Page 73 of Brigand

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“You must call a doctor.” Ewan stormed from one side of theroom to the other.

“I already did.” Edward frowned. “And will you sit down?You’re making me dizzy.”

“We don’t need a doctor.”

Ewan spun around to gape at Kaitlin. “Are you mad? She justfainted. Women don’t just faint like that.”

Edward nodded. “It’s true. I mean, they might like men tothink they’re fragile but you rarely ever see a woman truly swoon.”

Kaitlin crossed her arms and pinned her husband with a hardglare. “I swooned. And her maid told me she was ill this morning.”

Ewan’s heart hitched. “She was ill?”

But neither Edward nor Kaitlin paid him any mind. Edwardstared at his wife; he paled. As one, their heads swiveled, skewering Ewan withsharp perusal.

“What?”

Edward stood. Bristled. “How’s the wooing going?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How. Is. The. Wooing. Going.” Surely there was no need tospit.

“Terribly.” Ewan raked his fingers through his hair. “Herbrothers are worse than a battalion of trolls. Can’t even get close.”

“I suggest you try harder.”

“I’m trying, but—”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Kaitlin snapped. “You’re EwanMcCloud. Kidnap her again if you have to.”

“That wasn’t me!” How many fucking times did he have to sayit?

“Do whatever you have to do. Just get it done. Propose toher.” Something in the duke’s eyes gave him pause. He turned toward the fire asthe thoughts filtered through his head. Violet had been ill. She fainted. Therewas some reason he should hasten to claim her—

Oh God.

He suddenly felt a little faint himself.

It couldn’t be.

But when he thought back on all the times they’d madelove—he knew it could. “You don’t think…”

“I do.”

Ewan’s knees failed him. He plopped down on the couch andburied his face in his hands. Twin shards of excitement and dread skirled throughhim. If it was true, if Violet was carrying his bairn, she’d have tomarry him.

Kaitlin fixed him with a speaking look. “We’re all attendingthe Grantham musicale tonight. I suggest you put in an appearance as well.”

“And finish this,” Edward added on a snarl.

Oh, he would. He would finish this once and for all.

Chapter Nineteen

Ewan winced as the reed-thin girl dressed in a blowsy gownhit a note that was not quite human. It brought to mind the warbling cry of avixen in labor. He’d winced quite a lot this evening. And not just because thesinging—if one could call it that—had been atrocious.