Epilogue
Eight months later
Charlotte ambled into Con’s newly decorated study and lowered herself into one of the two leather-covered chairs in front of his desk. How she remained so graceful, as heavy with their child as she was, he had no idea.
“This came for you.” She held out a letter. “It’s from France.”
The only one he knew in France was Aimée, and he had certainly never expected to hear from her. “Open it.”
After neatly popping off the seal, Charlotte spread the paper on his desk. And read, “Mon ami.” She looked up at him. “Did she always call you her friend?”
“Yes.” Now that he considered it, that was a rather strange form of address. Many mistresses referred to their protectors more intimately. “That or Kenilworth.”
“Never Constantine or Con?” Charlotte had a curious expression on her face, and he wondered if he would do well to tread carefully.
“No. She was never that informal. I always thought it was something to do with her being French, but after that last conversation with her, I believe it was her way of keeping a distance.”
His wife nodded as if she understood, and went back to the missive. “‘You may end the account you set up for me. I have married and have no further need of your funds. Trust me when I tell you I have never been happier. I wish for you the same. Aimée.’”
“I’m glad,” he said as Charlotte refolded the paper. “She deserved to find happiness.”
“Yes, she and so many others.” She slid the note across the desk to him. “Are you surprised that she will no longer accept your largess?”
Con put his hand over hers, stopping the motion. “No. She would still see it as payment for what she did in her former life. It would not shock me if she somehow found a way to return all the money.” He glanced down at their hands, and up at his wife. “This belongs in the fire.”
Incinerated. Reduced to ashes, as was Aimée’s past life. Con would not keep anything that could connect her to that past.
Charlotte gazed at him for a long moment, her head tilted to one side. Then she gave an almost imperceptible nod, took the letter to the fireplace, and tossed it in. A few moments later she returned to the chair. “What shall you do with the money if she returns it?”
“Donate it to your charity. It should continue to help others in need.” He reveled in the bright smile she gave him. It had never occurred to him that he could be this happy.
Suddenly, Charlotte’s expression changed to a grimace and her hand went to her stomach. “They are getting closer together and stronger.”
“What!” He jumped up, knocking his heavy leather chair over, and ran around to her. “You’re in labor?” It was too early. She should not give birth for a few weeks. He lifted her out of the chair. “You should be in bed.” Reaching out, he yanked the bell pull, and the door opened. His butler bowed. “Call the midwife and the doctor.”
“The midwife has been called, my lord. She arrived several minutes ago.”
Con put his arm around Charlotte, supporting her as he walked slowly toward the corridor. “What about the doctor?”
“Attending another birth, my lord.” Webster frowned. “He sent a message saying he’d be here as soon as he could.”
“Constantine,” Charlotte said, laughing. “Cease. I’m fine, and I refuse to be cooped up in my bedchamber until these children come.”
His mind went blank for a second. “Children?”
“Yes.” She grinned at him. “Mrs. Connor thinks she felt two babies the last time she examined me.” Charlotte patted his cheek. “They typically come a little early, but I’ll be fine. Both the little ones and I are healthy and have stayed active.”
“I am sure you are supposed to be in bed.” He tried to infuse his tone with authority, but was truly at a loss. He had never felt so helpless in his life.
“Even though I was a child for the births of some of my brothers and sisters, I watched my mother go through them. She never went to her chamber until she was sure her time was near.”
His butler hovered, and he didn’t know how to respond. “But-but—”
“The worst that can happen is the babies are born in some other room than my bedchamber. If you wish to be helpful, stroll with me.”
“If you’re sure.” Her poor husband sounded like a warrior facing a battle without a sword.
“I am quite sure.” She began to walk slowly toward the door.
Grace had written Charlotte shortly after giving birth to her son, Gideon, Viscount Vivers, telling her what to expect. She had also received a letter from Dotty a month later after Dotty had given birth to her daughter, little Lady Vivienne, and one from Louisa after the birth of Matthew, Marquis of Langton. So, despite having never given birth before, Charlotte felt amazingly confident and knowledgeable.
Her sister’s missive had been the most important. Grace had attended their mother when the twins and the younger children were born, and had also been the recipient of their mother’s story of when Mama had carried Grace. The advice to walk and take light nourishment for as long as possible was exactly what Charlotte intended to do. It was fortunate that the midwife agreed. The doctor, however, was another matter entirely, and a problem she hoped not to have to deal with. She really wished their butler had not taken it upon himself to summon the man.
After an hour of Charlotte ambling and eating, Constantine and the rest of the household quickly realized what she was doing. Footmen with worried expressions hovered nearby with trays of light delicacies from Cook. Nourishing broths were added to small pieces of toast topped with chicken, cheeses, and fruits from their succession houses.
Collette hovered around Charlotte, staying close to her skirts but never getting in the way.
Every now and then, Mrs. Connor would come up to ask questions, place experienced hands on Charlotte’s stomach, and nod. After the first such examination, Constantine began looking at his watch each time she cried out with a contraction.
After five hours, the midwife pronounced, “I believe it’s about time.”
Part of the way up the stairs, Charlotte felt an urge to push. “Oh, God. Hurry. I think the babies are coming.”
Constantine swung her up in his arms, and even as heavy as she was, carried her as if she weighed no more than the cat.
May was in the bedchamber, ready to remove Charlotte’s clothing when Constantine started to leave.
“Do not go.” She reached out and touched his arm. “I want you to be here. My father stayed with my mother.”
The strong planes of his face tightened, but he inclined his head. “If you wish.”
Maids brought in hot water, linens, and ice chips piled in a silver bowl.
Mrs. Connor pulled the birthing chair from the corner of the room. In the meantime, May quickly stripped Charlotte to her chemise.
“My lord,” the midwife said, “please help her ladyship into the chair.”
Constantine cocked Charlotte a look. “Grace sent it,” Charlotte explained.
She had barely been lowered onto the chair when the urge to push came again.
“Now then, my lady. Let’s see how much progress you’ve made.” Getting on her knees, the midwife lifted the hem of her shift. “Not long now. Once or twice more.”
“What in the name of heaven?” The Dowager Lady Kenilworth strode into the chamber. “Charlotte, get in bed. Kenilworth, leave this room immediately, where is the—”
“Mother, be quiet. Or leave.” Constantine’s tone was more commanding than she had ever heard it.
Eyes wide, the Dowager Marchioness of Kenilworth snapped her mouth shut.
Constantine winced as Charlotte squeezed his hand again and pushed. She felt the first baby slide out of her body. One of the older maids rushed forward with a wet cloth.
“A fine boy, my lady,” Mrs. Connor announced. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.”
Seconds later the second child appeared. “A girl. Now once more and we’ll get you cleaned up.”
In what seemed to be a very short period of time, Charlotte had been washed, dressed in her nightgown, and put in bed, where she nursed the babies.
Constantine kissed her softly on her forehead and took one of the infants from her. “I never want to go through that again.”
“It will be easier the next time.” She was exhausted, but had never been more content. “At least we’ll be able to tell them apart. We had to mark the bottom of Alice’s and Eleanor’s feet.”
“And you have an heir, Constantine,” his mother said. The first time she had spoken since he’d told her to be quiet. “But I do not understand. What is that chair?”
“A birthing chair, my lady,” the midwife replied. “Doctors don’t hold with them, but they make birthing a babe much easier.”
“My sister sent it to me,” Charlotte added. “She had it made for me. The one my mother used is at Worthington Place.”
“What happened to the doctor?” her mother-in-law asked, apparently still confused.
“Unable to be here, fortunately.” As far as she was concerned, he need never arrive. She had a feeling he would cause problems. He had also not agreed with the midwife that Charlotte would have twins. “I’m sure he would have argued with me and Mrs. Connor.”
“Well, you certainly had a much easier time than I did.” Lady Kenilworth reached for the baby Charlotte was holding. “Have you hired a wet-nurse yet?”
“No. The one the doctor sent smelled of ale, and we decided not to use her.” Constantine kissed the baby and cuddled her. “If you insist on going through this again, we shall ensure he is not invited. Especially if he is going to make this process more difficult for you.”
Charlotte gazed up at Constantine. His support and his willingness to always listen to her continued to amaze her. “I am the luckiest woman in the world, and I love you.”
“And I am the luckiest man. I love you.”
Mrs. Connor curtseyed. “No relations for two months.”
Constantine swore under his breath, and Charlotte couldn’t suppress her giggle. “Yes, Mrs. Connor. Thank you for your help.”