***
George was glad of the short walk across the park. She needed the air and the exercise to clear her head. The afternoon sunlight dappled the grass, filtering through the leaves of the plane trees overhead, throwing long shadows.Tiny daisies were scattered across the lawn, like stars in a green firmament.
The duke had offered to release her from their betrothal.
It was the last thing she’d expected of him. She hadn’t even thought it was a possibility when she’d accused him of being just like his mother.
What an appalling creature his mother must be, to lie so easily and often. She hadn’t so much as blushed or batted an eye when her deception was exposed.
The duke had grown up living with that kind of behavior. It explained quite a lot.
His acceptance of her accusations had surprised her. He hadn’t argued, hadn’t made excuses or tried to bluster his way out of it, taking refuge in anger. He’d taken it on the chin, like a man—and he’d apologized.
A man who could accept honest criticism. A man who could apologize. How rare was that?
And he’d offered to release her, which had really taken her by surprise. After all the trouble he’d taken to trap her in the first place. So the apology must be sincere.
She’d told him to wait, to ask her tomorrow. Why? She was desperate to be released... wasn’t she?
The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves overhead. She shivered, and picked up her pace, almost running the last few yards before she crossed the street and sounded the knocker of Ashendon House.
It was a few minutes before anyone answered and when the door opened, it was by a very distracted-looking butler. “What is it, Burton?”
“It’s her ladyship. She’s started.”
“Started? What— Oh! You mean the baby’s coming?”
He nodded, and without waiting for any more, she hitched up her skirts and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She found Cal on the landing outside the bedchamber he shared with Emm, pacing back and forth like a caged lion.
“Cal, what’s happening?”
He turned an agonized face toward her. “She’s in there.”He jerked his head. “The doctor’s been and gone. He says there’s nothing to worry about. He brought a midwife, and she’s in there with Emm’s maid and Aunt Agatha.”
“I’m going in.” George tried the door, but it wouldn’t open.
“Locked,” Cal said grimly. “They won’t let me in either.”
She nodded. Men weren’t usually allowed to attend their wives’ confinements. But she could go in, surely. She knocked on the door. There was no answer, so she knocked again, louder.
The door opened a crack and Aunt Agatha looked out. Her face was pale and she looked rattled but determined. “Go away,” she said, addressing both of them. “Childbirth takes time, and there’s nothing you can do.”
“Can I come in?” George asked. “I can help.”
Aunt Agatha snorted. “You’d only be in the way. Besides, childbed is no place for an unmarried gel.”
“But—”
Aunt Agatha shut the door. They heard the key turn in the lock.
“But—” George stared at the closed door. She hadn’t ever attended a human birth, but she’d helped deliver puppies and foals; and once she’d come across a cow in labor and had helped a farmer deliver the calf that was turned the wrong way around. She turned to Cal and started to say something, but Aunt Dottie appeared.
“It’s no use, my love. Aggie won’t be budged. She insists that only married women—and servants—attend dear Emm, says it’s not fitting for men and unmarried gels to witness.” She snorted. “I might not be married, but it’s a long time since I was a gel.”
“But she’s never had a baby herself, has she?”
“No, but she puts a lot of store in a wedding ring, does Aggie.” She linked her arm through Cal’s. “Now come along, dear boy—it won’t do anyone any good to wait here, wearing holes in the carpet. Come downstairs and pour us all a drink.”
But Cal wouldn’t budge. “I’m not leaving her. I might not be allowed in there—Aunt Agatha says my presencewill only upset Emm, and I suppose that could be right—but I’ll be damned if I leave her. I’m going to be right here in case she needs me.”
