Page 32 of For a Scandalous Wager (Breaking the Rules of the Beau Monde #3)

CHAPTER 31

A s expected, when the Markhams’ coach arrived, they were met in the drive by an eager butler and a harassed housekeeper. Rochester stood back while Evelyn and her father were ushered into the house. Without looking back, Evelyn followed a maid up the stairs, and Rochester assumed it would be awhile before he saw any sign of her again. He had no idea how long the process of birthing babes took and even less an idea of how long his abbreviated truce with Mr. Markham would last.

Thankfully, the drawing room had been amply supplied with several forms of liquid courage. “Whiskey, please,” he said to a footman. “Mr. Markham, may I bring you one?”

“Two drams if you don’t mind.”

Rochester followed the footman to the bar, thanked him for pouring, and then carried a napkin with the double shot of whiskey to Evelyn’s father.

“I’ll take one,” Winn said as he strolled in, a bit red in the face, dressed in trousers and shirtsleeves. Frazzled at best.

“I’ll get that.” Rochester was up before he had a chance to sit, serving Winn and expecting to play host because he was the only horse not in this race.

“I thanked Evelyn for bringing you. She’s with Adeline now along with Addy’s mother. Addy’s father is waiting in a room upstairs noticeably frayed.”

“You look as if you need to sit,” Rochester said.

“I’m exhausted if you must know. She’s been having pains since yesterday but said nothing.”

Rochester glanced at Mr. Markham. He looked pale and distant. “And the doctor is with her, yes?” He hoped that Winn would put the room at ease.

“Doctor? No. She insisted on only a midwife.”

“What?” Mr. Markham asked. “And you listened?”

“She was insistent. Honestly,” Winn sighed between words. “I’m told she’s doing remarkably well. But what would I know? They won’t even let me in the room.”

“I want to see this midwife,” Markham said, getting to his feet.

“I wouldn’t go up there if I were you. The midwife is an Irish hellion and has taken command of everything, but Adeline adores her.”

“No doctor and an Irish woman?”

Rochester jumped into the fray. “I’m relatively certain that a woman is a woman. I don’t believe they make them any differently in Ireland.”

“He does have a point, Father,” Winn said.

“I expect you’ve met few Irish women. They’re hard-headed and outspoken.”

Winn said, “If that were so, then Evelyn must be Irish as well because she’s as stubborn a woman as I’ve ever met.”

“Evelyn is your mother’s daughter, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find she had some distant relative raised on Irish ale.” As if that were enough said, Markham turned white as a sheet.

“Father, you need to sit. There’s no reason for concern.”

“No? My grandchild is two months early.”

“Well, that may be, but there is no room for catastrophizing at the moment.”

Rochester shot Winn a questioning raise of his brow.

Winn gave a cursory look, then his gaze snapped back as if he had just understood the unasked question. “Rochester, I need your opinion on something.” He motioned for Rochester to follow.

Winn led him to the study and shut the door. “For God’s sake, you’d think he’d have figured it out by now. No doubt everyone else has.”

“Can you be more specific?” Rochester thought he knew but didn’t dare suggest it before Winn admitted it.

Winn picked up a book and nervously shoved it between two books on the shelf behind the mahogany desk, which was littered with paperwork.

“Is this your mess?”

“Yes. And all done today if you can imagine. I think I’m nervous.”

“Do you?”

“Rochester”—Winn pivoted—“I want to apologize for hitting you. I had no right. No proof, and I am the last person who should be throwing stones. Except that she is my sister.”

He obviously spoke of Evelyn. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less of you under the circumstances.”

“What I’m trying to say is something I shouldn’t be saying.”

“If you’ll excuse my abruptness. Is it safe to say the babe is on time?”

“Very.”

“Why don’t you tell your father. He’s not that old, Winn. The man is in his fifties, and I’m certain he’s well aware of how these things happen.”

“I don’t want to embarrass Adeline. It’s my honor in question, not hers.”

“Neither of you is in question. For God’s sake, the two of you were meant for each other long ago. Who could blame you? Least of all your father who is reliving probably the worst day of his life.”

“You’re right. How was he during the trip here?”

“Quiet, cantankerous. But of course, that’s nothing unusual.” Rochester couldn’t help but add that last part. “And nervous, I believe.”

“I’ll speak with him. If you could give me a few minutes.”

Rochester left the study after Winn disappeared. He walked through the foyer, his bootheels echoing off the marble floor, and stood at the foot of the stairs, willing Evelyn to come down. He didn’t see her, but he did see the housekeeper. “Excuse me, ma’am. But I’m looking for Miss Evelyn. May I impose upon you to ask after her and whether she has a moment for a word with Mr. Rochester.”

“I can try, sir.”

She rushed on, and Rochester waited impatiently until he decided to mount the stairs but didn’t dare go any farther than the gallery.

As soon as she appeared coming toward him, his body relaxed into a long sigh.

“How is my father?” she asked in a loud whisper before she reached him.

“Winn is speaking to him right now and reassuring him that everything is as it should be.”

“Good.”

“And is it?” He couldn’t help it; he wasn’t convinced himself. He’d never been in a house while a birth was taking place. The whole thing unsettled him.

“She’s doing splendidly, and she has a wonderful midwife. Not to mention her mother has been present for many a birth.”

“Your father isn’t easily persuaded. He wanted a word with the midwife.”

“Perhaps that’s a good idea.”

“Perhaps it’s not. He’s a man, and these are womanly things.”

“You’re a prude, Dalton.” She chuckled, putting a hand on his cheek.

“Am I? I wager you’re wrong, my dear, and I dare you to give me five minutes to prove otherwise.” He snatched her about the waist, drawing her against his body.

“No need, I’m sure. But I wager I’m correct about the midwife. In fact, I’m going to ask her to reassure my father. She’ll understand.” She tried to pull away, but he pinned one of her arms behind her back and leaned over her.

“First, kiss me. I miss the hell out of you.”

“Can I have my arm back?”

“After the kiss.”

“Rogue.” Her mouth was a saucy pout just before her lips softened over his.

Rochester rejoined the men who were beginning to show signs of wear and tear. Winn paced a track in the nap of the plush carpet, and Mr. Markham, with his thick head of brown hair, looked as if he’d run a hand through it more than a few times. A smudge of gray at his sideburns and strands of salt and pepper usually made him look more distinguished. Today, he looked harassed.

As promised, Evelyn apparently sent the midwife when Rochester spied a tall woman with red hair marching toward the drawing room. He ducked back inside to avoid the storm he saw in her eyes.

“Ever’ one of you can stay right here as I speak.” The midwife directed that statement at Rochester before turning to the room at large. “Men are right simple-minded beasts, so let me make this clear as rain. Yer wife and yer daughter, sir, are quite well. As birthin’ goes, she’s makin’ grand time. We’ll have a babe here soon enough, so if ye’d like to hold the wee one, ye’d best be off the whiskey. I don’t permit drunken fathers or grandfathers near my lady’s babe. Are we clear now? Or do ye think a man could do a better job? Speak up.”

Rochester wouldn’t describe her as a hellion exactly, but he would agree that she had everything under control. After she left, they all let out a collective breath.

“Well, if that isn’t an Irish hellion, I don’t know what is.” Mr. Markham may not have changed his mind on that accord, but he did look a great deal less nervous.

“I heard that,” the hellion said as she marched back into the drawing room. “Mr. Markham, come hold your wife’s hand a bit, if you will,” she addressed Winn.

Winn didn’t look back. He left the room with the redheaded hellion, who, in Rochester’s opinion, was rather pretty.

“She seems to know what she’s doing, Mr. Markham. And she’s a handsome woman for a spinster.”

Markham looked at him sharply. “What makes you think she’s a spinster?”

“Because I can’t imagine the man who could tame her.” He watched Mr. Markham closely as his mouth turned up slightly, and he glanced at the empty doorway.

“You’re a pup, Rochester.” Markham sat back, resting his head against the high-backed chair.

For once, Rochester thought he looked relaxed. Not angry, not irritated, and not worried.

Markham flipped his wrist toward the other chair. “You might as well sit. These things take time.”

Rochester obeyed but didn’t take his eyes from the older man.

“My daughter tells me you’ve invested with Mr. Darrington.”

It didn’t go without notice that Markham called Evelyn his daughter , no doubt to drive home that she was still under his care. “Mr. Darrington and I share the same investment interests, but we are each a separate entity. I’ve found his intuition to be lucrative more often than not, although he isn’t afraid of taking a few risks either.”

Markham straightened. “I hear he’s thrown in with the Belgravia project. And you?”

“The same.” Rochester wasn’t sure what the man was getting at, but he had a feeling his answers were important.

“And that’s where your finances have gone.” He held up a hand. “That wasn’t a question. I’m not so old that I lack intuition of my own.”

Rochester respectfully dipped his head over steepled fingers. “That is the reason for the delay in repaying Cumberland’s fine.”

“Cumberland is my affair, not yours. I take the blame for not consulting Evelyn in the first place. Not that it’s any business of yours, mind you.”

Rochester straightened in his seat. “And would her opinion have mattered? Not that it’s any business of mine,” Rochester repeated the phrase. “Except that I am in love with her.” He cocked a brow as if the two were dueling.

“Oh, dear boy, what you’re asking is if I would have accepted your match. I’m no dolt. Wisdom tends to make walls transparent. Regardless, it’s something we’ll never know since no steps were taken to ask for her.”

Rochester opened his mouth, staring agog at the man who had done more damage than good, in his opinion. “If?—”

“Don’t be a jackass and ask now. Not while we sit here waiting for news.”

“No, I agree. But would you be open to another time?” Rochester’s pulse quickened, suddenly nervous and wanting to know precisely what Markham would say.

“Did I not just say so?”

Rochester grunted the beginnings of several thoughts and then settled on a nod.

“I can’t imagine what you’re living on,” Markham said, getting up for another drink, this time a glass of water. “You want your seven-thousand-pound bank draft back?” Markham threw the words over his shoulder while he poured.

“No, absolutely not. Why would you think so?”

“Because you must be broke. How the hell do you plan on keeping a wife, raising a family”—he flipped his hand toward the ceiling—“and taking care of your father?”

Rochester stiffened at the mention of his father. He ground his teeth until the muscle in his cheek hurt.

“Did you never consider asking me for help?” Markham stood in front of Rochester’s chair, staring him into participating in a conversation he didn’t wish to have.

Rochester swallowed. “Why would I do that?”

“Oh, my living God, dear boy, why would you not?” Markham played a game of eye sabers with him and then shrugged and took his seat again. “Clearly, you’re afraid of me.”

“Well, you are a bit frightening.” Rochester scratched his forehead. “But no, I’m not afraid of you . I’m afraid of losing her .”

They both paused like they’d had the same epiphany.

Then Rochester continued, “Just like you are.”

“Something we finally agree on,” Markham said, staring straight ahead.

“Winn, if you’re going to faint, perhaps you should… oh, another one.” Adeline Markham, fully in labor and actively giving birth, lay in her bed, commanding the room.

Evelyn sidled to her brother and whispered, “Please don’t leave. Not many men get to see this.”

Winn swallowed audibly. “How many births have you seen?”

“None, that’s why it’s so fascinating.” She took Winn’s arm. “You faint now, and I will go straight downstairs and tell everyone what a coward you are.”

“Damn you, Evelyn.” He tried to smile. “You’re right.”

Another moan came from the bed and then a near scream, and Evelyn thought her brother looked ready to strangle the person causing his wife such pain.

With Addy’s mother on one side of the bed, Winn hurried to Adeline’s other side, held her hand, and did exactly what the midwife demanded. He held his wife’s legs. He held her hand. And he held in his own nausea if Evelyn was correct. But no one could hold in their tears the moment a baby’s shriek broke the air.

Evelyn’s cheeks were wet, and her brother was smiling and crying. She’d never seen him cry. Never. And her friend just looked relieved and not just a little in love.

Evelyn tripped down the stairs, pulling off her apron. She handed it to a footman before she passed into the drawing room. “She did it! Oh, Papa, you are a grandfather. Can you believe it?”

Tears misted his eyes, and he barely gulped out, “Well, for heaven’s sake, what is it?”

“Oh, Lord, I forgot to ask.”

She heard the butler clear his voice. “The babe is a boy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Allen. A boy,” she said again to her father, and then she turned to Dalton. “A boy, Dalton. A beautiful baby boy, and Adeline looks as healthy as peaches and cream. A little tired, yes, but she was so brave.”

“Sit down before you fall down,” Dalton said, helping her to the settee while she burst into tears of pure joy. But it was more than that. It was the fear for her father if anything went wrong. It was her own ghosts when she looked at Adeline in pain and imagined her mother in that bed. Oh, but the joy. It was also the joy in that moment and something she’d never forget. She’d hold it in her heart to heal the secret place that hurt. She’d been strong for her father over the years, but now all she could do was sob. Dalton sat beside her and took her in his arms. With his chin on the top of her head, he rocked her.

Through sniffles and the time it took Dalton to produce a handkerchief, she glanced at her father. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he looked in a trance as he watched her. Then he smiled, and his throat convulsed.

“Ahem,” her father cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take the air.”

She moved to stand, but Dalton stayed her. “Let him be, Goose. Give him time for joy and grief.”

She nodded, drying her eyes. “You spent hours down here with him, and I can’t thank you enough. I owe you so much for this.”

“I’m reluctant to say you owe me nothing. There was plenty to occupy our time.”

“What did you talk about after Winn left the room? Or was there silence like in the coach?”

“Some silence, but we had some good discussions. Fruitful ones, I’d say.”

“Oh?” Her voice no longer held tears. Something in her fluttered to life, and she couldn’t wait to hear everything.