Page 4 of Her Honorable Viscount (Noble Pursuits #3)

CHAPTER 4

E dward was miserable.

Dot had denied him again last night at the party, and he finally had to face the truth that she didn’t want him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He wouldn’t force the issue with the woman, and besides that, her brother had not exactly been pleased about the prospect of the two of them together to begin with.

But nor did Edward feel enticed to move on to another.

So, he supposed he would continue to live as he had been.

Alone.

Well, almost alone.

“Edward! Edward, are you here?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. This was the last thing he needed this morning. He had hoped to enjoy his tea and newspaper in peace, but no.

Trouble had arrived. Trouble that went by the name of Michael.

“Michael. Good morning,” he said, setting down his paper, hoping that his brother was here for a simple visit, although deep in his stomach, he knew that would not be the case. “Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

His brother looked at the table before him, at the perfectly placed items around Edward’s setting at the head of the table, before scratching his temple.

“What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock.”

“Huh.”

“You have not been to bed, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“I do wish you would take better care of yourself,” Edward said before continuing, even though it sincerely pained him to say, “You know you are always welcome to stay here.”

Michael shook his head. “No. My place is fine. Just haven’t had a chance to return there.”

“Is there a problem?”

Of course there was.

“You know the woman, the one from Shoreditch, who you visited last week?”

“I visited her brother. Not her.”

“Yes, well…” Michael sat heavily in a chair next to Edward, leaning over and taking a piece of ham off his plate, causing Edward to stiffen.

“If you wish to eat, take your own plate, please.”

Michael ignored him as he also took one of Edward’s biscuits.

“She is with child.”

Edward nearly choked on his back bacon.

“Michael.”

He was pleased with himself for keeping his tone even despite wanting to reach across the table and clock his brother in the side of the face.

“I know.” Michael ran a hand over his face. “It was stupid. But we were in the moment, and I?—”

When he stopped, Edward sat and stared at him. “You what?”

“I thought I could take a chance. Just this one time.”

“And just what, exactly, are you planning to do about it now?” Edward was able to keep a handle on his anger, but each word that emerged was clipped.

“Well,” Michael said, shifting back and forth in his seat, “that is why I’m here.”

“Because you want me to solve this for you.” He stated it as a fact, for that was exactly what it was.

“You paid the brother off before to not say anything about what happened,” Michael said, his hand out in supplication, the scent of alcohol still radiating off him. “Could you not do it again?”

“This is a child,” Edward said, unable to help the ire that now tinged his words. “This will not go away with one payout.”

“It could, though.”

Edward curled his fingers into fists. “Give me time to consider the best option for this.”

“What time do you need?” Michael asked. “This happens all the time. I know plenty of men who throw a little money at the problem, and it goes away.”

“The problem will be a member of our family.”

Michael tilted his chair onto its back legs and scoffed at that. “That’s not exactly how I see it.”

“Well, you should.”

Edward couldn’t help but wonder what Dot would think about the entire situation. He felt she would show far more compassion than most women.

“I suppose I can contact them through the tavern as I did before?”

“Yes,” Michael said, his eyes dancing away momentarily before returning to Edward. “We should deal with this quickly as the brother sent me a note, and he is making some noise about sharing this information in places we don’t want it.”

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. “Very well.”

He had been hoping that today he could come to terms with what to do about Dot, but it seemed he had a far more pressing issue first.

For a man who wanted nothing more than a peaceful, easy, orderly life, it was becoming anything but that.

His every plan was going awry, and he didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

Dot hummed to herself as she prepared her bag. While most women would spend their afternoons calling around in social visits, she would be doing rounds of another sort – to see each of the women in her care.

Her scheduled visits were once a week, and then, of course, if any emergencies came up, she would see them immediately, as long as she was available. If not, she had Magda. The midwife had taught her everything she knew, and now worked in partnership with her and a system for Dot to be contacted in order to keep her true identity secret.

Magda sent Dot urgent messages to the servants’ entrance, where her lady’s maid would bring them to her. Dot discovered any other matters when she stopped at Magda’s on visiting day.

After learning of her activities, her brother insisted that one of the footmen accompany her while she worked. It was annoying, and after the first time the servant had followed her, Dot had realized how nervous he made the women in her care. However, they had come to an understanding. He was to dress in his regular clothing and not his uniform, and once they were close to her patients, he was to follow at a discreet distance.

And never, under any circumstances besides sure danger, enter the premises of her clients.

She had ignored Fitz’s rule to take a servant one night, and look what had happened.

Today, the footman awaited her near the front entrance when she descended the stairs. Dot refused to take her brother’s carriage, preferring to walk, as Soho, where Magda lived and many of her patients resided, wasn’t far.

“Busy day, my lady?” John asked as they began down the street, Dot greeting neighbors she passed.

“We shall see,” she said. “I never really know what to expect, which is the beauty of all of this, is it not?”

John chuckled. “I suppose it is.”

Most nobility didn’t converse with their servants, but Dot was not like most nobility. Why walk near another interesting, kind human and ignore him? It had taken some time, but she had finally convinced John to speak with her as they walked. They both enjoyed the company.

Dot decided to see her regular patients first as she was running slightly behind her self-appointed schedule. All were doing well, requiring a quick check and the odd reassurance. Before returning home, she stopped in to see Magda and collect any messages that had arrived over the past week.

Magda was waiting for her when Dot arrived, a bright smile on her face. She was one of those women whose age was difficult to ascertain, although Dot guessed her to be close to her mother’s age. Her body was strong, her hair always pulled back away from her face in a tight grey bun, her countenance firm yet also gentle with her patients.

“Good afternoon, Dot.”

Dot had made it very clear when she began apprenticing with Magda that she was never to be called ‘my lady,’ but always Dot. She would never want any of her clients to know who she truly was, and she didn’t want Magda to share the information with anyone accidentally.

“Good afternoon, Magda,” she said warmly, stepping into the midwife’s small thatched home. The room enveloped her in comfort with its earthy scents and warmth from the disproportionately large fireplace. Unlike Dot, Magda sometimes saw women here, while Dot always visited her patients in their homes. “Has the week been eventful?”

“Not overly,” Magda said. “A few messages for you.”

She passed her over a small bundle of papers. A couple were from clients who had asked to see her for various reasons. Usually, it was nothing out of the ordinary, but Dot could understand why women, especially those expecting a baby for the first time, were nervous about new symptoms.

“This is interesting,” Dot murmured as she turned over one piece of paper. Unlike most of them, this was written on fine paper, the penmanship practiced, polished, like that of someone from her peers.

So far, she had purposefully kept away from any women who might recognize her. Still, most noblewomen now preferred to hire accoucheurs, which was frustrating as Dot felt many of such men did not properly understand nor see to the care of women.

“Who brought this?” she asked, for no name accompanied the note.

“A boy dropped it off,” Magda said. “A messenger.”

“Hmm,” Dot mused, rereading the note, which said that a new patient would be coming to see her next week, at Magda’s. “Very well.”

Before she could further question the message, a knock sounded at the door. Dot and Magda exchanged a glance before Magda crossed the room to answer it, revealing a harried man pacing back and forth, one hand on a hip, the other flipping his cap over and over until he looked up at the women in relief.

“Thank goodness. We need help. Immediately.”

Dot and Magda exchanged a look.

“Whereabouts?” Dot asked.

The address he provided was one in Mayfair. “That isn’t far from my… destination,” Dot said, more closely inspecting the man waiting. “I can see to the woman.”

She hesitated. “Who needs help?”

“A servant girl, miss.”

Dot nodded. She would just have to keep her cloak around herself if she had to move through any area where the house’s residents might see her.

Even as she rapidly thought through the practicalities, her stomach churned. A servant girl expecting a child didn’t bode for a favorable outcome for the girl. No one would keep a servant with a baby, especially if she were unmarried.

But that was not up to her. Her involvement was to see to the baby’s birth and the mother’s health.

“Very well,” she said. “I will accompany you. You can tell me what you know on the way.”

“Thank goodness,” the man said, visibly relieved, and Dot said a quick farewell to Magda before following the man out. She told John what they were doing, and he nodded, even as concern crossed over his face, for he understood the situation as well as Dot did.

“Tell me what’s happened?” she asked the man.

“One of the kitchen maids collapsed to the floor in great distress. We didn’t know what was wrong, but the cook realized she was with child. That’s when we knew she needed help.”

“How far along is she?”

The man only shrugged helplessly. “I only know there is something amiss. I do not know her well. The baby isn’t mine, if that’s what you’re wondering. She won’t say whose it is.”

“Hmm,” Dot said, for that usually meant one thing – that scandal was involved. “Where is she now?”

“In her bed. The housekeeper is with her.”

“Very well. We’ll hurry.”

She wondered what the servant wasn’t saying, but she supposed she would discover that sooner rather than later.

“Here,” he said, gesturing toward a house once they reached Upper Brook Street in Mayfair. It featured a stately, symmetrical facade of pale brick, adorned with tall sash windows framed by simple moldings. The elegant entrance, just up a short flight of stone steps, was flanked by decorative columns and topped with a fanlight.

It was also familiar.

Dot grimaced. “This is the home of Lord and Lady Carroway.”

“Yes,” he said, looking at her in surprise. “How did you know?”

“I have… been here before,” she said, realizing the servant would have no idea who she was – and it had better stay that way.

He led her in through the servants’ entrance, quickly taking her to the room, although she could already hear the woman as soon as she entered.

“Oh, that’s not good,” the servant said. “They won’t be able to keep this from Lady Carroway.”

“Perhaps she is out,” Dot murmured, hoping the same thing herself.

When she entered the room, it was apparent that the girl on the bed was already in the late stages of labor, and Dot wondered how she had managed to keep this a secret for so long.

After a quick assessment, Dot went to work, asking the housekeeper and the other maid in the room to fetch the needed items while Dot told the girl who she was and why she was there.

“Is everything all right?” the housekeeper asked as Dot knelt at the foot of the bed. She bit her lip.

“Hopefully, it will be,” she said, realizing that this wasn’t going to be as straightforward as she hoped, for when she looked to see if the baby’s head had appeared, she saw a tiny foot instead.

It wouldn’t be easy nor necessarily successful, but she knew what she was doing. She had been trained for this, had attended such a birth before, had seen what Magda had done time and again, and had even done it herself – once.

She just had to stay calm and see this through.

It was what she did, why she was here.

The next few hours passed by in a blur as she did everything she could for the young woman. When she finally delivered the baby and a wailing cry emerged, Dot breathed for what felt like the first time since she arrived.

She placed the baby in the mother’s arms and wiped the back of her hand over her forehead.

She loved this moment in every birth, but it was at these – the ones where the outcome wasn’t a sure thing – that she was nearly overwhelmed by the sense of relief and fulfillment that had all resulted in a positive outcome.

“Thank you,” the young woman – Lucy – said through tears as she lay her head wearily back on the pillow and clutched the baby to her chest. “Thank you so much.”

“You are very welcome.” Dot smiled at her. “I am happy to have been here for you.”

She packed up her things and was about to leave when a figure – one she knew but wished she didn’t – filled the doorway.

The woman’s arms were crossed over one of the most elaborate morning gowns that Dot had ever seen, her face pinched as she held a hand over her mouth and nose as though she was smelling something foul.

Dot lowered her head, hoping Lady Carroway wouldn’t recognize her. She didn’t like this woman – never had. She could only imagine how she would treat her servants based on how she spoke to her peers.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lady Carroway demanded, looking accusatorily around the room, her eyes finally resting on the housekeeper, who was the only one she seemed to recognize, although Dot wasn’t upset about that.

“My lady,” the housekeeper – Mrs. Adams – said, lowering into a curtsy. “I am sorry you were not told of the situation sooner, but there was no time, as Lucy was doing poorly.”

Lady Carroway’s eyebrows rose so high that Dot wondered if they would disappear into her hairline.

“And just who,” Lady Carroway said, “is Lucy?”

Mrs. Adams gestured to the bed, where the girl was almost burrowed into the blankets, so frightened was she.

“She is one of the maids, my lady,” Mrs. Adams said, her voice quiet.

“And she has just had a child?”

“Yes.”

“In my house?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Adams said before clearing her throat. “We were not aware?—”

“Not aware? Mrs. Adams, do you mean to tell me that this woman was under my roof, carrying a child while working in my employ, under your supervision?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Adams said with a sigh.

Ire was boiling in Dot’s belly, and she was ready to tell Mrs. Carroway precisely what she thought of her treatment of her servant.

She would have if doing so wouldn’t ruin everything she had worked so hard for. Lady Carroway was not the type of woman to keep her secret, and if she discovered Dot’s true identity, a scandal would most certainly unfold.

Dot would have to help Lucy some other way.

Even though Magda had always warned her never to get involved in the lives of those she helped.

“Get out of my house.”

Mrs. Adams looked up at Lady Carroway, supplication on her face. “My lady, she has just had the baby but moments ago. Perhaps she could stay the night?—”

“No. Absolutely not. Out.” She turned to Mrs. Adams. “You as well.”

Mrs. Adams gasped. “My lady?—”

“Your job is to keep maids in line. You have failed. You are relieved of your position, and do not come looking for your wages for the past weeks. You have forfeited them with your lack of accountability.”

She nodded in satisfaction at her declarations before she lowered her arms and straightened her gown with a sniff, apparently proud of herself. She turned around, about to leave the room, when she stopped suddenly, her back straightening and her shoulders setting.

Slowly – agonizingly slowly – she turned around, her gaze coming to rest on Dot, who sighed in frustration. Apparently, she had not gotten away unnoticed after all.

“Lady Dot?” Lady Carroway said. “Is that you?”