“Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life.”

“That was demmed fast. I knew you were interested in her, but didn’t realize… By God, we just gave you a key a few months ago.” Weston slapped him on the back. “To most men I would offer my sympathy, but this chit had you back to your old self before summer had gone. “

Kit grinned. “Lord Boldon arrives at his townhouse later this week. You’ll meet her then. She’s coming for the birth of my niece or nephew.”

“So the plans are all in order?”

“Yes, nothing has changed. Falsbury prefers I don’t return to my military career. If it’s a boy, he wants me to assume guardianship. Says he’s too old to worry about another youngster. Regardless of the outcome, we will reside at Sunderland Castle. If I want to spend any time with my wife, we need to live near her family estate.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The grounds need major repairs. I’ve managed to make one wing livable, so we can reside there while renovations are underway.”

“We’ll need to kick over the traces at the Wicked Earls’ Club before you sign the marriage contract.”

“Several times, I hope. The company and gaming are excellent there, but I won’t need any more doxies in my room.”

“I promise it will be a bit more tame than Carson’s excursions.”

A silence settled between them, each lost in a memory.

Grace checked her reflection for the third time before joining her father at the door. In less than an hour, she would see Kit and Eliza again. She had not seen her cousin since late September. Papa had been invited to hunt partridge at Lady Rafferton’s estate, and they had stayed at Falsbury for the week. Kit had been busy getting Sunderland Castle habitable again, so he had split his time between inspecting various properties with his father, working on the crumbling castle, and London. Still, it had been a month since her heart had raced when he entered a room.

She pulled a ringlet in front of her ear, adjusted the wide green ribbon in her hair, and smoothed out the velvet of her emerald green dress. Two bands of deep purple, embroidered with gold thread in Celtic swirls, ran down each side of her skirt. A matching embroidered ribbon wrapped around her waist. Yanking her gloves up to her elbows, she smiled at herself and pinched her cheeks. Oh gracious, she thought, he loves as you are, stop fussing. As she descended the stairs, her purple slippers peeked out from the hem.

“You are a beauty, my dear,” her father said, beaming. “This will be a grand visit.”

“I only wish Sammy was here with us.” She hated the whine in her voice.

“We discussed this. You must adapt to his absence. We shall only be gone a week or two until the babe arrives.” He patted her shoulder with a chuckle. “This too, we shall survive.”

“I know, Papa. It’s my first time away from him, that’s all.” Stretching on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “I will be happy to see Eliza and concentrate on that.”

“Only Eliza?” His bushy brows rose. “Someone else may have been on your mind when you dressed tonight. A new gown?”

She bit her lip. “Yes, but I—”

“No need to explain. You rarely spend a coin on yourself.” He kissed her back on the top of her head.

The carriage pulled up to the front steps. The lady’s maid helped her on with the golden brown pelisse; the plush fox of the collar and cuffs feathered her skin as she drew it around her. Grace tucked her reticule inside the large fur muff then took her father’s elbow. The ride to the Falsbury townhouse was short. The street lamps had already been lit, and snow had begun to fall. In the glow of oil lights, snowflakes danced and twisted to the ground, covering the grime of the city in a pristine white blanket.

“Are you warm enough, my dear?”

“Oh, yes Papa.” She rubbed her feet against the hot wrapped bricks. “Did you know Eliza plans to stay with Lady Falsbury regardless if she has a boy or girl?”

He nodded. “Strange how things have worked out. The marchioness has become more of a maternal figure to the girl than her own mother. Not that I blame your aunt in any way. She is a victim of circumstance.”

Grace said a silent prayer for all women in such circumstances. The carriage rolled onto the crescent, and stopped at the center residence of the terrace. The arc-shaped row of townhouses was lit with fan lights over each door. Falsbury’s lamp illuminated the white pilasters flanking either side of the entrance and the pineapple frieze above the door that welcomed visitors. It stood four stories tall, miniature wrought-iron balconies adorning the middle rows of windows. In the summer, the attached flower boxes would hold summer blooms.

The butler ushered them in and soon they were in the drawing room. Eliza tried to bound from the chair, fell back, and pushed herself forward again. Sunderland was at her elbow in a moment, escorting her across the room.

Grace met them in the middle, her arms going around her cousin but her eyes on Kit. The wings in her stomach awoke, provoked by the warm, secret smile he sent her way. The smile that said I’ve missed you. I long to hold you in my arms.

“Gracie, it’s so good to see you,” cried Eliza, wiping at her eyes then laughing at her look of concern. “Don’t mind me. I seem to burst into tears these days over trifles. Doesn’t matter if I’m happy, angry, sad, or just bored.”

“I was worse off than you,” chimed in Lady Falsbury with a flap of hand, dismissing her daughter-in-law’s outburst. Kit’s mother was glowing in a print of dusty rose with scalloped lace at the throat and sleeves. “Don’t go trotting too much, my dear. We don’t want that baby coming early.”

Kit bowed low over Grace’s hand, winking at her as his lips lingered on her gloved hand. Her pulse quickened in anticipation of a stolen moment later in the evening. They were engaged after all and Eliza had assured her no outsiders had been invited.

* * *

At dinner, Kit threw protocol to the wind and sat next to his fiancée. It had been over a month, and if he couldn’t pull her off to a dark corner, he would at least sit beside her. The women had talked incessantly of the upcoming birth. He’d learned more than he needed to know about Sir William Knighton, the accoucheur attending the birth, the monthly nurse now in residence, the “lowering” diet Eliza was on that restricted the intake alcohol, tea or coffee, and the birthing room. Finally, the meal would provide alternative subjects.

“Have you been to Tattersall’s of late, Sunderland?” asked Boldon, a twinkle in his brown eyes. “I’m considering breeding my best carriage horse. I’ll need to replace her if I do. Would you like to take a look at the stock tomorrow?”

“Could we discuss something other than procreation?” Kit gave him a sullen side-glance and was rewarded with a hearty chuckle.

“I’m just kicking up a lark,” he replied with good humor. “We’ll have our port soon enough and the ladies may continue their delicate talk.”

“I haven’t heard a delicate word since they began,” he mumbled under his breath. It must have been loud enough for Grace to hear because she pinched him under the table. “Ouch! You’ll pay for that,” he warned in a loud whisper. She giggled and her scent of vanilla and…orange filled his nose. When desire stirred his loins, he reluctantly went back to thoughts of the accoucheur.

The subject of Christmas and social events vied with pregnancy the rest of the meal. He noted Eliza looked pale this evening. Even though his mother had reminded her meat and rich dishes should be avoided this late in her pregnancy, but fish was an excellent choice. She had only sipped at the white soup and partaken in none of the corner dishes of fish. Are all women so preoccupied with such details? he wondered. A plan to ban his mother and Eliza from Sunderland Castle during Grace’s confinement began to form.

The remove dishes were replaced and the second course began. He served himself and Grace a portion of roasted filet of pork and lamb chop sautéed with asparagus and peas.

“I will excuse myself just before you retire to the drawing room. Find a reason to delay, so you leave the dining room alone,” he said quietly, sticking his fork into a chunk of pork covered in a rich brown sauce. He moved his knee and brushed the velvet of her dress, watching Grace’s eyes widen and press her lips together.

But as the second course removes were taken away, an uproar began at the end of the table. “Are you sure?” asked his mother in a high-pitched voice. Sir Knighton is out of town. It cannot happen until next week at the earliest.

Eliza pushed back her chair and bent low, clutching her belly. “You had better tell your grandchild because she isn’t listening.”

“My grandson seems to be as contrary as his father,” mumbled Lady Falsbury. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid you’ll have to finish the meal without us.” She stood and leaned over Eliza. “Come my dear, let’s get you upstairs.”

Grace shot up from her chair, toppling it backward. Kit caught it before it hit the floor. “Are you well?” he asked, concern over the sudden paleness of her skin.

“Grace,” her father said in a calm, soothing tone. “It will be fine. The monthly nurse is here. I am sure Lady Falsbury found the best in London.”

“Certainly, nothing less for my grandson.”

“Granddaughter,” corrected Eliza.

“We’ll soon see,” grinned Kit. He was disappointed his private moment with Grace would be forfeited, but the mystery would finally be solved. “Please, let me assist the lady to her room.”

It took a quarter of an hour to reach the lying-in room on the third floor. Another contraction had rippled over Eliza, and she’d sat on a stair, panting. Her cousin’s earlier alarm had vanished, and she’d held the girl’s hand until the pain subsided.

“I’ve had small pains all day, but I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. The last time, Sir Knighton said it was a false start out of the gate.” She began to laugh but the sound turned into a moan as she lumbered to her feet. “I might have misjudged.”

Kit lost his patience. “Lady Eliza, I don’t want to cause you duress, but please let me carry you the rest of the way.”

He had expected an argument. Instead, her eyes were filled with gratitude as she nodded her consent. She was lighter than he expected. He scooped her up into his arms, the other women following close behind. They had chosen chambers that would provide morning light for the mother and child. There was a large bedroom, dressing room, and an outer chamber, Kit assumed, for anyone waiting to hear news. He would happily wait downstairs with Boldon and drink port.

He gently deposited Lady Eliza on the bed, kissed Grace on top of the head while his mother arranged the sheets, and escaped. In the dining room, Boldon had foregone the last courses and poured two glasses of port.

“To a new generation,” he toasted, handing Kit a glass of the dark liquid.

“I’ll be happy when this is over. Grace and I will set a date, be married, and begin our own family.” He was anxious to get started with this new phase of his life. The optimism that greeted him in the mirror each day was the result of love. The abyss left by Carson’s death was shrinking with Grace’s love. She filled it, filled him with hope that the world could be a good place with laughter and family. This birth would make her hungry for a child. He was ready. At long last, he was ready and had Grace to thank for this new view of the future.

By midnight, Kit was pacing the floor. They had moved to the billiard room to keep busy. Boldon had gone up once and came back, shaking his head. “Not yet, not yet. These things take time. One never knows.”

Foreboding churned in his gut. “What is it?”

“The baby is turned sideways.”

“Well, they can straighten it out. Can’t they?”

“I don’t know.” Boldon’s mouth tightened. “The nurse is afraid to intervene without Sir Knighton. She’s afraid if something goes wrong, she will be blamed.”

Kit ran a hand through his hair and began to pace. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“Wait. And have another drink.”

Two hours later, a rap sounded at the door. A servant curtsied and announced, “You are needed upstairs, my lord.”

They dropped their cue sticks and headed toward the door. “Lord Boldon, my lords.”

Kit ignored the maid, and both men continued down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time. Hesitating at the entrance of the lying-in chambers, he heard a low moan of despair. “No-o-o, no, no.” Fear skittered down his spine as his mother emerged from the room.

“She was like a general in battle. The nurse was afraid to turn the baby, and Eliza was tiring. Lady Grace pushed up her sleeves, and pulled the nurse to the bed. She said they would both die if nothing was done, and she wouldn’t allow that to happen.” Lady Falsbury sat down with a sigh; the lines in her face had deepened in the last few hours. “With Grace’s assistance, the nurse was able to turn the child. As they delivered her into the world, the bleeding began—”

“And Eliza?” asked Lord Boldon.

“She’s weak but will recover. However, I think between the blood and the child not breathing immediately, it brought back memories of your wife. Her body began to tremble, and she backed away from the bed, calling for her mother.”

Another quiet sob on the other side of the wall. “I can’t reach her, Lord Boldon. I thought perhaps if you tried, we could get her out of the room. She’s locked in her past…”

Kit had heard enough. Anger made him push the door with force. It banged against the wall, startling the nurse. “Please, my lord. We do not need any more commotion.” She returned her attention to the patient, sponging the sweat from her face.

With a weak smile, Eliza turned to him. “You have a niece, Lord Sunderland. And I have Grace to thank for her safe delivery. Please help her.”

He heard a hiccup and a long intake a breath. Then he saw her. Huddled in the corner, her knees drawn up, her head buried in her arms. Kit approached her slowly, squatted down, and smoothed back the wet tendrils curled on her cheek. “Grace, my love, I’m here.”

“Why, Mama? Why again?” Her glazed eyes were puffy, her tear-streaked cheeks red. She couldn’t see him, her mind was back at Boldon five years ago. The sight of her pierced his heart. His beautiful, confident, infuriating, beloved Grace. Oh god, his mind screamed, not now. Not when we’re so close to a life together.

Kit placed his hands beneath her with care, as if she might break if he moved too quickly, and lifted her into his arms. He held her to his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin, whispering to her as he carried her out of the room. “Shh, shh my love. I’m here now, shh.”

Her father stood at the door, his eyes shining with concern. “Oh, my poor little girl.” He looked at Lady Falsbury. “Will she come back to us?”

Kit saw his mother guide Boldon from the room. “I think if anyone can reach her now, it will be my son. From what Eliza has told me, she needs a voice from her future not her past, to pull her from this dark place.”

Grace began to cry again, a soft, heart-wrenching sound that threatened to shred Kit’s very soul. He sat down against the sofa, rocking her, whispering words of love, kissing her hair. “Shh, come back to me, my sweet. Eliza and the baby need you now. Sammy is waiting for you. It’s time to come home.”

A strangled groan echoed in his ears, and he continued to rock her. She couldn’t leave him now. Not now, when he was whole again. Not now, when his life was filled with light and laughter. Not now, when her smile helped him heal a little more each day.

“By God, Grace, I won’t allow it. Come back to me, dammit. Blast them all, I need you.” He buried his face in her neck, his tears mixing with hers, and realized the tormented groan was his. “I need you.”

A hand stroked his hair, a whispered touch. Fingers curved around his neck. “Kit?” It was a raspy sound, hoarse and barely audible. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

He let out a long, unsteady breath. “Grace, I’m here my darling.” He clutched her to him, rocking and laughing and kissing her eyes, cheeks, nose, lips. “I’ll always be right here.”

“I saw blood, and the baby was so still…”

“Mother and daughter are fine.” He considered setting her in chair so he could fetch a cool cloth and some water for her. His mind said to release her; his heart wouldn’t let her go.

“It’s a girl? They’re both alive?”

“You saved them, my stubborn, fearless little chit.”

Her hand cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it. “And you saved me. I heard you scolding me. I felt your tears and wanted to wipe them away.”

Grace lifted her head and pressed her lips to his. He closed his eyes, understood the silent promise in the kiss, and his world began to turn again.