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Ainsley suspected he’d rather stay with her, and part of her desperately wished him to. But that would be scandalous and ultimately embarrassing when she started shrieking like a bloody fishwife.
Which would be happening any moment now.
“Donotlet anything happen to her,” Royal added in a firm tone to the midwife as he backed out of the room.
“Men,” Mrs. Peters said, after the door shut behind him. “A bloody nuisance at a time like this.”
“Only guid for one thing,” Betty said, giving the midwife a saucy wink.
In Ainsley’s case, there’d been nothing good about it at all.
“Mind yer tongue, lass,” the midwife said sharply. Then she smiled at Ainsley. “Now, my lady, let’s have a look. If ye’re ready, we’ll move ye to the birthin’ stool.”
Ainsley peered at the uncomfortable looking contraption by the fireplace and took a deep breath. “All right, Mrs. Peters. Do your worst.”
When the next contraction hit, she realized that the worst was just getting started.
Chapter Five
Royal caught sight of Lady Margaret thumping down the hall to Ainsley’s room as he came up the stairs from breakfast. Her ladyship had slept through her niece’s ordeal. He admired her insouciance, since he’d been a nervous wreck for most of the night, although he’d done his best to hide that from Ainsley.
Fortunately, the lass had safely delivered her child shortly before dawn. She’d done it with a stoicism that left him in awe. Hovering just outside the bedroom door, straining his ears, Royal had heard very little aside from a few curses and one shriek just at the end. He’d been tempted to charge into the room at that point, as if he could somehow protect her.
A few minutes later, Betty had popped out with the happy news. After thanking her, Royal had sunk down to the floor and buried his face in his hands, sucking in deep breaths and trying to calm his racing heart. The maid had patted him kindly on the head, as if he were a frightened puppy. It had made him feel like an even bigger idiot.
If anything had happened to Ainsley, Royal truly hadn’t known what he’d do.
The midwife had refused to let him see her, leaving him no choice but to retreat to his own bed. After a few hours of fitful dozing, he’d finally given up any real attempt to sleep, knowing he wouldn’t rest until he saw Ainsley.
“Lady Margaret,” he called out. “A word, if you please.”
“There’s no cause to rush,” the old woman said as he joined her. “You’ll strain that leg of yours, and I’ll not be responsible for sending you home a cripple. Lord Arnprior would be most displeased.”
“I doubt it could get much worse, so no worries there.”
“Ainsley told me you spent most of the night walking with her or lugging her about.” She waggled her eyebrows. “And we both know she’s no frail little miss. I shouldn’t wonder if you’re feeling it this morning.”
He was, but he had no intention of admitting it. “I’m fine.”
“You look a wreck. Worse than my niece.”
“I’ll get some rest later,” he said dryly. All in all, his leg seemed of little import, given the questions now facing them.
“How is Ainsley?” he asked. “Is Dr. MacTavish satisfied she’s recovering as she should?”
The physician had arrived only an hour ago, and through the window of the dining room, Royal had just spotted the man departing in his phaeton. He’d taken the quick visit as a good sign.
“He was most pleased with her condition. Despite being pampered all her life, my niece is an exceedingly strong young woman. That’s the Scot in her. She’s just like her grandmother, in that respect. My dear sister, God rest her soul.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. And the babe?”
“Small but perfectly healthy.” She heaved a sigh. “She is a blessing, of course.”
Royal understood her conflicted emotions. Now that there was an actual bairn to deal with, decisions must be made.
“Lady Margaret, I know it’s awkward, since I’m not family—”
“Ainsley doesn’t seem to agree,” she interrupted. “Apparently, she askedyouto take the babe if anything went wrong.”
