“I know. I’m sorry,” he said without the slightest sign of contrition.
They stayed with Dot and Fred and the children two more days, spending the days walking and talking—with each other mostly, but also with Dot and Fred. She liked Julian’s family very much.
And every night and each morning they made love, never the same way twice, but always gloriously satisfying.
Lovemaking with Julian wasn’t anything like she’d expected. Sometimes it was intense—pure, raw passion—and at other times it was joyful and playful with conversation and laughter. And each morning she woke thinking she couldn’t be any happier. And every day he proved her wrong.
Then on the third day, it was time to return to London and face the music.
“Drop me off at Clarissa’s,” Zoë said as they neared Bellaire Gardens. “I know she’ll want to talk to both of us, and Lady Scattergood might not let you in the house.”
But when they got to Clarissa’s, they found Izzy and Leo as well as Lucy and Lady Tarrant gathered in the downstairs sitting room, looking worried.
“What’s going on?” Zoë asked after she’d embraced everyone.
“Clarissa is having the baby.”
Zoë glanced around. “What, now? Where is Race?”
Izzy pointed. “He’s up there with her.”
“In with Clarissa? When she’s having the baby?” It was quite unheard of in Zoë’s experience. Men simply weren’t allowed in a birthing room, not unless they were a doctor. Or unless they were there to say goodbye. No wonder everyone looked so serious. Was Clarissa expected to die? She didn’t know how to ask it.
But Izzy understood the silent question in her eyes. “No, there’s nothing wrong—that we know of. Race has said from the beginning that he was going to be with Clarissa throughout her labor.”
“Really?” Zoë glanced at Julian, who looked uncomfortable. She looked at Leo. “Did you—?”
“No,” he said hastily. “I didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t have allowed him in anyway,” Izzy said. “I have no desire for anyone to see me in that state. But Clarissa is different. Race has been in there all this time, wiping her brow and holding her hand and doing whatever she wants.”
“How long has it been?”
A scream rang out, and they all fell silent, listening.
“Long enough,” Izzy said. She got up and paced the floor restlessly.
After a few minutes, Leo caught her hand and drew her down beside him. He rubbed her back soothingly and tried to distract them. “So, Zoë, how was your visit?” he asked, but another scream rang out, and they all fell silent again.
Tension filled the room.
They heard a door upstairs open and close. Someone was coming down the stairs. They all ran out to the hall, and looked up to see Race coming unsteadily down the stairs. A high, thin wail floated down. The baby.
“Oh God,” he said. His knees appeared to give way and he plonked down halfway down the stairs. “It’s over. It’s all over.”
They gathered around the foot of the stairs. “Race? Youmean—? Is Clarissa—?” Izzy faltered. Her skin was chalky gray.
He looked up. “Oh, no, no, she’s fine—tired, but otherwise all right. Very happy. They’re just cleaning her and the baby up. She was so brave, so strong. I had no idea…So brave. All you women…so strong.”
There was a universal sigh of relief. The upstairs door opened again, and a nurse appeared on the stairs, carrying a small bundle, which was no longer yelling. “Lord Randall? Would you care to hold your daughter now?”
Without waiting for a reply, she came down the last few steps and placed the baby in Race’s arms. “Oh God,” he murmured, staring down at the bundle in his arms. He loosened the swaddling clothes a little and a tiny arm emerged.
In wonder, Race touched the little starfish hand, and it closed around his finger. “Look at her,” he said brokenly. “Have you ever seen such a perfect little person? My daughter. Look at those little hands, those perfect tiny fingernails. It’s a miracle. She’s a miracle. And my Clarissa is a miracle. And alive.” He looked down at them, his eyes full of tears. “We have adaughter.”
Chapter Nineteen
The preparations for Zoë and Julian’s wedding went on apace. Over the next three weeks banns were called at St. George’s. Julian had been adamant that he could not possibly wait any more than three weeks to make Zoë his wife.
