Page 142 of Aurelia

“What is it?” Aurelia asked, bolting upright.

“I think it is time to call Mrs. Brown. I believe I am finally going to have this bab—” the last word turned into a scream.

Roland, who was a coward in such matters—an odd reaction in a man who was a naturalist, Aurelia always thought—snatched Judith from under the couch and tucked a still-sleeping Erik under his other arm. “I shall summon the midwife and find Gideon,” he tossed over his shoulder, one foot already outside the door.

Several long hours later…

Roland and Aurelia stood together beside the small cradle, admiring the red-faced but healthy little bundle who was currently resting after making her long-delayed entrance into the world.

“How does it feel to be a grandmother?” Roland whispered in Aurelia’s ear, having to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the look she turned on him. He held a finger over her lips, took her hand, and towed her from the nursery.

“You are a wretched man,” she accused once they were out in the corridor, but he could see she was fighting back a smile.

Roland laughed. “I am, I admit it. Grandmama.”

She snorted and they made their way toward their chambers.

“What a relief that this is over and both Celsa and little Ursula are healthy,” Roland said.

“Yes, we will be able to go on our journey with no concerns. I’m sorry they won’t be joining us on our trip south, but they will appreciate this time together.”

“You will still have me,” Roland pointed out.

Aurelia gave him an arch look. “Are you volunteering to accompany me, Judith, and Erik inside the coach instead of riding Frost?” she taunted.

Roland’s jaw dropped. “Er—”

“No. I thought not,” Aurelia laughingly said, and then stifled a yawn.

“You must be exhausted, darling.” Aurelia had stayed with Celsa almost the entire nine hours of her labor, taking only short breaks to eat and have a nap.

“It has been a long day,” she admitted. “But a very good one.”

“Indeed, it has.” Roland had been hoping to end it in her bed, in her arms, buried deeply in her body, but sometimes being a good, caring husband required personal sacrifice. This, he suspected, was one of those times.

And so, Roland stopped outside her chambers and tilted his wife’s face toward his before kissing her lightly on the nose. “As much as it pains me, I will allow you to get your rest tonight, my love.”

“You needn’t stay away. I am not so tired as”—she yawned hugely.

He chuckled. “Yes, I can see how not tired you are.” He kissed her again, opened the door, and laid a hand on her lush bottom to propel her into the room. “Good night, my love.”

“Good night, Roland,” she answered groggily as he shut the door behind her.

Roland had hours ago sent word to Jenks, his valet, telling him not to wait up. And so he undressed himself and quickly washed his face and body in water that had long been cold.

As he slipped between the blankets, he gave a pleasurable moan when he realized that Jenks had put not one, but three bedwarmers beneath the covers.

Roland glanced at the book on his nightstand and then decided he, too, would get some rest.

He had just blown out the candle and closed his eyes when a noise came from the direction of the connecting doors.

“Aurelia?”

“I could not sleep.”

“You will catch your death of cold. Get under here immediately,” he ordered, lifting the blankets.

The mattress sank and he lowered the covers and slid an arm out, giving a pleased growl when he encountered her naked body. “Mmmm, no night rail. I have taught you well, Lady Crewe.” He pulled her small, cold body close.