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Before the argument could continue, both men caught sight of a shrouded figure moving toward them, a big female figure. They turned to Aloria as she approached.

“My lords,” she greeted. “I have just come from Lady Jordan’s rooms. She is packed and ready.”

“She is going to have to wait until morning,” Paris said firmly. “She will not be departing this night.”

Aloria nodded, glancing at the carriage. “She will be traveling in that? Well and good.”

Paris glanced at the carriage as well. “By damn, if she is going to have the babe on the road, then better to have it in a firm shelter,” he turned back to Aloria. “Will you be going with her?”

“Byron and Analiese are to accompany Lady de Wolfe,” she replied. “I will stay here and assist Sylvie with Lady Hage.”

Satisfied, Paris nodded. “How is Lady de Wolfe faring?”

Aloria shook her head. “Staunch and determined, I am afraid, to go to London,” she said sadly. “God himself could not keep her from going. She will not even go and visit Lady Hage because she is afraid her cousin will try and talk her out of this madness.”

“Jemma must be having fits,” Kieran muttered to Paris. “Well, I suppose I had better go and calm my wife down before she has that baby sooner than expected.” With a brief nod to Aloria, he was gone.

Paris and Aloria stood silently for several moments. Aloria cleared her throat softly. “Is the baron truly dying, my lord?”

“I am told so.”

Aloria sighed sadly. “She lives for him, you know. ’Twill surely kill her if he dies.”

Paris stiffened. “Nay, she will simply learn how to live without him. As we all will.”

Aloria stood there another moment or so before giving Paris a small curtsy and excusing herself. She was a few feet away when she suddenly stopped.

“Captain,” she faced Paris hesitantly. “In spite of my rough beginning here, the baron was never anything less than polite to me. I am truly sorry to hear of his fate and I will pray for his soul.”

Paris’ jaw began ticking again. “If you must pray, madam, pray for him to live. Pray that he lives to see his son.”

With an uncertain nod, she was gone. Paris, suddenly feeling very tired, turned back to the carriage. All that was needed was a fine team of horses. Ah, yes, he thought, forcing his fears down, I know of just the team.

To keep his mind occupied, he went on to select the steeds.

By dawn, the carriage was ready with an escort of fifty heavily-armed men. After saying goodbye to his tearful wife, Kieran went to Jordan’s chambers to retrieve her. Paris was there, sitting grimly at the foot of Jordan’s bed while she cinched up her smallest traveling bag.

Paris was not a happy man, but he had resigned himself to the inevitable. Kieran, not happy either, waited politely until Jordan was finished.

“There,” she turned to her husband’s second-in-command. “Ye can take that bag and put it in the carriage with me.”

Kieran nodded, picking up the bag. “Are you ready, Jordan?”

“Aye,” she replied, then passed a glance at Paris. “Wait for me in the bailey, please? Paris will bring me out.”

Kieran left with the bag, leaving Jordan alone with Paris again. When the room was empty, Jordan eyed the captain of the troops, knowing how guilty he was feeling.

“Paris,” she said softly. “I am sorry ye canna go with me. I wish ye could.”

“So do I,” he replied, looking up at her. “I would give anything to see William again and to keep you from harm, as I promised him.”

She smiled, moving close to him. Her huge belly was in between them, brushing against his arm.

“Kieran will take good care of me,” she said softly. “Paris, there aren’t words enough to thank ye for what ye have done. Ye have been my very best friend for the past few months and I am going to miss ye.”

As he looked back at her, he realized just how much he was going to miss her as well. He had become so accustom to being with her constantly that he was already beginning to feel a little lost. He reached out and took her soft white hand.

“I will miss you, too,” he was embarrassed that his voice sounded tight.