This was both reassuring and true. Genon repeated it to himself as he trotted after the boy to the manor, cursing himself for leaving his horse at the infirmary. Genon had known Ophele from the day she arrived in the valley and had seen her take a tumble or two with his own eyes, never mind the man’s work she had done at the wall. Most people tended to put it down to her cleverness, to manage such hard work so well, but Genon knew how surprisingly tough she was. There weren’t many women who could’ve lasted so long.
His first glimpse of Remin and Ophele only confirmed it. The lord was visibly shaken, but Ophele was propped up against her pillows with an air of patience that told Genon at a glance where the real trouble was.
“Well, well, my lady, let me have a look at you,” he said briskly, straightening up and trying to catch his breath. That damned hill outside the manor and then a lot of stairs at the top of it, and Genon was not in his fifties anymore.
“Nothing hurts,” the duchess said, turning her head at the pressure of Genon’s fingers. She was dressed in a modest linen chemise that tied at the back, and slid out of bed so he could seeher stand, touch her toes, and otherwise demonstrate that there wasn’t a thing wrong with her.
“Nice, clear eyes,” he said approvingly, making her follow his finger with them after she had done these minor calisthenics. And though it was awkward to be examining a lady, a duchess, and most importantly, Remin’s wife, Genon tried not to let it show. Letting himself be embarrassed would only embarrass her, and she needed to trust her physician.
“It was a fall from a horse onto cobblestones,” Remin said severely, watching through narrowed eyes as Genon inspected each vertebra.
“It never hurts to be careful,” Genon agreed. “But I see no injury. A good night’s rest and you’ll be fit as ever tomorrow, my lady.”
“Fit for…everything?” Remin sat down in the chair beside the bed, his big hand covering hers on the blanket. The back of his neck reddened.
“Aye, so long as there’s no pain,” Genon agreed, hiding his amusement.
“And it wouldn’t do anything to…harm a baby, if there was one?” Ophele asked, blushing furiously. “Falling?”
“No,” Genon asked, after an astonished moment. “My lady, do you suspect you are with child?”
“No. Well…” She glanced between them guiltily. Remin looked as if someone had hit him in the face with a brick. “I don’t know. How would I…know?”
“It is harder to tell, as you still have not bled,” Genon said slowly. “Have you been sick in the mornings? Sensitive to smells?”
“No.” Her eyes widened. “Will I?”
“Those are the usual signs of pregnancy, though not everyone has them,” Genon replied, and went to get a chair. Hehad a sudden, dreadful suspicion, and he wanted to be sitting down for this conversation.
“We cannot be completely sure until the babe begins to show,” he said, blunt. “But absent the usual signs—no monthly bleeding, sickness, the obvious physical changes—then we can only assume you are not. My lady, forgive me, but…you do know how youbecomepregnant, don’t you?”
“I…what Remin is…doing?” She dropped her eyes. “Not…specifically.”
Merciful stars.
This possibility had never occurred to him. It was a tricky business, physicking a young lady when all of Genon’s training and experience was with men in general and soldiers, specifically. But this was the most important duty of a lord and his wife, above all others: the getting of an heir to secure the succession. Everyone in the valley would breathe a sigh of relief once this all-important child was born, and ideally a spare afterward, just in case.
But given the many deficiencies in the duchess’s education, it should not be surprising that the lady didn’t know how it was…done.
“…ever told you?” Remin was asking, with a visible effort to pull himself back together. His Grace was having a chaotic day.
“No,” she said, her fingers plucking at the blankets.
“I think it would be best if you discussed it together,” Genon suggested. Really, it only added impetus to something he should’ve done long ago. “Forgive me,” he said, puffing out a breath. “I suppose I ought to say now that this is not my area of expertise. If either of you have a fever, or stars forbid you break something, then I’m your man. But you need a proper healer, my lady, and a midwife too, sooner or later. I’ve delivered two babesin my life, and I don’t fancy trialing a third one with the heir of House Andelin.”
From the stricken looks on their faces, it was clear that this had not occurred to them, either.
“The sooner you start looking, the better,” he said firmly. “And not just for your wife, Rem. This isn’t a military camp anymore. You need real healers, as know how to treat women and children. I’m just a camp surgeon.”
“I need someone I cantrust,”Remin countered immediately, scowling, and Genon gave him a scarred, snarling smile. He knew very well that the Tower was still refusing any support to House Andelin, and their foolishness had been Genon’s very great gain.
“I know you do,” he replied gruffly. “I’ll speak to Juste and Duke Ereguil, to see if we can find a midwife. And I’ll look over their shoulders, if you like. Never too old to learn, and I can at least tell if they’re like to kill you.”
“Do that,” said Remin, so flat that it made Genon wince. This was exactly what Remin would be afraid of. Though the Empire was one of the more enlightened places in the world regarding sex and childbearing, it was still a risky business, even without the chance of someone trying to sabotage it.
“I’ll see if I can’t make you some herbs and tonics, my lady, to tone you up and help regulate your cycles,” Gen said reassuringly. “I’ll see Wen gets them. Easiest to add them to your food each day, and they will do no harm to His Grace if he takes a bite.”
“All right,” Ophele agreed, glancing at Remin for approval.
