My Naughty Minette (Properly Spanked Book 3) Page 22

  “Flounder being the operative word,” said Arlington. “How are you and Warren, by the way? Any thaw in the air?”

  August glanced out the window at the black winter night. “No, not really.”

  “You’ve got to talk to him. By God, the four of us have been friends a long time.”

  August didn’t reply. Yes, the four of them had been friends forever, and August would like to be friends with Warren again, but he couldn’t undo the mistakes he’d made in the past few months.

  “I say, we must be nearly to the inn now,” August said instead. Arlington nodded and dropped the uncomfortable subject of his rift with Warren, because that was the sort of thing a good friend did.

  *** *** ***

  They arrived to Warren Manor at midday, to find the courtyard in an uproar. Minette’s heart jumped into her throat. She recognized the local physician in his dark coat and hat, carrying his bag into the main house. Her Aunt Overbrook’s coach stood by the stables.

  “Something has happened,” she cried.

  August grabbed her about the waist before she could open the door of the moving carriage. “Wait. Let them put the steps down.”

  “Something is amiss,” Minette said. “The servants look terrified. Why is the physician here? What if something has gone wrong?”

  “If something’s gone wrong, they don’t need you falling out of a carriage to make things worse,” Arlington said, peeling her fingers from the door handle so August might pull her back to sit beside him on the seat.

  As soon as the carriage stopped, Minette flew down the steps and ran to the front door. Inside the house, she caught one of the servants. “Has the baby arrived yet? What is happening?”

  “Oh, milady, such a time,” said the flush-faced girl, dropping a hasty curtsy. “Lady Warren is abed trying to birth the child, Lord Warren is pacing around in a panic, and the midwife’s setting up a ruckus telling him to go away. Lady Overbrook is here, and the very best physician from Cowley, the one what saved the Atkins boy last year when he fell under that horse—”

  “How long? How long has Lady Warren been abed?”

  “Hours now. Since last evening.”

  “They are in the countess’s chambers?”

  “Yes, milady, but—”

  Minette left the girl and ran for the stairs. She heard August call her name but she had to go to her friend and ease her suffering any way she could. When she reached the top, she followed the sounds of agony to Josephine’s bedroom. She nearly collided with a maid carrying an armful of bloodied toweling.

  “Oh, no,” Minette breathed. “Oh, please, is she all right?”

  August caught up to her and took her shoulders. “I’m not sure you ought to go in. You heard the maid downstairs. Things are in confusion.”

  “I must go to Josephine. If there is any way I can help, I must do my part.”

  She pushed open the door, to heat and noise and more panicked servants. Her brother stood by the physician, pleading with him to stop his wife’s suffering.

  “What in God’s name do you mean, this is normal?” he shouted. “Is it normal for her to cry and scream and sweat for hours? Why aren’t you doing anything?”

  “Idylwild!” scolded Aunt Overbrook in her high pitched voice. “You are not helping. If you can’t be useful, you ought to go away.”

  The harried midwife and her trio of assistants seemed to share the dowager’s sentiments. The midwife actually pushed Warren aside to apply a cold cloth to Josephine’s forehead as she let out another groan.

  “Let me do that,” said Minette, rushing to Josephine’s side and taking the cloth from the midwife. She tried not to gawk at her sister-in-law’s belly, which had grown enormous since she’d left town. “Oh, my dearest love. I’m so sorry to find you suffering.”

  “Minette, you’re here.” Josephine regarded her with an unfocused gaze. “I’m glad. But I’m afraid I won’t be very—good—company at the moment.” Her last word cut off in a grunt, followed by a ragged scream. “Help me get up,” she said with breathless urgency. “Help me to my feet. I must walk.”

  Warren shook his head. “You mustn’t try to walk, Josephine. Minette, how are you?” He acknowledged her arrival with a distracted kiss. “Mopsy, tell her she must rest in bed.”

  “What does the midwife say?” asked Minette.

  “The midwife says she must walk,” said Aunt Overbrook, “as any lady who’s borne a child will know. I’ve worked in Women’s Charities long enough to know what’s what.” She frowned at her nephew. “Help her up, Warren, and then be gone with you, so your wife can bear your child in peace.”

  Minette stared at her brother. She’d never seen him like this, wild-eyed and frantic, practically in tears.

  The physician cleared his throat as Aunt Overbrook and the midwife labored to help Josephine stand up. “It’s possible that your wife will find this easier, my lord, if you were to absent yourself and allow her to preserve her modesty. You might, er, retire to a distant parlor for a drink.”

  “August,” Minette cried, hurrying back to the door. “Arlington! You must take Warren away from here and get him drunk.”

  “I did not say drunk,” the physician corrected from across the room.

  The two men peeked in, looking rather terrified as Josephine set up another wail. “Come along,” said Arlington, beckoning Warren. “Why not leave this business to the ladies? I believe it’s customary to do so, and they appear to have matters in hand.”

  Warren dug in his heels. “What if she needs me?”

  “The servants will get you,” said August. “Let’s go have a drink, old chap.”

  “I’m not leaving my wife.”

  Arlington and August exchanged glances. “I’ll stay here, just outside the door,” said Arlington. “You go downstairs with Barrymore, and if the slightest need arises, I’ll send someone to fetch you. I swear, I’ll send someone on the spot, or come myself to drag you smartly.”

  “Go on with you,” said Aunt Overbrook, prodding her nephew toward the door. “Let Josephine do what she must, without you fretting in the background. All her strength and attention are needed for this task.”

  Warren gazed in anguish at his suffering wife, now plodding back and forth in her shift, clutching her back.

  “It won’t be long now,” said Aunt Overbrook. “Go await the news of your firstborn like a proper man should.” The stolid dowager finally accomplished what the midwife and physician could not, and banished Warren from the chamber.

  Minette walked beside Josephine, supporting her and sponging her forehead. “What can I do, dear Josie? Please, how can I help you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m so tired. I don’t know if I can go on much longer. I’m... I’m scared.”

  “You must be brave. Aunt Overbrook says the baby will come soon. The midwife is preparing the bedding right now. Isn’t it exciting?”

  Josephine threw back her head and shouted, “I want it out of me.”

  “Of course you do,” said Minette. “And out it shall come, although it’s taking a terribly long time. You’re right to be frustrated, and I think you ought to cry and scream as loud as you like.”

  “They say the first one is the hardest,” said Josephine between pants. “And it’s really, really hard.”

  “Perhaps, but you can do it. You’ve always been so strong.”

  Josephine went to her knees. “I need to lie down again. I need to lie down.” She looked over at Minette, her pain-hazy eyes snapping to irritated focus for a moment. “Your brother did this to me, and I’ll get back at him for it someday, mark my words. I’ll punch him or something. Plant him a facer right on the nose.”

  “I think you ought to. He’s definitely got it coming,” agreed Minette. “I won’t even warn him of your plans. Now take a deep breath, my dear, and rest for a moment on the bed.”

  *** *** ***

  Warren paced the room with such agitation, August could barely chase him down with the cl
aret.

  “Take it,” he said, when Warren tried to refuse him. He put the glass in the man’s hands and led him to a chair. “You’re not doing your wife any favors, you know. Someone’s got to be the calm and steady one.”

  “She’s the calm and steady one.” Warren sat heavily, and then jumped back to his feet. “She’s been at this since yesterday with hardly a complaint, only that endless crying and moaning. You can’t understand what it feels like, watching your wife suffer so.”

  August bit his lip. He believed he did know what it felt like to watch his wife suffer—since he had caused Minette far too much suffering—but it probably wasn’t a good thing to mention now.

  “She’s going to be fine,” he said instead. “She’s an exceptionally strong woman. She grew up in the jungle, you remember, swinging from vines.”

  Warren made a strangled sound, downed his drink in one swallow, then sat and put his head in his hands. “I can still hear her, even with the door closed.”

  “Arlington will come if anything is wrong.”

  “If anything is wrong!” Warren said, looking up again in dismay. “My wife’s been screaming for hours now. Everything is wrong. I’m never, ever bedding her again, I swear it. I’m not touching her. Nothing could make me do it.”

  I used to think that about your sister. Again, words better left unsaid.

  August sat in a nearby chair, and rescued Warren’s glass when it almost fell from his fingers. “Say, when did you last sleep?”

  “I can’t sleep,” Warren said. “Jesus.” He rubbed his cheek and stared at the fire a moment. “How is my sister, Barrymore? I barely said hello to her.”

  “She’s fine. She was anxious to come. She had a feeling that you needed her, that you were not quite well.”

  “I’m not well. I’m damned terrified at the moment.”

  The words were roughly spoken, as if Warren’s throat couldn’t quite work. August reached to pat his shoulder. He wished he could make everything better for his friend, but sometimes one simply had to live through things. Survive until the bad times improved.

  “Thank you for bringing Minette here,” Warren said after a moment. “Josie will like to have her near.”

  “She’s excited to be an auntie, and hold the baby.”

  Warren looked up at him. “Is everything still...better...between you?”

  “Things are too marvelous for words.” August could see some of Warren’s agitation bleed away. A very little bit, but August was glad to give him some measure of relief. “As it turns out, we were always meant to be together. Minette only knew it a good while before me.”

  “She’s devilishly clever.” Warren rubbed his forehead, took August’s glass, and drained it too. “All I ever wanted was Minette’s happiness. For her to feel loved and secure in her marriage. I’m sorry if I behaved like an overprotective arse.”

  “You’ve always been that way about your sister. It’s nothing to apologize for.”

  The men sat in silence for a moment. “Blast and the devil,” Warren burst out. “This is so hard. Waiting is hard. Loving someone is hard. What if the baby dies? What if Josie dies? I’m so afraid of losing her.”

  August identified far too well with Warren. He struggled with the same fears, that Minette would come to harm, or somehow leave him. But the truth was, love was stronger than unreasonable fears or regrettable mistakes.

  “You won’t lose her,” he assured Warren.

  As if on cue, Josephine let out a hair-raising scream. August caught his arm but Warren was already on his feet, tearing out of the parlor and over to the staircase. As August trailed after him, he realized it was all right to be overwrought with love for one’s partner. In fact, it was a wonderful sort of burden, one he’d be honored to shoulder for the rest of his life.

  As they neared Josephine’s room, Arlington held the door open with a smile. “You’re a father,” he said. “Congratulations, Warren. Go and have a look.”

  The men entered the room, which was now full of beaming faces. The previous hubbub had been replaced with quiet, broken only by an infant’s vigorous wail.

  “He takes after Josephine,” Arlington quipped under his breath.

  Josephine looked up at her husband from the bed. She appeared pale, tired, and decidedly wrung out, but she still found the energy to smile. “We have a son,” she said. “He’s gorgeous and perfect as can be.”

  “A son?” Warren walked toward the bed in a daze. The midwife tried to shoo him away but he wouldn’t be turned off. He peered down at the bundle of his newborn heir, then knelt at his wife’s side.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, smoothing back her hair. “How magnificent you are, darling. I’m so proud of you, and so...so thankful.” They put their foreheads together and started whispering to one another as the baby quieted between them, snuggled to his mother’s breast. Love, thought August, was a very powerful and mysterious thing.

  His eyes sought Minette’s. She gazed back at him, a sweet smile tilting her lips. I love you, he thought. I want to lie in your arms, and rest my head beside yours, and drink in your smile for the rest of my life. And if the Lord blessed them with children, he’d be a conscientious father, patient and wise, and kind. He’d nurture his children and protect them from all harm, unlike the father who’d made him. He would be different.

  Because of you, he thought, as he crossed the room to embrace her. Because you taught me how to love.

  Chapter Eighteen: Epilogue

  Minette snuggled closer beside her husband in Somerton’s main parlor. It was Hallowe’en again, but this year there was no grand house party full of guests, no bobbing for apples on the terrace. This year, it was only the Townsends with their daughter Felicity, and her brother and Josephine with little Georgie, now nearly eight months old. And the Barrymores, of course, her and August and the little baby within her, too small yet to show.

  “I say, it’s not the same without Arlington here,” said Townsend, bouncing his daughter on his knee as she drooled on a slice of apple. “I wonder how he’s faring in Wales.”

  “Arlington does well at everything,” Josephine pointed out. “So I’m sure he’s charmed Lord Lisburne and his daughter. The lovely Guinevere is doubtless swooning over his sapphire blue eyes and magnificent mane of hair.”

  “I never knew you were so enamored of Arlington,” said Warren, pretending to be piqued.

  “I am not enamored,” Josephine replied. “He’s entirely the wrong shade of blond to suit my tastes.” Everyone laughed as she ran her fingers through her son’s light-blond hair. Little Georgie was even more tow-headed than his father. When his mother tickled him, his childish laughter set everyone chuckling again.

  “I wonder what she’ll be like,” said Minette. “Arlington’s new duchess. I’ve never met anyone Welsh before.”

  “Perhaps she’ll be with us next Hallowe’en.” Aurelia rescued a bit of apple from Felicity’s chin. “Speaking of Hallowe’en—”

  “We must tell ghost stories,” Warren blurted out.

  “No, it’s Barrymore’s birthday,” said Aurelia with a smile. “And we’ve gotten you a gift.”

  “We have too,” said Warren and Josephine.

  Minette grimaced. She didn’t want Warren giving August any more gifts, since the paddle he’d given him for their wedding—at least a copy of it—was still put to regular use. The past season had provided plenty of opportunities for Minette to try her husband’s patience, resulting in numerous sessions over his lap.

  “You’re all too kind,” said her husband as their friends delivered their brightly wrapped packages. Townsend and Aurelia had gotten him a collection of popular music bound in a handsome leather case, while Warren and Josephine had chosen a polished box and some smartly embroidered handkerchiefs with swirly letter B’s. Thank goodness the man was to have some reasonably embroidered accessories. All her attempts still turned out a mess.

  Minette handed over her present last. Now that he was
a grand marquess, she had bought him a handsome looking glass of tortoiseshell with gold edging. Everyone exclaimed over it as they peered into the mirror together. August kissed her and told her it suited him very well, and that he had wanted such a mirror for some time. She hoped it was true. Even if he didn’t love it, she knew he would pretend to love it because he was ever careful of her feelings.

  “My wife is working on another gift for me,” he said as he bundled up the wrappings, and passed a ribbon to little Felicity. “But it won’t be ready until the spring.”

  Minette smiled shyly as a flush spread over her cheeks. Her husband smiled too and patted her waist, an obvious hint about her condition. Aurelia whooped, Townsend applauded, and Josephine rose to give her a hug. Her brother looked flustered for a moment, but then he smiled too.

  “What perfectly wonderful news,” said Josephine with a squeeze. “And a perfect birthday present, in my estimation, even if Barrymore must wait to have it for a while.”

  “Yes, and there’s so much to do to get ready,” said Aurelia. “The wait will fly by, and before you know it, you’ll be holding your baby in your arms.”

  Townsend nodded. “And a couple summers from now, the lot of them will be tearing around the garden after one another, getting into mischief and pulling the roses from their stems.”

  “Congratulations, sis,” said Warren, “and congratulations to you too, Barrymore. I hope you’re ready to have a bunch of curly-headed chatterboxes underfoot.”

  “Warren!” Minette protested, but she could see the teasing glint in her brother’s eyes. “Who’s to say our children will be chatterboxes? Perhaps they’ll have dark hair, and be quiet and brooding.”

  “Is that what you are?” Townsend asked August as Warren laughed. “Quiet and brooding?”

  “More likely he can’t get a word in edgewise,” said Warren.

  August pulled her closer and grinned at her peevish expression. “Let them laugh. They’re only jealous because they’ve never been able to brood as well as me.”