Page 64 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“Well? The doctor needs to know.” He turned back to Stephen, his eyes wide, intense. “I’m telling you, it was unnatural. Cataclysmic.”

Adelaide was crying now, but only because she’d been overwhelmed by her giggling. Vera had to hold a hand to her lips to cover her smile. She knew she had to strive to remain professional no matter the circumstances, but the sheer amazement in Percy’s voice was difficult to overcome. The man sounded equal parts afraid and impressed.

“Lady Salisbury, did you feel better afterward?” Stephen asked.

“Much better.”

“Then the emission served its purpose. If the condition persists, peppermint tea can be very soothing. I’d also recommend avoiding overly spiced or rich foods, as those can make the issue worse.”

“Thank you.” Adelaide nodded, wheezing through the residual laughter and swiping at her eyes.

“See?” Percy waved his hand. “I told you it wouldn’t be off-putting. He’s a physician; he’s heard far more shocking things.”

“Indeed,” Stephen said. “Your husband was right to call⁠—”

“See?” Percy repeated, his eyebrows raised.

“You should never hesitate to call. This is your first pregnancy, and it’s natural that you’ll have many fears and questions regarding your condition.”

“I know I certainly do.” Percy crossed his arms. “It doesn’t help that we live mere miles from the Duke of Canterbury, who lost his first wife to childbirth. In your medical opinion, do you think there might have been environmental factors that contributed to the lady’s death? Was it a mistake to bring Adelaide here?”

“Lord Salisbury,” Stephen said firmly. “It isn’t helpful, as a rule, to mention ladies who have passed in childbirth in front of your wife, who’s on the cusp of such an experience.”

Percy’s wide eyes flew to Adelaide’s alarmed ones. For the first time, he seemed to note how she’d gone a bit pale, how her fingers clutched at the linen sheets in distress. She certainly wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Forgive me, darling. I’m frightened.”

“No more than I am,” she said. “If I can bear the fear—along with getting up a dozen times at night to relieve myself while you snore on, undisturbed—then I certainly expect you to do the same.”

“Of course, darling. I am sorry.”

“Very well,” she sniffed. “You may make it up to me by allowing me to host a dinner party tomorrow night, to welcome Dahlia to the countryside.”

“It’s highly irregular to host a dinner in your condition.”

“And calling our neighbor to tell him of my epic belch isn’t?”

“He’s a physician. It’s not as if I wrote in to report it to the gossip rags. Besides, you must rest⁠—”

“Percy!” She thumped the bed coverings. “If the physician says I’m able to sit at a dinner table—the same way I do every night, I might add—then you aren’t going to be the one to tell me no.”

All eyes in the room turned to Stephen.

Vera bit back a smile—she knew precisely the war that waged inside his head. If he gave the marchioness a clean bill of health, she was going to invite him to a dinner party. Stephen detested dinner parties, Vera well knew. Small talk was difficult for him—he’d rather discuss a new surgical technique in gruesome detail, rather than pretend to be interested in the hat Miss So-and-So had seen in the village shop only yesterday.

In the end, as Vera knew it would, his physician’s ethic won out.

Stephen nodded. “You are quite able to attend a dinner party, as long as you leave every bit of the preparations to the staff and rest quite thoroughly before and afterward. I’d also recommend you don’t serve anything too rich or full of spice, as that might cause you digestive upset.”

Adelaide smiled triumphantly at her husband. “There, do you see? I’m perfectly able to attend, and we both know that is all I like to do when it comes to hosting.”

“That’s not true.” Percy’s chin took a belligerent stance. “You also like to tell the staff what kind of flowers you prefer.”

“Then I shall give Mrs. Penn carte blanche on the matter, just to satisfy you. I won’t even ask if the hothouse roses are blooming. Will that satisfy?”

“Very well, my dear. I will make all the preparations, including extending invitations.” He abruptly turned to Vera and Stephen. “Lord Winthrop, Miss Ashbury, you are invited to an early dinner tomorrow evening. Please be here by five and be prepared to leave promptly at eight.”

“You cannot instruct guests when to leave,” his wife hissed, her expression appalled.