Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year. Кэрол МортимерЧитать онлайн книгу.
must go back to Fairlawns.’ Gideon’s brows rose and she added in an airy tone, ‘Not that Anthony will be anxious for me, of course, but he will want to know how things go on here. Send word as soon as there is news, or if you have need of me.’ She kissed her father’s cheek, adjured Gideon not to worry and sailed out just as Colne appeared to announce dinner.
* * *
They sat down at the table in the oak parlour, Gideon commenting that the chamber was so much more comfortable in the winter than the cavernous dining room.
‘One of your wife’s many suggestions.’ The viscount gave a little smile. ‘She has transformed Rotham, Gideon. She made me see how reclusive I had become.’ He looked at his plate. ‘I do not like to eat while she is...’
Gideon, too, was anxious, but he helped himself from the dishes before him and pushed one of them towards his father.
‘Try a little chicken, sir. It could be a long night.’
With a shrug the viscount took a few slices on to his plate, but he ate sparingly.
‘Childbirth is a dangerous time, my son. I cannot help but worry.’
‘Doctor Bolton is a good man. He delivered Gwen’s children quite safely.’ Gideon tried to calm his own fears but Nicky was so small and delicate that it was not easy.
* * *
After dinner Gideon and his father retired to the drawing room. They were informed that Dr Bolton was even now with his patient, so there was nothing they could do but wait. They indulged in a half-hearted game of backgammon and were just setting up the board for another game when the doctor came in.
‘Everything looks to be as it should,’ he announced cheerfully, accepting a glass of brandy from Gideon. ‘Mrs Albury would not have the month nurse here earlier, but I have brought her now. Mrs Moss is very experienced in these matters and Mrs Albury also has her mother to look after her. There is nothing for me to do at present, so I will call again in the morning.’ He drained his glass and set it down. ‘I suggest that you both get some sleep. The child will come in its own time.’
‘May I see her?’ asked Gideon.
The doctor shrugged.
‘Of course, but do not expect a warm welcome—the birthing chamber is the women’s domain.’
Gideon went immediately to his wife’s room. She had been persuaded to lie down and, despite the nurse’s less-than-friendly look, Nicky held her hand out to him.
‘The pains come and go,’ she told him. ‘It is quite natural, isn’t it, Mrs Moss?’
The nurse had retreated to a chair by the fire and was sucking contentedly on her pipe.
‘Aye, lass, you’ve nothing to fret about, particularly with your mother and me to look after you.’
Gideon sat with Nicky until her eyelids began to droop. When he was sure she was asleep he returned to the drawing room, where he found his father sitting in his chair, his eyes on the dancing flames of the fire.
‘Father, why do you not go to bed? You can do no good here.’
The viscount raised his eyes to meet Gideon’s.
‘Are you going to retire?’
‘Er, no.’
‘Then I shall keep the vigil with you, if I may?’
‘Of course.’ Gideon took the chair opposite. ‘I shall be glad of your company.’
Nodding, the viscount rang for another bottle of brandy to help them through the long night.
‘I did not anticipate I should approve your wife, Gideon, given her birth and the circumstances of your marriage, but I do. In fact, I have grown extremely fond of her. She has made herself indispensable here. Not that she ever puts herself forwards,’ he added quickly. ‘She behaves just as she ought and yet, one cannot ignore her.’
‘No, indeed, sir.’ A smile tugged at Gideon’s mouth.
The viscount said quietly, ‘I could not have chosen better for you.’ He shrugged. ‘So her father was French—are we to hold that against her? Your aunt fell in love with a Frenchman, after all.’
‘And paid the price for it.’ Gideon shifted uncomfortably. ‘And my brother, too—’
Lord Rotham put up a hand.
‘It is time we put that behind us. However, what I cannot forget is my wife’s demise.’ He said earnestly, ‘Dominique may be strong, but too many babies will wear her out, Gideon. If you are prey to carnal lusts, then take a mistress, but for God’s sake leave your wife alone, or risk losing her, as I lost your mother.’
* * *
They fell silent. It was not the first time the viscount had told Gideon that a surfeit of love had killed Lady Rotham, that he had been unable to control his passion. Well, that would not be a problem in this case: Gideon did not love Nicky.
Even as the thought entered his head Gideon realised it was a lie. There had been plenty of passion on their wedding night, but since then he had tried to deny that he felt anything for his wife save animosity for her French connections. Now, however, as the clock ticked away the minutes and the night slid quietly and coldly into Christmas Day, he realised how much Nicky meant to him. He wondered what he would do if he lost her, if she died before he could tell her how much he loved her.
* * *
The cushions that Dominique had added to the drawing-room chairs made it possible for the two men to slumber fitfully until the grey light of a new winter’s day filtered through the window. The fire had burned down and Gideon was becoming aware of the uncomfortable chill around his legs when the opening of the drawing-room door brought him fully awake with a jerk.
The butler stood in the doorway, clearly having difficulty in maintaining his impassive countenance.
‘Yes, Colne, what is it?’
The elderly butler drew himself up and announced in a voice that shook slightly, ‘Sir—my lord, Mrs Albury’s maid has just come downstairs and told us that her mistress has been delivered of a healthy baby. A boy, my lord.’
‘And Mrs Albury?’ Gideon held his breath.
A smile split the old servant’s face.
‘She is well, sir.’
Without another word Gideon sprang out of his chair and raced up the stairs, reaching the landing just as Mrs Moss appeared, her arms full of bedsheets. The woman grinned at him.
‘You’ll be wantin’ to see yer new son, I’ll be bound.’
‘And my wife.’
‘Aye, well, she’s exhausted, but no doubt she’ll be pleased to see you. We’ve just cleaned her up and the babe, so in you go.’
Quietly Gideon entered the room. Mrs Rainault was standing by the bed, a small snuffling bundle in her arms. She smiled.
‘Come and meet your new son, sir.’
Gideon glanced at the red-faced scrap, but quickly turned his attention to the bed where Nicky lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. It was limp and cool in his grasp, but she gave his fingers a slight squeeze.
‘We have a son, Gideon. Are you pleased?’
‘Delighted.’ He smiled down at her. ‘But even more pleased that you are well, Dominique.’
Through the fog of exhaustion Dominique noted his use of her name—the first time since their wedding night. With a satisfied smile she slipped away into a deep sleep.
* * *
Dominique’s insistence that old traditions should be revived made Christmas