A fleeting second later, he felt her mouth come down on his in a light kiss. There was hesitancy in her lips, as if she were afraid to show any affection to him. But before he could kiss her back, she pulled away.
He said nothing, and her hands moved away from his shoulders. She was waiting for him to say something, he knew. But the silence hung between them, deepening the rift.
Then, out of nowhere, he confessed the truth. “Katherine was going to have another baby when she died.”
When he turned to her, Amelia’s face held shock. Though she appeared as if she wanted to say something, she waited for him to go on. David didn’t know why he’d said it, but once he’d begun telling her, it became impossible to stop. “She had a…wasting sickness. A cancer, they told me. One moment she was fine, and then it struck her so fast. She was in such pain, but she tried to hide it from me.”
“You were there for her.” She took his hand, as if to reassure him. “And I imagine that brought her comfort.”
“I never knew she was expecting a child when the sickness hit her. She…kept her body under the covers for many months. Even the doctor didn’t know. Katherine fought so hard to live, and it was only in her last hour that she told me.”
His eyes burned, and it felt like acid was burning the back of his throat. “She—she thought they could cut the baby from her and save it. But I knew she would die if they did. The child couldn’t have lived anyway, since she was only a few months into the pregnancy.”
Tears were rolling down Amelia’s cheeks, and she squeezed his hand tightly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I let both of them die,” he said. “She took her last breath in my arms, and when the doctors tried to save the child, in case there was a chance, my son was already dead.”
He wanted to grieve, to release the harsh pain that he’d buried deep. But he didn’t want Amelia to see the weakness. It had been six years—far too long to think of it now. But his son would have been running around, perhaps learning to ride his own horse.
Amelia drew her arms around him, and she whispered, “You mustn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could do.”
He knew it, but it didn’t assuage the raw emptiness. It was easier to embrace the silence, to lock away any emotions.
“Sometimes I wish I could have given myself in their place,” he said. “If I hadn’t given her another child, she might have been strong enough to overcome the sickness.”
“You couldn’t have known it would happen.”
“No. But I blame myself, nonetheless.” When Amelia moved back, he admitted, “I never wanted you to endure something like this.”
Her face held sorrow, and she added, “Do you regret this marriage?”
He did. But not because he hadn’t wanted her to share in his life. It was because he’d reached the end of his strength. He had no love left to give, and if anyone deserved to be loved, it was Amelia.
“I wish I could be a better man for you,” was all he could say.
His answer brought a flush to her cheeks, and she looked down at her hands.
Christine began to toss her head in her sleep, and her breathing suddenly turned into gasps. He didn’t know what was happening, but he ordered Amelia, “Go and fetch Dr. Fraser. Now!” He shoved her out the door, praying to God that his daughter would live.
Chapter Fifteen
They fought to save her. Amelia’s feelings were raw and bruised as the hours went on through the morning. She heard Dr. Fraser barking out orders to the servants and to David. When she asked Juliette if she should return to the sickroom, her sister shook her head.
“Leave Paul to help her. He’ll do whatever he can, I promise you.”
Her niece Grace was whining to her mother, raising her arms. “Up, Mama.”
Amelia lifted the little girl instead, and the moment she did, Grace began playing with her hair. She seemed distracted by the task, and when she went to sit down, Grace remained on her lap, twisting the long strands.
“Sit still,” Grace ordered. “I do it.”
The young girl continued plaiting and tangling the strands, and Amelia glanced up at her sister. “If Christine dies, I’m going to Edinburgh with you. The earl won’t want me here.”
Her sister didn’t ask questions, but the sympathy in her eyes made Amelia feel even worse. “All right.”
She let Grace continue to play with her hair until the little girl lost interest. After a time, Juliette took her daughter away, andAmelia stood. At last, she ventured up the stairs to find out what had happened to Christine. It had gone quiet, and when she reached the hall, she saw her husband standing outside the room, his head bowed. Both of his hands rested upon the wall, and from his posture, she suspected the worst.
“Is she—” She couldn’t bring herself to voice the fearful question.
