I can’t feel it yet.” But it was there. The idea of it not being there, now that she’d accepted the truth, was something she didn’t even want to consider.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. A particular quality in his voice made Felicity feel safe—protected. She hardly knew him, yet she did not doubt that he was going to make an excellent father.
“The mornings are difficult.” She wanted to be honest with him without going into too great of detail. “My maid, Susan, says it’s typical for the first few months, but I’ll be quite happy to move beyond this phase of my confinement.”
“Have you seen a physician or midwife?” But he dismissed his question before she could answer. “Of course, you have not. I’ll make arrangements. No one needs to know, but I’m going to seek out the best available in all of London.”
So very protected…
She hadn’t expected this relief that came with finally sharing her burden.
“But first—”
“Your father.”
“Yes.”
When silence fell this time, it was a comfortable one. The birds singing in the trees and the water gently lapping along the shore soothed her nerves, which had become considerably frayed.
