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PART ONE

Chapter 1

ELIZA

Aix-en-Provence – France during the French Revolution

Lady Elizabeth Foster, Lady Liz to her intimates, sank onto the window seat, hands to her ears, trying to shut out the sound of Georgiana’s screams. Rain hammered against the window relentlessly as her beautiful, incomparable duchess screamed again. Long, loud, and filled with endless pain and agony. She put her face in her hands. Georgiana had been sure that she would not survive the pregnancy. Completely convinced she would die when the child came. Her three other births had been difficult, but this, this was different. So abominably different, and Georgiana, convinced of her punishment, screamed in not only pain, but in fear. Liz was sure of it, and it broke her heart.

She took her handkerchief and scrubbed her face hard. It was unbearable. One couldn’t die just because one felt one should, could one? She needed Georgiana. Needed her desperately. She couldn’t lose her now and didn’t intend to. The life they had was perfect. She could not, would not, lose it.

She brushed the idea aside, gathered her composure, and headed down the narrow, poorly lit corridor to the room where Georgiana lay with anger at her husband, the damned Duke of Devonshire, pulsing through her. She should have been in the splendour of Chatsworth, or Chiswick, with every medical advancement to hand, and doctors and midwives to ensure the birth ran smoothly. For God’s sake, Georgiana was the fifth Duchess of Devonshire. She should have every comfort, every support, just as she had when his children were born. Not be stuck in this mean little house in the middle of a damned revolution. Lady Liz squared her shoulders and went inside.

There were people everywhere in the warm, fetid room, and Georgiana lay on the bed, hair wet, night-rail clinging damply, face red, baby bump stubbornly in place.

‘Come, my lady, just a few more pushes and baby will be here,’ the midwife said.

Georgiana squirmed on the bed, every inch of visible skin sweat dampened, eyes screwed closed, and face a rictus of pain. She gritted her teeth, then pursed her lips, before emitting yet another blood-curdling scream as she bore down. She’d been like this for hours and hours, and Liz could bear it no longer.

Georgiana convulsed and squealed, one arm lashing out, hand flailing, and Bess rushed forward to take it.

‘There, there, my love, almost done, almost there,’ she murmured, but then Georgiana drew up her knees, closed her eyes, tightened her lips, and pushed. As she did so, the doctor sprang forward. Midwives started rushing about, but she held fast to Georgiana’s hand as the screams intensified until the child emerged into the world and Georgiana slumped back sobbing.

‘Am I dead?’ she murmured, voice tear thick. ‘Is she dead?’

The birthing people gathered the babe up and hunched over it, so Bess gathered Georgiana close, holding her against her chest, weeping herself as she stroked her beloved face. She snatched up a clean cloth and touched it to her brow gently.

‘You are not dead, my love. Not dead at all. Can’t you see me? Feel me? I am here, and I will never let you go.’

The midwife held the babe as they cut the cord, but still there was no sound. Bess’s heart was thudding in her chest as she waited and prayed.

‘Is she dead?’

‘Hush now.’ She dabbed at her face some more. ‘It might be a boy. We can’t see yet and whatever it is, it will be fine and healthy, just as you are.’

‘This will be my punishment. I know it.’

‘Darling, don’t talk that way, please…’

A cry rang out. Loud, lusty and demanding.

Georgiana opened tear-filled eyes and struggled out of Bess’s arms. ‘Give her to me,’ she croaked, trying to sit up.

‘We need to get the afterbirth Your Gr… my lady…’

‘Do what you need to. Give the child to me. I need to hold her.’

‘Is that wise, love?’ Liz’s heart was breaking along with her voice.

‘Is it a girl?’

‘It is, my lady.’

‘I knew. I knew she was a girl. Give her to me now.’

Liz watched as the staff exchanged awkward glances but did as they were bid. Georgiana was, after all, a duchess. People obeyed when she asked for something.

Bess helped her to sit up against the pillows so the child could be on her chest.