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“That’s easy,” Rem murmured. “It was the night I met her.”
“Love at first sight, just like Gray.” Sebastian shook his head. “Isn’t that a bit redundant?”
Gray shot him a look of irritation. “Don’t act as if you weren’t the same the instant you spied your wife’s red hair.”
Sebastian grumbled something under his breath, although Rem noted he didn’t deny the claim.
“If Olivia dies,” the duke spoke in a numb tone. “I shall never forgive myself. Throughout this entire pregnancy, I’ve told her that history wouldn’t repeat itself, that she wouldn’t share her mother’s fate and perish on the birthing bed.” He stared unseeing at his feet on the floor. “I won’t be able to live with the guilt if I’ve lied to her.”
“You haven’t,” Rem said firmly. “Or have you forgotten that one of the best physicians in London is overseeing her care?”
“No,” the duke sat back. “Knowing that Dr. Thierry Haimlin is in that room with her is the only thing that is keeping me sane right now.”
“And,” Gray pointed out, “she is surrounded by the best women that we know. Shewillget through this. You just have to have some faith.”
As another groan ripped through the air, the duke put an arm over his eyes.
Upstairs,Olivia was sitting up in bed in a plain, cotton nightdress. Her blond hair was plaited in a single strand, but the few wisps that had escaped were plastered to the sides of her head as perspiration trailed down her temples.
Isadora hated to see her youngest sister in so much distress, but other than holding her hand at the side of the bed and urging her to keep her breathing steady and pushing when the doctor instructed, there wasn’t much else she could do. Either way, the experience wasn’t making Isadora look forward to the prospect of her own birthing in a few months. But then, Olivia was the one who had been anxious about bearing a child since her mother had died from her birth.
She gave Araminta an anxious glance on the other side of the bed where she was gently wiping Olivia’s forehead with a wet cloth. Her sister gave her a firm nod, as if promising that everything would be well, and Isadora believed her.
Calliope was the one who didn’t appear overly concerned, but then, she was at the foot of the bed with the doctor, acting as his assistant when he required something from the servants. For someone who generally turned squeamish at the sight of blood, Callie was doing remarkably well.
“How much longer… must I… endure this?” Livy panted in between labor pains.
Minty touched her shoulder gently. “Dr. Haimlin said it shouldn’t be long now. You’re doing remarkably well, Livy. He said some women are in labor for days. Your birthing pains only began this morning.”
“That’s long enough,” Livy snapped, and then immediately showed regret for her harsh tone. “Forgive me, Minty. It just… hurts.” Her wide, green eyes turned to her. “I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know, dearest.” As Minty continued to wipe her forehead, Isadora’s heart felt as though it was being ripped from her chest. She had to glance away, so she could breathe normally once more.
As another spasm ripped through Olivia’s body, Isadora sent up a prayer that it wouldn’t be much longer. She wasn’t sure how much more she could endure at this point. But they had all made a vow to be there for Olivia during her lying in and that was what they had done.
After Isadora and Remington had taken their leave of Broxbourne House, they had returned to London. She had gone home to the rented townhouse to a barrage of letters from her sisters, demanding to know if she was well, as it had been weeks since they’d heard a single word from her.
Guilt had washed over Isadora for taking so long to reply, and she had said so when she’d replied to each of her sisters. Rather than replying back with their surprise of her recent nuptials to the Marquess of Osgood, Minty, Callie, and Livy had all shown up on her doorstep one afternoon. Amid a shower of tears and a joyous reunion, Isadora had packed up the house while her sisters had assisted. Of course, she had no more need of the townhouse, as she would be moving in with her husband.
As she’d closed the door, it had been a bittersweet moment for Isadora. And perhaps for her sisters as well. They’d all stood in front of the whitewashed front with its tall columns. One by one, they all linked arms. Much like the day they had said goodbye to Marlington Hall, they now closed this chapter in their lives.
“It’s hard to believe we won’t be together anymore,” Olivia had noted quietly.
“We aren’t leaving England,” Calliope had countered. “We just won’t be under the same roof.” She frowned lightly. “That does seem odd to say it aloud.”
“Indeed,” Araminta had sighed. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I was head over heels in love with Gray, I would have stayed here forever. It was the promise of new beginnings, and a step forward toward independence for women.”
“Just because we’re married doesn’t mean we can’t change history,” Isadora noted. “Remington is encouraging me to continue developing my business dealings, and I fully intend to ensure that, not only does the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals continue to flourish, but I’ve considered starting a union for women of industry as well. It may take some time, but I feel that the right for women to have a voice and flourish in a working man’s world will come to fruition someday.”
Araminta had winked at her. “As long as you are there to lead the charge, Isa, I’m sure anything can be accomplished.”
It was the wail of a baby’s cry that brought Isadora back to the present.
“It’s a boy,” Dr. Haimlin announced proudly. “And a healthy one if his lungs are any indication.”
Olivia wearily leaned her head back against the pillows on the bed and started to cry, but they were happy tears if the broad smile on her face was a hint of her inward joy.
Isadora must have worn a wary expression because Calliope walked over to her and said softly, “He also assures us that Olivia will make a full recovery. There is no concern for excessive bleeding.”
