Page 2 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

Securing the smooth box under his arm, Alan glanced once more around the familiar room; then, raising his chin, he turned and strode out of the room to face his destiny.

Chapter One

May 1817

Kersey Hall, Essex

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I—Owww.” In the grip of an exquisitely painful contraction, Maria, Lady Kersey, squeezed the already mangled hand of her cousin Jane, Lady John Tarkington.

“Stop talking and breathe, Maria.” Jane smiled at her through clenched teeth, wiggling her fingers against the death grip.

“You’re almost there, my lady.” Mrs. Middleton, the village midwife, looked up at her, a fine sheen of sweat on her brow.

The birthing room had been prepared for the delivery, the windows closed off, dark coverings erected over every wall, so the fireplace and the myriad candles burning gave off incredible heat. The airless chamber was suffocating, though by now Maria had ceased to care.

“I’m going to need you to push with the next one.”

“I’ve been pushing forever as it is.” Lying on her left side, Maria had been instructed to draw her legs up toward her stomach, a position she’d been in for several hours. Comfortable at first, her body now seemed ready to split in two. The pains were almost constant, one long, searing cramp after another. “When is this going to end?”

“Very soon, my lady.” Leaning forward, the midwife, a local woman from Kersey Village, shifted Maria’s stained and sweat-soaked nightgown away from her body.

“You’ll have your son in your arms before you know it, Maria, and you’ll forget all about the ordeal.” With her free hand, Jane wiped a cool sponge over Maria’s hot skin. “Trust me. I know.”

Her cousin should indeed know. She had birthed four children in the years before her husband had been killed at Waterloo. How on earth had she managed it? Right now, every inch of Maria’s body seemed on fire. If she survived this nightmare, she’d never have another child as long as she lived.

Gritting her teeth in preparation for the coming pain, she forced herself to think only about her son. The one duty she had left to accomplish for Alan. Her husband was dead—she still could scarcely take that in. There was so much she’d had to endure the past month, from the disagreeable effects of late pregnancy, compounded by the shocking discovery that Alan had been unfaithful to her, to the equally stunning news of his death less than a month ago. Anger had fought with despair the past few weeks, leaving her exhausted, morose, and weak even as her time had drawn near.

Pain seized her belly, threatening to tear her apart, and she sat up in the bed, shrieking.

“Push, my lady. Now. A big push.” Face eager and intent, the midwife crouched closer at the end of the bed.

“Nooo.” The sharp agony in her belly mirrored the one in her heart. She’d loved Alan, and he’d betrayed that love in the bed of another woman. When she’d learned of it she’d wanted only to die. Perhaps now she would get her wish.

“Almost there, my dear.” Jane had disengaged her hand and now slid an arm around Maria’s shoulders, steadying her when all her strength seemed to have drained away. “Just a bit longer and your baby will be here.”

Her baby. Hers and Alan’s. He’d been so pleased as her pregnancy had progressed. So proud to have sired a child to carry on after him. Despite her fury at Alan’s betrayal, she owed it to him to bring his son safely into the world so the Garrett line could continue here at Kersey Hall.

Another pain swept through her body, forcing a cry from her lips as she instinctively bore down. There was a moment of pure agony, then Maria sagged back against the pillows.

“Good, Maria, good.” Jane smiled as she peered over at the midwife. “I believe that did the—”

A piercing wail cut off Jane’s words. Maria raised up as Mrs. Middleton stood, the shrill squalling continuing to emanate from the swath of white cloth she carried. “Well done, my lady. Very well done, indeed.”

Her heart beating strangely as the woman crossed to the head of the bed, Maria stared helplessly as the woman placed the wiggling bundle into her arms. The baby’s red and wrinkled face below a shock of almost black hair ceased its crying for a moment and stared directly at her, its eyes round and blue. Maria’s heart melted. Every inch of her exhausted body pricked with excitement, her pain forgotten. “Oh, look at you. You are so beautiful, my love.”

The baby opened its mouth and screeched anew.

“He’s likely hungry, my dear.” Jane bent over, adjusting the pillows so Maria sat more fully erect. “Why don’t you put him to your breast?”

Smiling broadly, unable to take her gaze from her son, Maria nodded and Jane adjusted her nightgown, opening the placket at the neck. Carefully, Maria moved the baby to her nipple and gasped when he latched on with a vengeance.

Jane smiled, pushing a stray wisp of hair out of her face. “Oh, he’s a grand one, Maria. Not all babies catch on so quickly.”

“It’s quite, um, startling, isn’t it?” The baby’s deep pulling on her breast was a strange, yet satisfying sensation.

“You’ll get used to it quickly, my lady.” Mrs. Middleton had finished cleaning up evidence of the birth and was washing her hands at the basin. “It helps your body heal itself from the childbirth.” She shook her hands, then grabbed a piece of clean toweling to dry them. “And the longer you have the child at the breast, the longer it’ll be before you’ll conceive again.”

The midwife turned white, Jane gasped, and Maria clenched her jaw. The pain of Alan’s death, mixed with the equal anguish of his infidelity, shot through her. Her body tensed and she flinched, as from a blow. The movement pulled her nipple out of the baby’s mouth and he set up another hungry wail.