CHAPTER 38

HANNAH HAD WATCHED summer come and go. She was in the final stages of her pregnancy. Any day now, her baby would arrive. She should have known at once when the first pains started after breakfast. However, when she had thought about childbirth, she had imagined something sudden and dramatic. She had heard of women gushing liquid, screams of pain, running to get the doctor or midwife on time.

Not this gradual, almost gentle progression. At first, it almost felt like a touch of indigestion. It was only when the pains persisted throughout the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon that she grew convinced she was in labor.

By late afternoon, she was sure enough to tell Harold.

She entered the study where he was sitting, attending to business. He looked at her and knew before she had to say anything.

"I'll send for the doctor," he said, ringing for the servants. "Here, have a seat."

He stood up to come to her, but she stayed him with a hand. "I'm fine. Really, you don't need to trouble yourself on my account—"

"Hannah, you are my wife, my responsibility. You are in this condition because of me. Of course I need to trouble myself, dear."

She accepted his help to sit on the chair while the butler entered the room. "Send for the doctor at once," Harold commanded. "And the midwife as well, for good measure. Also, have the kitchen boil water and send several maids to attend to the duchess. And two footmen to accompany her upstairs."

Eyes wide as saucers, the solemn butler practically skipped from the room to go do the duke's bidding.

"Truly, Harold, there's no need to set everyone running. I don't think I'm ready to deliver"—she had to hold her breath for a moment as another pain radiated through her belly—"the baby just yet."

"There's every need. You should be as comfortable as possible. I want everyone at your beck and call. The doctor and midwife need to be here to assist you. We must arrange everything."

Two burly footmen entered at that moment to help carry her to her chamber. Where a flock of maids were scurrying about, preparing the room for the birth.

Within minutes, they had her dressed in a soft, white cotton nightgown, her hair braided and gathered in a cap, and ensconced in bed. And then there was nothing to do, for the pains were only sporadic and she was nowhere near ready to deliver this baby.

The doctor arrived posthaste, examined her, and determined that it would take a while. When the doctor suggested he return in a few hours, the duke almost ordered him thrown in a dungeon.

A few hours later, her chamber resembled a circus. There were people running about for no reason and at least a dozen servants in her room. The doctor and the midwife bickered over the best way to proceed, and the duke was barking orders... She had had enough.

Her back ached, her belly seemed to twist from within, and she was uncomfortable and irritable. She wished everyone would leave so she could rest. Not that she could sleep with the pains in her belly, but at least she would have some peace and quiet.

"Out!" she yelled. "Everyone out!" She had never yelled at her staff, but there were limits to what a woman in labor could endure.

The duke shuffled to her side. "Dear, you need the doctor, and the servants to see to your needs—"

"At the moment, the only thing I need is quiet and room to breathe. Please remove all the servants from the room. And let the doctor take a nap in one of the guest bedrooms. The midwife can sit with me for a few hours, and then the doctor can take over if he wants, so that she can sleep."

It was obvious that Harold felt conflicted, but he didn't dare contradict her. With a nod from him, everyone fled the room, and blessed silence reigned.

"You should go to bed as well," she told Harold as another pain racked her belly.

"Not a chance," he told her, and she saw the steely determination in his eyes. It reminded her so much of Gabriel that a sudden burst of emotion made her chin tremble.

Oh, God. How she wanted to have Gabriel here. All throughout this pregnancy, she had missed him, but never so much as now. He couldn't visit, of course. That would be unthinkable. How would they explain that to the servants, or the doctor?

She turned away so Harold wouldn't see her cry. But a soft hand on her head told her he had seen her upset. And had probably guessed the cause. It only made her cry harder.

By the next morning, she was no further along in her labor. At the crack of dawn, and much to the horror of everyone but the midwife, she decided she needed to take a walk.

"It is the way with some women," the midwife had reassured the duke. "I'll be with the duchess the entire time."

With an ominous look that promised retribution if any harm came to her or the baby, the duke allowed the midwife to take her for a walk. They had intended to walk along the gallery, but she yearned for the outdoors, so she convinced the midwife that she was capable of taking a turn in the garden.

The fresh morning air and the walk made her marginally more comfortable. She sat on one of the garden benches whenever a strong pain made it impossible for her to walk. But otherwise, she walked until she saw the worried figure of the duke laboriously descend the stairs towards the garden, helped by one footman. He approached her, and she saw his haggard face.

"I think it's time to go back inside, dear. I worry about you out here."

She acquiesced for Harold's sake. It was obvious the sleepless night, coupled with the stress, were taking as much a toll on him as they did on her. So she trudged back inside, yearning for Gabriel with every step.