later, sent either by Jeffers or by her own intuition. “M’lady?” she asked in concern as she crossed to me.
I offered her a weak smile. “I think it would be best to send for Dr. Fenwick. Just to be cautious.”
“O’ course,” she agreed, helping me to my feet. “And in the meantime, let’s get ye to bed wi’ a hot water bottle. I ken yer back was botherin’ ye more than ye wanted to admit.”
* * *
• • •
Late sunlight streamed through the windows, forming patterns across the counterpane when Gage returned. I reclined in bed, half seated, with my head tilted sideways to rest against one of my pillows as I studied the portrait I’d painted of Gage, which hung over our fireplace. I had sketched and painted him numerous times since then, but it was still my favorite. Perhaps because I’d managed to complete it after weeks of inability to paint even a flower correctly, fearing I’d lost the ability to create. Or perhaps because it captured him so perfectly—his good looks, his impressive physique, and his charm, but more importantly, his sincerity, his honorability, and his steadfastness. He was nearly tangible, his vulnerability drawing the viewer toward him and his strength.
Just as the vulnerability stamped across his features drew me toward him now when he entered the room.
“Dr. Fenwick was here?”
“Yes,” I replied, holding my hand out to him.
He hurried forward to perch on the side of the bed, clutching my hand tightly with his.
I smiled gently. “There’s no cause for concern. Dr. Fenwick said the back pain and false labor pains I’ve been feeling are perfectly normal.”
“False labor pains?”
“Yes.” I didn’t protest my reasons for not telling him, especially as the last round had occurred just before he learned about Henry. “He said the baby was turned the wrong direction, which could be causing me the pain, but that he or she will more than likely right themselves before I go into labor.”
His pale eyes searched mine. “Then . . . it’s normal?”
“Yes. Although, he did caution me to take it a bit easier than I have been,” I admitted with a sheepish grin. “Not that I should remain in bed all day, which will only make my labor harder when the time comes. But that I might be putting a bit more stress on myself than I should.”
Though I’d spoken the words as lightheartedly as I could, I could tell from the pale flush rising in his cheeks that they’d caused him guilt nonetheless. “And I certainly haven’t been helping that,” he said with such remorse that my heart cracked a little.
“Oh, no, Sebastian. It’s my fault. You were right. My first loyalty is to you, and I should have told you. If not immediately, then the moment I realized Henry had departed Sunlaws with his brother.”
He squeezed my hand between his. “But I understand why you didn’t. I do. And I didn’t react any better with you than I did with Henry. I’m sorry for that. I just . . .” His gaze trailed away, stamped with pain. “I didn’t want to believe, couldn’t believe it.”
“I know.” Tears filled my eyes as I gazed at his beloved face. “I’m so terribly sorry your father hurt you like this.”
“Oh, darling, I know you are.” He shifted closer, using his thumbs to swipe away the tears spilling down my cheeks. “I don’t know why I keep being surprised by anything my father has done.” He sighed heavily. “I suppose if there’s any blessing in this, it’s that my mother isn’t alive to learn of his duplicity.”
Except I wondered if that was really true. If Emma Gage had truly not known precisely what kind of man her husband was. But I kept those thoughts to myself.
“Did you speak with Henry?”
He turned his head, staring unseeing at the book resting beside me on the counterpane. “Yes, and I listened this time.”
“He’s a good man,” I ventured hesitantly.
“He is.” He lifted his gaze to meet mine. “And in time, I hope we’ll grow close.”
I offered him an encouraging smile. “I know Henry would like that. He said as much to me.”
“Did he?” The note of forlorn hope at the edge of his voice brought on another swell of emotion I tamped down.
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ve invited him to luncheon tomorrow.”
“Good.”
He nodded, as if uncertain what else to say.
“What will you say to your father?”
His expression darkened. “I don’t know. If he were here, I would confront him. But he’s in London,