Page 96 of Maid for the Marquess

I met Maddie’s amused glance.

“At least one of them can be presented in mixed company,” I muttered with a grin, taking a beef sandwich and biting into it, the strong mustard tightening my taste buds.

Maddie laughed and wiped Andrew’s mouth. “He can behave when he wishes to. He is always too hungry.”

We ate and chatted, laughing at the antics of the children, taking in the vistas and enjoying ourselves.

“Papa, can we swim?”

I ruffled his hair. “Not this time. I will take off your boots, and you may wade today.”

“Tomorrow?”

“It is too cold. Soon,” I promised.

I glanced over at my wife. She had been quiet as we ate, and I noticed she barely picked at her food.

“Maddie?” I queried. “Are you well?”

“I am fine. My back is a bit sore.”

She was in a chair I had the servants bring down to the brook. It had plump pillows and a blanket in case she was chilled. A small stool to rest her swollen feet on. I had driven her and the children down in a small cart. But something was amiss.

I studied her. She looked paler than she had earlier. There were lines of pain around her eyes.

“Do you wish to return to the house?”

She waved her hand. “It will ache here or there, my lord. Do not trouble yourself.”

I frowned. She only ever used the title “my lord” if she was vexed or upset.

I leaned closer. “I will trouble myself if I fear you are ill, Maddie mine.”

She smiled and cupped my face. “I am not. Simply uncomfortable for a short time. In a few weeks, that shall resolve itself,” she replied with a gentle smile.

“And I look forward to it. But I dislike seeing you in pain.”

“I am fine. Do not⁠—”

I lifted an eyebrow, stopping her words.

“I am fine,” she repeated. “But my appetite is off.”

“Then nibble. You can eat a substantial evening meal. I know Cook is making your favorite.”

“Lovely.”

I sat back but kept my eyes on Maddie. One thing I had learned in our years together was that she still had trouble expressing her needs at times. She still put herself last—whereas for me, she would always be first.

After we ate, Edward and I left the ladies in the shade and took the children to the brook. As promised, I let Andrew stick his feet in, and his yelp of surprise at the cold convinced Charlotte she did not want to risk it. We retrieved the balls and began a slow, fun game of kicking them, letting my little girl have her chances. She was competitive—another trait she got from me. But after a while, she became tired and stood in front of me, her arms outstretched. I lifted her to my shoulder, where she nestled in with a sigh, falling asleep. I watched Andrew and Edward kick the ball around until Andrew decided he wanted to scale the tree. We watched him as I stroked along Charlotte’s back, her little puffs of air warm on my neck. I heard a shout and turned, seeing Lydia waving frantically. Without a thought, I transferred Charlotte to Edward’s waiting arms and ran over to where Lydia was now kneeling in front of Maddie.

I skidded to my knees in front of her. She was pale, shaking, and grimacing in pain. “Maddie? My darling, what is it?”

“The babe,” she gasped. “It is coming, Alexander. Now!”

I glanced down as she gripped my hands. “My waters,” she gasped. “And the pangs, they are hard and fast.”

I looked at Lydia, who seemed calm. She turned and spoke to Edward. “Help the children into the cart for me, then run to the house. Get the servants to send for the midwife. Tell her it is urgent.” She looked at me. “Lift Maddie to the cart and hold her. I will drive us.”