A Touch of Passion (30 page)

“You were clever and brave to go to him with that solution,” Portia said.

“I was shaking at the time. Anyway, on our wedding night Sebastian learned he had not killed Doogie, and he could have had the marriage annulled. But he knew it would ruin me and my family, so he agreed to a marriage of friendship and respect.”

“The best foundation for any relationship, if you ask me,” Serena put in.

“How would Grayson ever respect me if I tested him by pretending to be mortally injured?”

Beatrice answered Portia’s question. “He wouldn’t.”

Portia sighed. “Part of me wishes I didn’t love him, because then I could move on and find someone who loves the real me, someone who doesn’t want to change me. Is it too much to ask that a man loves me as I am? Sometimes …” Her voice trailed off.

“Go on, finish,” Serena encouraged her.

“Sometimes I wonder if I will ever find a man who can love me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have watched you over the years. A wallflower gets to see many things, after all. Men flocked to you. You’re beautiful!”

“And rich,” Portia added. “Men wanted my purse and my body. I want a man to love me for what’s inside. Grayson, who has known me since I was a young girl, obviously never saw anything he wanted in a woman like me. He offered to marry me for honor’s sake. I thought he finally loved me when we sailed home together, but when that love was tested he fled. He doesn’t love me enough.”

The other women sat in silence, not really knowing what to say. Finally Serena ventured, “It would appear you have several things to ask him. It’s easy for Beatrice and me to sit here offering advice when we are secure in our marriages, but I can remember when my whole world depended on a truthful conversation. I was sick to my stomach.”

“Then I had best eat up, for tomorrow morning I’ll probably not be able to eat a thing!”

“The sponge cake Cook made needs slicing and eating. Look at the strawberries oozing out of the cream.” Serena smiled conspiratorially at Beatrice. “Eating for two has some advantages.”

“I’ll drink more champagne too,” Portia decided. “I need to fortify myself before tomorrow’s heart declaration. He has the power to destroy me if he doesn’t understand who I really am. Maybe I’ll learn that he can never love the woman I am.”

There was a sound at the door, and the women all turned at once. “I’ve always known who you are, and I’ve always admired who you are, and I’ve always loved who you are. I was simply too scared to admit it. But I promise you I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for my cowardice.”

Portia forgot to breathe. Grayson stood in the doorway, his face twisted in pain.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you or made you doubt yourself. Any man would be privileged to call you his wife. I’m sorry for making you think for even one minute that I didn’t love everything about you.”

The other ladies made as if to rise, but Portia stayed them with her hand. “Why are you not with the men?”

“We didn’t wish to leave you here with no protection.”

“The grounds are full of Christian’s men, and the staff are on alert,” Serena interjected.

“True, but it pays to be cautious. Besides, I couldn’t find you earlier.” He looked at Portia. “I searched for you all day. So I decided to stay behind to talk with you … if you have the time.”

Portia’s heart slammed against her ribs. He looked so handsome, and a little bit lost. He was freshly shaved and dressed in her favorite jacket of his, the color a deep forest green that set off his hair. As he pulled at his cuffs, Portia saw that for once he was nervous and unsure of himself.

She wasn’t about to let him think she’d fall at his feet if he simply walked in and apologized. “We were going to test you tonight. We were going to send one of the grooms to the village to tell the men I’d fallen down the stairs and was badly injured.”

His gaze hardened. “I won’t run again. I give you my word.”

Portia nodded, her fists clenched at her sides. “I’ve loved you for years. I’ve waited for you to see
me
since I was sixteen. You can wait until at least tomorrow to have this conversation. The ladies and I have a night of feminine amusements planned.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. “As you wish. How about a ride over the estate in the morning?”

“That would be acceptable,” she answered, her body starting to shake. She saw his shoulders relax, and he let out the breath he had been holding.

“Thank you.” With that he bowed and strode from the room.

The room remained silent until Beatrice whispered, “He looks so earnest. I almost feel sorry for him.”

Portia did too; that was her weakness.
He
was her weakness. She felt exhausted, swamped with conflicting emotions. Her heart wanted so badly to trust him, while her head was wary.

“Let’s forget about men tonight. Let’s talk about babies,” Portia said, smiling at her two friends. “Is the nursery ready?”

“Christian made sure it was ready the minute he learned I carried his child,” Serena scoffed. “It’s Lily I’m worried about. She’s had Christian all to herself and is naturally clingy given that he’s all she has left after her parents’ deaths.”

“That’s not true—she has you too. She adores you. And she’ll adore her brother or sister,” Beatrice said.

“Christian takes her riding most days and always has breakfast with her. Although if the men roll back home tonight from the tavern I’m not sure what condition he’ll be in tomor—” Serena halted midsentence, panic etched across her face. Her face drained of color and she clutched the edge of the table. Portia heard the sound of liquid hitting the floor.

Beatrice was on her feet and at Serena’s side in an instant. “The baby.”

“But I’m not due for another three weeks at least.”

Portia rose and looked in panic at Beatrice. “What do we do?”

“Rouse Cook, and ring for a groom to ride to the tavern and alert Christian.”

“Beatrice, I don’t think food is required—”

Beatrice raised a hand. “She’s a midwife as well, Portia. A very good one. Now go,” Beatrice said. “I’ll get Serena to her room.”

Portia knew how much women endured to reach the joy of motherhood, but standing by so helplessly while her friend screamed in pain was terrifying, because there was nothing she could do but hold her hand and murmur words of encouragement. Was this what Grayson had felt when she was ill?

She would stay strong for Serena. Portia had also made sure Lily was told what was happening. Lily’s room was not far from Serena’s and she would hear Serena’s cries. Portia explained to the young girl that it was just part of childbirth and that her stepmother would be fine. Lily thanked her and mentioned that Serena had talked with her about the birth and what to expect. Lily was worried, but also very excited about meeting her new sister or brother.

As they helped Serena to change and stripped the bed to ready it for the birthing, Portia regaled them with stories about her cider business and the men who thought her cider the best in the world until they learned it had been made by a woman. One man had been buying the cider for his hotel for several months, and then upon learning the owner was a woman, he had decided to pay only half of his bill, as he’d suddenly decided the product was inferior. Portia had turned up at his establishment with men and a cart and demanded full payment, or else they would take the unopened barrels back. He paid her in full that night, and was still one of her best customers.

Cook arrived and spent a considerable amount of time examining Serena, who looked beautiful propped against the pillows in a sheer linen nightgown. Finally Cook motioned for Portia to step outside with her. Beatrice watched them go with a look of concern on her face, but she stayed holding Serena’s hand and chatting about the sex of the baby and whom the child might look like.

“She’s early and the baby hasn’t turned,” Cook explained to Portia in a low voice.

“What does that mean?”

“The baby is facing the wrong way. The head should be down; instead the legs and bottom are. If I can’t get the baby to turn, well … the baby will come out backward, if he comes out at all. The risk of death for both of them is much higher when the babe is not in the correct position.”

Portia’s hand flew to her mouth. Fear inched to every part of her body, and she felt faint.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I’ve tried turning the little one, but I’m not strong enough. I need a pair of strong hands to try to turn the baby, and soon. If Lady Hawkestone goes fully into labor before we turn the baby …”

“Grayson! Grayson is here,” Portia cried.

Cook finally smiled. “I was going to wait for his lordship to return, but time is of the essence, and I have no idea what condition he might be in when he does return. Husbands tend to panic in these situations. Fetch Lord Blackwood—quickly.”

Portia had no idea where to even start. She found Christian’s butler on his way back from the stables, where he had gone to dispatch a groom to find Lord Markham, and asked him to have the staff look for Lord Blackwood and send him to her ladyship’s suite.

After the butler departed, Portia went in search of Grayson herself as well. She went to the library, but he wasn’t there. She made her way to the billiard room, but her spirits sank when he wasn’t there either. She was just about to turn from the room when she spied a trail of smoke coming from the darkened terrace at the far end of the masculine room. “Grayson?” she called.

He stepped through the doorway, cheroot in hand, cravat hanging loose.

“Portia? I thought we weren’t meeting until tomorrow.” He dropped the cheroot on the terrace and ground it underfoot. He stepped further into the room, and after just one look asked, “What’s wrong?” He was across the room in a few long strides, pulling her into his arms, making her feel for a moment that everything would work out.

She burst into tears, hiding her face against his hard chest. “It’s Serena. The baby is coming, and it is facing the wrong way. You have to come and help.”

She felt his muscles tighten beneath her hands. “Has anyone sent for Christian?”

“Yes, but she needs help now. We are not strong enough to help her.” She pulled herself out of his arms, grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward the door. “Come.”

Portia was virtually running up the stairs, dragging him along. He wished Christian were here. He should be here. If Grayson let anything happen to Serena in Christian’s absence, he didn’t know how he would face his friend.

His hands felt clammy and he had no idea how on earth he was supposed to help, but Portia wasn’t stopping to answer questions. As they neared Serena’s suite Grayson’s heart began to race. Portia didn’t even knock but simply burst through the door into the birthing chamber, Grayson close behind.

He skidded to a halt. He didn’t know where to look. He knew his face must have flushed because Serena had a teasing twinkle in her eye. “Who would ever have thought that I’d invite the handsome Lord Blackwood into my bedchamber? Best we not mention it to Christian.” A slight grimace of pain crossed her features before she let out a big breath. She turned to Cook. “The contractions are getting stronger and closer together.”

“Then we need to hurry. Don’t just stand there, my lord—get over here where I can use you.”

Grayson didn’t even think of disobeying Cook’s command, but he was a fish out of water.

Serena gave him a wan smile. “I’m too excited and too uncomfortable to care that you’re seeing me like this. Thank you for coming to help.”

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll do anything I can to help you.” Sounding more courageous than he felt, he turned to Cook. “What do you want me to do?”

Cook had drawn Serena’s shift up to her chest while draping a sheet over her hips, exposing her rotund belly. At that moment Grayson wanted to run, but then he looked at Portia. Her face was composed, and she looked at him as if he were their savior. He didn’t think he could bear it if he let her down again.

Portia and Beatrice stood on either side of the bed, Portia holding Serena’s hand and Beatrice wiping her face with a flannel.

Suddenly Serena’s face contorted with pain and she let out a moan, her whole body racked with spasms. Soon she flopped back onto her pillows.

“Now we work. The baby’s head is here,” said Cook, pointing to the top of Serena’s stomach. “We need to turn the baby so its head is facing downward.”

Grayson hid his look of horror. How on earth was he to do that? “What exactly do you want me to do?”

She took his hands and placed them on Serena’s stomach. “I need you to press on one side as hard as you can. We need to get this stubborn baby to turn around.”

He flashed a look at Serena, then turned back to Cook. “Will I hurt her or the baby?”

“Well, it won’t be comfortable, but there will be no pain for Serena or the little one, and you could be saving this baby’s life.”

Serena raised her head. “I just want this baby safely out of me. Just do it—for me, please, Grayson.”

He drew back and took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and followed Cook’s directions to the letter. He blocked out Serena’s cries, ignored the heat of the room, forgot Beatrice’s anxious expression, chose not to think about Portia’s faith in him, and listened solely to Cook’s directions.

For almost twenty minutes he pushed gently but firmly on Serena’s stomach, pausing each time a contraction overtook her. Finally, Cook was satisfied the baby was in the right position, and suggested Grayson might want to wait outside for Serena to give birth.

Portia showed him to the door and gave him his jacket. Before he left he gave Serena what he hoped was an encouraging smile and she nodded back. Portia followed him from the room, and before he could say a word had pulled his head down and was kissing him soundly on his lips.

“Thank you, Grayson. I will never forget what you did today.”

“I don’t feel as if I’ve done anything, really.”

“You saved Serena’s life and probably her child’s too.”

Grayson merely nodded, and she ran her hand down his chest before disappearing back into the bedchamber. He hoped God heard Portia’s words, and that Serena and the baby would live.