Audrey rejoined the ladies in the drawing room after dinner. She had to assure them all, especially Horatia, that she had merely been shocked at the news she’d heard. She was seated on the couch, watching the ladies catch up on their gossip. Usually she enjoyed being in the midst of those circles. They often laid the seeds for what would eventually turn into stories for her Lady Society column. But instead she was, for lack of a better word, moping.

She was such a fool to let her heart yearn for a man who kept pulling away from her. And she couldn’t help but think of what would happen tonight. Would he come to her room if she didn’t go to his? He just might.

Her sister eased down onto the seat beside her, carefully leaning back a little so she could rest. “Audrey.”

“Yes?”

“Is everything all right? I’m worried about you.” Her sister covered one of her hands and squeezed it delicately.

“Worried about me?”

“Yes. I thought you and Jonathan would be, well, making an announcement soon. I’ve been doing my best to help you both along.”

She laughed bitterly. “I’ve noticed. But he and I together? That will never happen.”

Horatia’s eyes widened. “Why not? I knew you were attracted to him, and Lucien says he was quite infatuated with you.”

“Lucien is mistaken. Jonathan finds me nothing more than a childish, naïve nuisance.”

Her sister suddenly grinned. “I can assure you he doesn’t think that.”

Audrey couldn’t believe she was having this discussion. She’d helped her sister and Lucien fall in love, just as she had many others; she didn’t need to be told whether a man was interested in her or not.

Horatia reached up and brushed a lock of Audrey’s hair from her cheek. In that moment, Horatia reminded Audrey very much of their mother. She’d been a child when they’d been orphaned, and most of her memories had faded, but she could never forget their mother’s kind eyes.

“Men are complex creatures,” Horatia said. “Sometimes they fight their desires for the silliest of reasons. Lucien didn’t think he deserved me, and he was so worried about Cedric.” Horatia paused, frowning. “Well, I suppose he was right to be worried about our brother. But my point is, if Jonathan is treating you a certain way, it may be because he feels unworthy or afraid to be loved. You mustn’t give up.” Horatia embraced her as best she could, given her swollen belly. Audrey hugged her back, knowing her sister was trying to be helpful, but she didn’t believe her.

“I am lucky to have you as my sister.” Being so young, she had often looked to Horatia as a mother, even though Horatia had only been fourteen and Audrey twelve. Cedric had essentially become their father. And now both her siblings were married, with children of their own on the way.

“You mustn’t say such things!” Horatia wiped at teary eyes. “Ever since I became with child, I cry at every little thing.”

Audrey giggled. “I’m sorry!”

Horatia suddenly winced and clutched her stomach. “Audrey - you must fetch Lucien. I think…oh dear…” She looked down and turned red as a ripe strawberry. “Fetch Lucien now!” she rasped. Fear, stark and vivid, glittered in Horatia’s eyes.

Terror swept through Audrey. Something was wrong, something with the baby.

Oh no, please no. It’s too soon!

“I’m not leaving you. Gillian!” Audrey waved her friend over, and the maid reached them, her face pale.

“The baby is coming, isn’t it?” Gillian asked.

Horatia whimpered. “Yes. Been having pains all day… But now my water has broken.”

“Water?” Audrey asked, not understanding.

“Stay with her,” Gillian ordered. “I’ll find Lord Rochester.”

“I need to get upstairs and lie down.” Horatia rose from the couch, and Audrey supported her. Every woman in the room watched Horatia with concern, and many offered to help her upstairs. As they moved through the corridor, Audrey kept talking to her, trying to keep her calm.

“Don’t worry. The doctor will be here before you know it. Everyone will be so excited to meet the baby. What a fun way to start a house party!” She hoped her sister wouldn’t hear the false note of cheerfulness in her tone.

“But he’s early,” Horatia whispered. “Too early.”

“Yes, but he will be fine, I’m certain of it.” Audrey shifted her arm around her sister’s waist as they reached the top of the stairs and then walked to the door of her chambers. “Should you lie down?”

“I don’t know…” As if driven by instinct, Horatia lunged for her bed. “Yes, yes, I need to lie down for now.” She moaned as she experienced another pain. Once they had her lying down on the bed she managed to relax, but each time she experienced a new pain she would thrash, lean forward, and huff out breaths before crying and falling back into the pillows. Audrey knelt at the side of the bed. She gripped her sister’s hand, terror still rippling through her, but her sister didn’t seem to notice.

Gillian found them a minute later, a pair of maids following on her heels. The maids worked quickly to help Horatia out of her gown and her stays.

Horatia panted in open relief. “I can breathe…finally.”

“Jonathan has gone for the doctor. Lord Rochester is outside.”

“Bring him in!” Horatia gasped. “I don’t think I can face this without him.”

Audrey took Horatia’s hand, holding it. Lucien rushed in with Charles behind him. What was Charles doing here?

“James is fetching hot water, clean cloths, and a blade,” Gillian announced.

“I think I need to get up.” Horatia slowly slid off the bed, crouched, and groaned. Lucien gripped one of her hands and placed his other arm at her lower back. She panted and puffed before relaxing. Audrey hovered near her, wringing her hands. She wished she knew what to do to help.

“Does it hurt much?” Audrey asked. She knew it had to, but she was trying to get her sister talking and thinking on something other than the birth.

“Ah!” Horatia squeezed Lucien’s hand.

Lucien winced. “God’s teeth! Where does a woman find such strength?”

“I think it’s safe to say it hurts a great deal,” Charles said to Audrey. “Why don’t you see if we can’t get some chips of ice or cold cloths soaked in water?”

“Right.” Audrey looked to Gillian. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, my lady, I can fetch them.” She hugged her friend—maid or not, Audrey didn’t know what she would do without Gillian by her side.

“Thank you.”

“I think I need to lie down,” Horatia gasped. “Catch my breath.”

Lucien helped her lie on her side. Then she groaned and rolled onto her back, her legs parting. A maid rushed to cover her legs with a blanket. Charles approached Horatia in the bed.

“Lucien, did you have a birthing chair prepared?” Charles asked.

“No, we weren’t ready.” Lucien’s pale face scared Audrey. What the devil was a birthing chair? It sounded like a medieval implement of torture.

“That’s all right.” Charles looked at Horatia. “You can lie on your side for the birth if you want to. If you feel the need to push, push,” he instructed. “If you need to get up again and move about, we’ll help you.” Audrey couldn’t help but be struck by Charles’s tenderness. He’d always been the most roguish of the League, the one with the darkest secrets, yet here he was, open and kind to Horatia, doing everything he could to keep her calm.

Lucien sat down beside his wife, stroked her hair back from her face, and held her hand. He murmured words of support to her, and Charles stood on Horatia’s other side, holding his pocket watch in one hand and Horatia’s wrist with his other.

Gillian returned and spoke to Charles. “James and some maids are having what we need brought up.”

Charles sighed wearily. “Good. Because the babe is coming fast. The doctor may not arrive in time, and we shall need to be ready to deliver the child without him.”

Audrey stared at Charles. “All of us?” There was no way she could help. She got faint at the sight of blood.

Be strong. You have to help Horatia through this.

“Audrey, you must stay,” Horatia pleaded, then tensed with new pain.

“Of course I will,” she promised, and swallowed hard. Blood be damned, she was not going to faint.

Charles pocketed his watch and then looked at Gillian and Lucien. “There’s very little time between her pains.” He pressed upon Horatia’s face and forehead. “Horatia, have you been feeling pains all day?”

Horatia bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. I thought the babe was restless and kicking. I didn’t know what was coming, not until just after dinner.”

“That’s all right. Babies sometimes come without warning. How are you feeling?”

Horatia glanced at him. “Like I need to push…” She groaned, her body bowing forward slightly, then she relaxed and faced Lucien, panting. “The nursery, you finished the cradle? Do they have the clothes ready?”

“Yes,” Lucien promised and pressed kisses to her hand. “I should have known you were ready to have our child so soon. How did I not see it?”

He bowed his head.

“Know? How could she know?” Audrey asked Gillian in a low voice.

“Some women intuitively know when the baby is coming and try to get everything ready. It’s a bit like birds when they start constructing the nest in spring.”

“Oh.” Audrey stared at her sister. Had she had some inkling that the baby was coming? Why hadn’t she rested? Or told Lucien to send for the doctor just in case the baby came?

Gillian touched her arm, hoping to comfort her sister. “It will be all right.”

“Horatia, if you feel the need to push, then push,” Charles said. “Gillian, I need you here.”

Audrey stepped back, watching and wondering what she could do to help.

Charles pointed to Horatia’s legs.

“Pull down the blanket and watch her for me. Keep her legs open; I’ll tell you what to look for. Normally a woman would deliver on her side, but I think Horatia is more comfortable on her back.”

“Yes, my lord.” Gillian knelt in front of Horatia’s legs and peeled the blankets away.

Audrey couldn’t move; her heart was beating so hard it seemed to silence all other sounds in the room. She couldn’t lose Horatia, not like this. She couldn’t. Tears burned her eyes as she struggled to stay focused.

“I’m frightened.” Horatia tried to close her knees, but Gillian kept them open. Gillian then looked to Lucien.

“Distract her, my lord. That might help.” Gillian sound so calm. How could she be calm at a time like this?

“Distract…?” Lucien muttered, and he stroked Horatia’s face. “Remember that night at the Midnight Garden when we talked about the stars?”

Horatia laughed, even though the sound was tense. “Yes. I remember I felt so safe with you.”

Lucien chuckled. “You are safe, very safe. You know I’d do anything to protect you.”

Horatia hissed with fresh pain and glared at Lucien. “You did this to me! Oh!” She clutched her stomach, whimpering, and then relaxed.

Audrey watched her sister and Lucien with her heart swelling with both love and concern. Horatia panted and gazed at Lucien. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I know you only want to help. I would do the same for you.”

“I know, love, I know. And you’re very safe right now. Charles knows what to do, and so does Gillian.”

“Tell me a good story,” she begged Lucien.

Lucien beamed. “Did I ever tell you about the time when Cedric and I were caught sneaking back into our residences at Cambridge one night? We could barely walk from the night’s revelries, and we were dragging a small statue of Sir Isaac Newton, which we’d stolen from another college…”

Audrey watched her sister and Lucien, her heart torn between the love she felt for them both and a sorrow that she would never know this kind of love herself. At least my sister has it, of that I am glad.

Horatia relaxed, and everyone in the room took a deep breath. When Horatia bent double in pain again, Gillian watched for the baby.

“I see it! The babe!” Gillian cried out. Relief flooded through Audrey, and she sucked in a breath. The burning pain in her lungs eased. It was almost over. It had to be.

“Good.” Charles crouched over the bed beside Horatia, gripping her other hand.

“Lucien, hold her hand. Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

Charles used his other hand to brush his knuckles over Horatia’s forehead. “Now, Horatia, push when you can push, and push hard. Time matters now. You’ve been in labor too long, and we don’t want the child to become stuck. It may suffocate.”

“Suffocate?” Horatia and Lucien both hissed in alarm.

“Yes, so you’d better bloody well push!” Charles growled.

Horatia screwed up her face and cried out as she pushed.

Audrey pressed herself against the wall by the door. A knock sounded, and she was thankful for something to do besides watch. She wrenched the door open and found James standing there, towels, a pitcher of water, and a knife in his arms. Audrey gestured for him to come inside. He paled.

“I don’t think I should—”

“My sister does not care,” she said, cutting him off. He entered, his eyes downcast with modesty.

Charles took the knife from James. “Be ready to catch the babe, Gillian.” Audrey moved back to the wall, James joining her. He felt as out of place as she did. Gillian finally pulled the baby out from underneath the tent above Horatia’s legs. It was a tiny little thing, unmoving and a little bloody. Audrey’s legs began to buckle.

Gillian glanced around. “I need a towel.”

James moved, handing Gillian one of the towels he’d brought. Charles took the knife and cut the fleshy cord while Gillian assisted. Audrey’s vision dotted as she slumped against the wall.

“Is it all right?” Horatia asked, her voice weak. “It’s not crying…”

Charles took the baby from Gillian’s arms. The room was quiet, and the baby’s soft sounds could be heard, little struggles for breath. James leaned over the baby, next to Charles.

“Come on, little one, breathe. Fight.”

Audrey’s heart broke as her sister started to cry. Lucien’s face kept turning between his wife and his child. Audrey bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.

Please, let the baby be all right, she prayed.

“Come on,” Charles growled, peering down the child. “Come on, breathe.”

The baby suddenly pinched his face and let out a hearty cry. Audrey choked down a sob of relief.

“If he’s able to scream like that, I’d say he’s got a fighting chance.” Charles smiled as he walked over to the bed and leaned against the bedpost, still carrying the child in his arms. Then, once he felt they were ready, he handed the baby to the anxious parents.

Audrey’s legs shook hard as she wiped away her tears. She collapsed against the wall, her head suddenly feeling light.

“He?” Lucien asked.

“Yes, the child’s a boy. You’re a father.” Charles grinned. “And I just won ten pounds off Jonathan.”

Jonathan had wagered on the sex of her sister’s child? When she recovered herself, she was going to have words with that man—after she strangled him!

“Damnation, that means I owe Godric at least thirty,” Lucien grumbled. “I was certain it was a girl. Only girls can cause this much trouble.”

Her sister dropped her head back on the pillow. “You stupid men were betting on my child? Do you think this was for fun?”

The two rogues’ expression turned sheepish.

“Well, it had been rather fun, right up until this moment,” Lucien admitted.

“Wait until I get my strength back,” Horatia hissed. “You deserve a good kick to your arse!”

“Language, my love, language. Can’t be offending our new babe’s delicate hearing.”

Charles snorted. “Lord, he doesn’t stand a chance with the League of Rogues as his uncles. Just wait until the others see him! What a strong lad he’ll be!” The open pride Charles took in the new Russell baby made Audrey rush to his side and hug him.

“Thank you,” she whispered so only he could hear. He had no idea what a miracle he had worked, and she would never be able to repay him.

“Of course. Anything for the Sheridan sisters.” He patted her gently, but she didn’t miss a look of longing as Charles glanced toward the new family.

Lucien gazed down at his child in wonder. “He’ll be the strongest of them all. Won’t you, my dear boy?” Then he kissed the babe’s face and forehead before he set him in Horatia’s arms. She looked exhausted but smiled openly.

“Thank you, thank you all. You saved him - you saved us both. I don’t know what would’ve happened if…”

Audrey’s eyes blurred with tears. James and Gillian slipped outside as the upstairs maid entered with a bowl of chipped ice. Audrey thanked the girl and took it over to her sister.

“Lord, who knew ice would be such a relief?” Horatia sighed.

“Rest, sister. I’ll wait for the doctor.” Audrey started to go, but Horatia caught her by the arm.

“Thank you for staying. I know that could not have been easy for you. You must have been ready to faint.”

Audrey’s gaze dropped to the floor. Shame dampened most of her joy. She hated her squeamishness about blood and the weakness she felt for having it. It was such a silly thing to fear, and it had made her all but useless tonight.

“I love you, Horatia. I would do anything for you. Have you thought about names?” Audrey stroked the baby’s cheek with the back of one finger.

Horatia chuckled. “I wasn’t prepared for a boy. We had only expected a girl.”

“We’ll think of something good.”

“I’m tempted to name him Evander, after Lucien’s father,” Horatia said. Lucian went still, his eyes overbright.

“Evander, truly? What about your father, Ambrose?”

“Evander Ambrose Russell, the future Marquess of Rochester.” Horatia tested out the name. “I think it sounds perfect. What do you think?”

Lucien swallowed hard. “I think…I think I love you even more than I did yesterday. Is that possible?” Lucien stroked Horatia’s hand, and Audrey smiled, quietly slipping away. The two needed some time alone.

As she stepped into the hall, she leaned against the wall and sighed in relief. At the base of the stairs she saw Jonathan rushing up with a doctor behind him. When he saw her, his face drained of color.

“Audrey, is everything all right?”

She managed an exhausted smile. “Yes, I think so.” She looked toward the doctor, who seemed as weary as she was. No doubt Jonathan had dragged him from his dinner.

“Doctor, the baby was born a little less than a quarter of an hour ago. We greatly appreciate you coming to look after my sister and the baby.”

The doctor nodded. “It is my pleasure, Miss Sheridan. May I go inside?”

“Yes, please.” She turned to Jonathan once they were alone. “Thank you for fetching the doctor.”

“I was glad to do something useful. Moments like these can’t help but make you feel…helpless.” He added the last word softly.

“You were far from helpless. I, on the other hand, did not manage much of anything.” She felt a wretched sinking feeling in her chest. How was she ever to become a lady spy if she froze at the sight of blood or trauma? Childbirth was supposed to be natural thing, and yet she’d been petrified.

Jonathan stepped closer. “Audrey, are you well?” She shrugged away from his touch and went down the stairs. If she didn’t get to her room soon, she was going to collapse from exhaustion. Jonathan looked so warm, strong, and inviting, but if she fell into his arms now, he would never respect her for the woman she was trying to be. And she was tired of him seeing her at her worst, when she was weak and ashamed. She heard his footsteps behind her.

“You need not follow me. I’m perfectly fine,” she declared, not looking over her shoulder.

“You look exhausted and had very little to eat at dinner. Why don’t we fetch something from the kitchen and find a place for you to rest?”

“You need not trouble yourself on my account.” Her words came out sharp, but she knew it was her hunger and fatigue speaking for her.

Jonathan caught her hand in his and tugged her toward him. “Come. The kitchens are this way.”

She tried to ignore the thrill she felt at him holding her hand and trying to take care of her, even if another part of her resented it. She was too tired to fight, so she followed him down to the kitchens, where the servants were just settling down to their own meal. The footmen and the maids leapt from their seats, but Jonathan waved them back down.

“Please, don’t trouble yourselves. We are only going to collect some food.”

A plump cook rose from her seat. “Let me help you, dear boy.” The cook winked at Jonathan, and Audrey wondered if the cook had known Jonathan back when he had been a servant. Godric no doubt had brought him to Lucien’s estate many times as a valet, and he would have spent time down here with the other servants. The cook prepared two plates laden with turkey, stuffing, sausages, cauliflower, and potatoes.

“And a bit of a treat for you…” The cook grinned as she placed rings of pineapples on their plates. Then she handed him a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“It seems you got your pineapples after all,” he teased as they left the kitchens.

“I did,” she admitted, feeling a little better.

Jonathan escorted her to her bedchamber, and she was too exhausted to tell him he shouldn’t come inside. Frankly, she was glad for the company.

They set the plates on the table by her bedside, and Jonathan stoked the fire. Then he removed his coat and laid it over the back of the chair. There was something in the look he gave that stilled her, an emotion she couldn’t read, and yet she knew everything was going to change tonight if he stayed.

“Eat. You need not wait on me,” he encouraged in a gentle voice that surprised her. He was always doing that, surprising her. She had a difficult time rationalizing his cool aloofness against this gentle thoughtfulness.

“I believe I’m too tired to play your games tonight. Why did you come here?”

“To the house, the party, or to your bedchamber?” He approached the bed and took his plate of food. She scooted over, and he sat down beside her, resting his plate on his thighs. It was rather tricky not to look at him. He truly was a fine specimen of a man.

“Why did you come to the party?”

He looked ahead at the fire, not her. “I promised you lessons, and this was a convenient way to keep my word.”

The lessons. Of course. Her heart twinged. She’d been so hopeful that he’d come for other reasons.

“The lessons could have waited.”

“They were important to you, or so I thought, so I saw no point in waiting.” He ate a few bites of his turkey before speaking again. “What is your favorite color?”

She stared at him. Was he joking?

“Your favorite color. What is it?”

“I honestly don’t have a favorite. For clothes there are several colors that favor my skin and hair, so I wear them more. Other colors I find are best suited for households or for displays. But I like all colors. Well, not all. Yellows aren’t so pleasant, nor are browns, though some can be quite attractive under the right light.” She paused when she realized she was prattling on about colors. And then she saw his face. He was smiling at her. What on earth for?

“Why is that so terribly amusing?”

“You’re normally such a decisive creature. The fact that you cannot choose something so simple as a favorite color is highly amusing.”

She glared at him and set her empty plate on the table at the side of her bed.

“The question is flawed at its core. The value of a color varies depending on the situation. One does not need a favorite.”

“I have a few favorite colors myself.” His voice lowered to a whisper as he reached out to caress her cheek. “The honey brown of your eyes, for example…or the pink rosebud of your lips. The alabaster of your skin.”

Audrey leaned into him. She was being lulled into a spell by his words and his touch, and she was too tired to fight her desire for him.

“See, you don’t have a favorite either,” she whispered as their eyes met.

“I have too many favorites. There’s quite a difference.”

A little shiver fluttered through her. I could have this small comfort, could I not? Surely fate will let me have this, if I am not destined for marital bliss?

He trailed his fingers down her throat and traced light patterns on her collarbone, leaning forward. Before their lips met, she saw a devilish and playful merriment light up his eyes. Then his mouth covered hers, and she was shocked by her own desire to respond. She had sworn not to let him affect her so, but she now realized that was as impossible as harnessing the wind. She would never stop wanting him.