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“Oh my God,” Eliott said.
Cassie wailed in frustration, “But our people are still here.”
“How long have you been in labor?”
“You needn’t shout at me, my lord,” she said.
“Well?”
“Since early this morning.”
“You stubborn little wretch.”
“Really, Anthony,” Eliott said.
But Cassie laughed.
Becky Petersham was on her feet, tottering a bit perhaps, her voice high and commanding. “Eliott, send a footman for Dr. Milpas. Eliza, help me assist Cassie to bed.”
The earl held up a restraining hand. “No, Becky, since my foolish wife has not had the good sense to say anything, she will have to bear with my attentions.”
He held out his hand to her, but she could not move at that moment, for a contraction ripped at her belly.
“I cannot,” she panted.
“At least you are not so fat that I can no longer carry you,” he said, and lifted her into his arms.
She gasped, and clutched her arms tightly about his neck, for the contraction still gripped her.
“What a Harvest Day you have chosen to give me, cara. Steady, love, I’ll have you more comfortable in a moment.”
“I don’t think you can,” she said.
She was gritting her teeth together to keep herself from crying out when the earl was informed of the carriage accident an hour later.
Becky Petersham wrung her hands in soundless agitation. “What are we going to do?”
“Fetch me Scargill, Becky.”
“What?” she fairly shrieked at him. “Even you should not be in here and now you want another man. Oh, my poor Cassie.”
“She is young and quite healthy, Becky,” he said calmly. “I have a fancy to deliver our babe, and Cassandra, I think, would prefer it in any case.”
His confident words sounded hollow in his mind not long thereafter. Cassie’s hands clawed at his with each contraction, as she struggled to keep hold of herself.
“Why will not the babe come?” he bellowed at last.
Cassie looked up at his face, and there was suddenly fear in her eyes. “Am I to be like my mother?”
“Don’t be a fool, Cassandra,” he said. “You are nothing like your mother.”
Pain glazed her eyes, and she turned her face away, her fingers dropping listlessly from his hand.
“Cassandra! Dammit, you will not give up! Look at me!”
“I am sorry, my lord.”
“I do not want you to be sorry, I want you to show some spirit! Dammit, Cassandra, give me my child!”
