Page 59 of The Trouble with a Dare

“Yes,” she said, sounding irritated. “I assumed you’d not be best pleased if your flock got infested.”

He tsked and shook his head. “She probably just had an itch that needed scratching. For heaven’s sake, love. You might have given birth in the bloody field and for what?”

“To keep your sheep safe, you ungrateful beast!” she retorted.

Sterling let out a sigh. Having her get herself in a tizzy at such a moment was not a good idea. “Sorry, love. I am grateful for the thought, truly. I’m only anxious to keep you safe, that’s all.”

She relented at that, her face softening, but not for long. “Oh!” she cried, her body growing taut as she clutched at him.

“Hold on, love,” he said, hurried her towards the house.

Chapter 19

Dear Miss Knight,

I won a prize for the best essay in the school competition! I even beat the older girls. I never thought I would ever win anything in my life, and certainly not anything for writing. I am so happy I could burst. There is going to be a prize giving next week and Monsieur Le Comte has promised to attend. Please, will you come too? Please, please, say you can.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Agatha Smith to Miss Evie Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight).

29th of January 1840, Thistley House Farm, Sussex.

It seemed to go on forever and ever and ever, until the rest of the world had disappeared, and Grace was the only thing left in it. Her and the pain, that was. Her mind was hazy, and her body seemed no longer her own, but taken over by some force far greater than her, a force that used her flesh as it chose, tearing her asunder. She felt apart from reality, in some strange far-off place, and the only thing that kept her anchored to the world was Sterling. His calm voice, full of certainty and reassurance, kept encouraging her and telling her how well she was doing. His hands were gentle but firm on her, warm and strong and she clung to him, screaming like some wild beast caught in a trap. She cursed and swore and berated him. She cried and sobbed and clutched at him, and nothing she did seemed to overset or disgust him. He just soothed her as best he could and told her it would soon be over. She held tight to the words, wanting to believe them, though she was convinced by now that he was lying. This would never be over.

“She’s coming!” cried an excited voice, though Grace could not tell if it was Martha or Mrs Gladwish, and did not much care. The Queen herself could have walked into the room and she’d not have batted an eyelid, so consumed was she with the job of bringing this child into the world.

“It’s a boy,” she growled through gritted teeth. “Only a male would cause this much… argh!”

Another contraction ripped through her, so strong she felt she’d never survive it.

“Push, Grace! You’re nearly there, my brave girl. Come on, once more.” Sterling’s voice held another note now, excited and breathless. His hand clutched hers, giving her strength. “Come on, Grace, you’re almost done.”

The scream that came from her must have deafened everyone in the room. It went on and on and then there was silence, for just a moment. Another sound then, a high-pitched squall, filled Grace’s ears and made what little breath she had catch in her throat. She gripped Sterling’s hand, gazing at him as he turned back to her with a smile of such wonder that she wanted to cry.

“A girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I told you it would be a girl.”

Sterling gazed down at his wife, holding their daughter in his arms. She looked like a religious relic come to life, a flesh-and-blood Madonna, unearthly beautiful, even with her golden hair all a-tangle about her flushed face. Her eyes were moonlight bright as she gazed with adoration at the babe sleeping in her arms, the child utterly at peace now that the terrifying business of being born was done. His mother was sitting beside them, watching over the two of them as if they were indeed a miracle, her expression soft and full of wonder. She appeared transformed, all the sharp edges smoothed away, and like someone he did not know at all.

Mrs Gladwish had been quietly putting the room to rights, and she left now, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder as she went. He managed a smile for her, and then for Grace.

“I’ll be back in just a moment,” he said, bending to kiss her forehead, and left the room, moving to his dressing room and closing the door behind him.

Somehow, he made it to the chair before his knees gave out. He sat down heavily and put his head in his hands, letting out a shaky breath.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

The past hours had been the most terrifying of his entire life. How he had endured it without letting Grace see how bloody afraid he was, he would never know. Now, all the emotions he had battened down so ruthlessly came over him in a wave of relief and love, and too many tangled feelings for him to pull apart and identify. His eyes burned, and he pressed the heels of his hands against them, trying to contain it all, but a sob escaped him, and his chest heaved.

The child was beautiful. Delicate and perfect, with a fragile dusting of blonde hair. He had fallen hopelessly in love the moment he had seen her, even red and squalling as she’d been. It was overwhelming, this desperate need to protect his family, to keep them safe, and the terrible agonising fear that had bloomed inside him was enough to send him to his knees.

She wasn’t his. No matter how much he wished she was, or how little the fact of her biology mattered to him, another man had sown the seed that had made this tiny life. What if he came back? What if he told people he was the father? Sterling’s heart beat too hard, making him sick with fear even as happiness surged inside him. Grace was alive and healthy, and so was their daughter. Their daughter, he repeated to himself. And God help anyone who tried to hurt them or take them from him. He would never let it happen. They were his now, his to protect and to love, and he would. He would do whatever it took.

Somehow, he got himself under control and wiped his eyes. It would not do for Grace to see him go all to pieces. Whatever would she think of him? He took a deep breath and let it out again, and then another, repeating the process until he was calm again. Then he got to his feet and returned to his wife and daughter.

Grace turned to look at Martha, who had reached out to touch a tentative finger to one tiny, clenched fist.

“So beautiful,” she whispered. She met Grace’s gaze, and a tear slid down her cheek, her throat working. It took a long moment before she could speak, so Grace waited, knowing it would come. “I was too afraid to love him. I was so certain he was going to die, that I’d lose him like I lost all the others. I kept him at a distance, and then… then I didn’t know how to bring him back again. I wanted him to be strong, to be safe and make the right decisions so he’d be happy and not want too much. But he adored his father so much and I—I—”

Grace nodded, her throat thick with emotion. “I know,” she managed, tears filling her eyes too. “But it’s not too late.”