But as the long hours of the night gave way to morning, then afternoon, Ned could see in the women’s eyes that they were growing worried. One had a child. She understood what was happening. Kate was now in the active throes of labor. Her cries understandably upset her husband, who kept knocking on the door. Ned knew Balfour hated being unable to do anything for his wife. Ned felt powerless as well.
Kate’s body seemed ready for birth, except the child had not dropped. Ned knew Kate could labor like this for days, and it would cost her life and her baby’s—unless something was done. And having too-tired maids for help was not going to be enough. They had stopped their encouragement. They knew what was happening. Fear had silenced them.
Fear. And he was supposed to be the strong one.
Ned knew he had to do something. “I’m going to step out a moment,” he said. Battered by contractions, Kate gave him a weak smile and he took that as assent.
Balfour was waiting right by the door. He was unshaven, and worry gave his face a masklike countenance. He practically jumped on Ned. “What is going on? Does it usually take this long? It’s been almost seventeen hours.”
Mars had been stretched out in a hallway chair, attempting to sleep. He came to his feet.
“Sometimes it does take this long,” Ned answered. “Or longer.”
“How can she continue in pain?” Balfour asked. “Can’t you make her comfortable?”
“Balfour, this is childbirth.”
“I don’t know if I can stand it much longer.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t even know if I believe you if you say it is normal.”
Ned studied his friend for a moment. He hadn’t made that claim. Balfour had assumed and he deserved some honesty. “It will grow worse.”
His friend practically pounced on him. “Nothing is going to happen to her, is it?”
“I’m doing my best to see her through.”
“And you will?”
God, there it was again. That demand for a promise. “Kate is strong. She’sstrong,” he repeated as if words could make it true. “I’m also going to need help.”
Balfour appeared almost pathetic in his desire to be of service to his wife. “Of course. Anything.”
“You need to be here,” Ned told him. “However, Mars?”
The earl stepped forward, almost as eager for action as Balfour.
“Fetch Gemma Estep.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ned was never far from Gemma’s thoughts in spite of her doing everything she could to keep busy.
She told herself she had regrets about turning him away. She was also grateful that he had come to her... that her feelings, especially the depth of them, were not one-sided.He loved her.
And she believed him. After so many betrayals, she hadn’t lost her ability to trust. Who knew that would be such a gift?
She also loved him enough to let him go. To do what was best for both of them.
Even if she and Ned defied convention, if they eloped or ran away, the giving up of dreams that had meant so much to them would hang over their heads.
No, the only option was to do what was honorable. Or so she kept telling herself.
Her only antidote was work. She and Fitz had hung shelves and then she’d finished creating smelling salts with the awakening scent of peppermint. Her soaps were almost ready to be wrapped in paper and string, and she’d put her ointment for joint pain in small tins that Mr. Pointer, the tinker, had found for her.
That man was a godsend. She’d given Mr. Pointer a list of things she wanted and when he had them, he paid a call. Other items had to be ordered in the post, which took forever and was usually more costly.
She’d focused on what she could have, not what she couldn’t. Just as she must with Ned Thurlowe.
Except... he had told her he loved her. Lovedher.
