CHAPTER 40

GAbrIEL PACED THE DUKE'S sitting room, unable to sit still. The doctor Colin sent had arrived about an hour ago. He had not expected the man to be so young. He looked more like a rake than a respectable doctor, which was not reassuring. But Colin had endorsed him, and if his friend, who was a doctor himself, trusted the man, he would suspend judgment for now.

But the doctor had been in Hannah's room for the best part of the hour, and so far, there had been no news.

"Calm yourself, Gabriel. You are going to blaze a trail on the rug," the duke said from where he sat on a chair by the fireplace.

"I can't sit still. How can you be so calm when Hannah is going through this?"

"I'm not. But there's nothing to be gained by whipping myself into a frenzy. Nor do I have the energy for that. I have to conserve my strength and be calm for Hannah."

Gabriel dropped into a chair and leaned forward. Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned his head into his hands.

"I'm so afraid. What if something happens to Hannah? Or the baby? What if we are punished for this unholy scheme we have concocted?"

The duke's hand fell on his shoulder. "If someone deserves punishment, it is only me. Don't torment yourself, Gabriel. Everything will be fine."

At that moment there was a knock on the door, and when the duke bid entrance, Dr. Finlay walked in. Gabriel jumped to his feet a moment before he remembered his place. Trying to cover his reaction, he walked towards the window, as if he had intended to do just that all along. Pretending to give them privacy. He should leave the room altogether, but he was incapable of doing so. The doctor went to the duke.

"The duchess is well, and the labor is progressing normally."

Gabriel let out a breath, relief weakening his knees... But then, why hadn't she been able to deliver?

"I am immensely relieved to hear that, doctor. But why has the baby not been born? She started to have labor pains yesterday morning, it's been almost two full days. My first wife delivered a scant few hours after the pains began."

Gabriel looked surreptitiously. Wanting not only to hear the doctor's words but also to study his face. He seemed reassuringly calm and confident when he replied.

"Not all labors are the same. I predict it might be still a few more hours, perhaps not until tomorrow, until the baby is born. With the duchess's permission, I administered chloroform anesthesia. She needs to rest and conserve her strength for when the time comes to push the baby out."

"Is this anesthesia safe for her and the baby?" the duke inquired, to Gabriel's immense relief. It seemed they were of one mind when it came to their concerns.

"There are always risks associated with any procedure. Chloroform's dosage needs to be carefully controlled. But I have vast experience with this form of anesthetic and have successfully employed it with most of my patients."

"Most, but not all?" the duke pressed.

Far from taking offense, the doctor smiled. "Some of my patients have refused the anesthesia. Others were not suitable candidates because they had weakened hearts or lungs, so I refused to administer it. While it's impossible to offer guarantees with medical outcomes, I have never lost a patient, or even had complications, because of the use of chloroform."

The duke nodded, appearing satisfied. Gabriel was as well. "What should we do now?"

"My nurse and I will continue to monitor the duchess's progress. For now, we will let her rest for a couple of hours. I suggest you do the same, Your Grace."

With that, the doctor went back into Hannah's chamber, and Gabriel resumed his pacing.

"You heard the doctor. All is well. We should get some rest," the duke suggested.

"You must be joking," Gabriel replied. Stupid suggestion. As if he could sleep knowing the woman he loved was going through this.

The duke looked at him and nodded, seeming to come to a decision. "Let me show you something."

So saying, he walked towards a wall and pressed down on the molding. As the panel swung open, a concealed door became visible. The duke opened it with a key and, taking a lamp from the table, he motioned Gabriel to follow him.

The tunnel was ancient and dusty. But at least it seemed solid and free of vermin.

"What is this?" he inquired.

"This place was an abbey. In the past, during turbulent times, the monks needed ways to hide and escape persecution. The house is riddled with them. All the way from the top floor to the bottom, and even underground. One such underground tunnel comes out a few hundred yards from the house."

Gabriel nodded, frowning. It made sense, since this building had been an abbey and not a castle, that it would have escape routes rather than defense structures. From a tactical standpoint, this place would be a nightmare to defend. Good thing they were not at war. Still, the prospect of having a secret entrance with access to the whole of the house didn't seem ideal to Gabriel.

"Are all the accesses to the house locked?"

The duke waved a hand, dismissing the idea. "They are as safe as can be. Not only are they locked, but nobody knows they exist. Not even the servants. That is the reason for their lack of cleanliness."

"Still. It is not safe. Someone could stumble upon them. And from there, it's only a matter of time until you have break-ins. What about your nephew? Does he know about these?"

The duke frowned. "I'm not sure. He lived in the house as a child, but I don't know if he ever discovered them."

"We must assume he knows them, then. Do you have a set of plans for the tunnels? I would like to inspect and secure all the corridors."

"There's an old set from centuries ago. They are in the library. But that is not the reason I revealed the tunnels. Come, I want to show you something."

The duke kept walking, and he seemed to count doors. At last, he came to one, peered in, and grunted with satisfaction. Pushing the door, they found themselves among gowns and other women's articles. Hannah's dressing room, he would guess. The room even carried her fragrance.

The duke confirmed his deduction. "This is part of the duchess's suite. Through that door is Hannah's bedchamber," he whispered, pointing to the wall opposite. "Come, let me show you how to get from your room to the duchess's room."

"Thank you." There was so much more Gabriel wanted to say.

Such implicit trust manifested by the gesture. By showing him the tunnels, the duke was not only revealing a secret that, according to his own words, few people knew. He was also giving him discrete access to Hannah, with no one being the wiser, as long as he was careful. It was an immeasurable gift.

"No, it's I who should thank you." There was torment in the duke's eyes. "Or maybe apologize. Until now, I had not fully realized the great sacrifice you are making."

"I would do it again." He meant it. As painful as this situation was, he regretted nothing when it came to Hannah.

JUST AS THE DOCTOR had predicted, Hannah's labor lasted all night, and well into the next morning. At one point the duke requested for the doctor and nurse to leave the room so Gabriel could sneak in to see Hannah. When she caught on where he was coming from, she would from time to time send the doctor or nurse away to have a few moments with him.

By late next morning, Hannah's pains were coming closer together. He couldn't go to her side anymore because the doctor and nurse were constantly with her, but he could see them from his hiding place within the tunnels.

Each small exhalation of pain Hannah uttered twisted his heart, although she seemed comfortable enough. And then the doctor announced it was time to push the baby out. He died a thousand deaths while she grunted and strained and fell back on the bed, panting and gasping for breath.

What he wouldn't give to go to her. Hold her hand, smooth her hair back. But he couldn't do it. His place was in the shadows. Always in the shadows. The unrecognized son, the covert lover, the secret father. He didn't belong to any family. Not really. He was always on the outskirts, looking in.

And then, the most wonderful sound he had ever heard rent the air. A baby's cry. A bit hoarse, indignant, but strong and healthy.

"Congratulations, Your Grace. You have birthed a healthy son."

Through a blur of tears, Gabriel saw the doctor hand the baby to the nurse, who cleaned and wrapped him in soft blankets before placing him in Hannah's arms.

A son. A healthy son. All their plans, the months of waiting, of wishing, had borne fruit. Their tiny baby was the heir to one of the most illustrious titles in all of Britain. Would probably succeed to it before he had even reached his first year of life. Yet none of that mattered. He was glad the duke had the heir he needed, but he would have loved the baby just as much if it had been a girl.

Hannah murmured something to the bundle in her arms, and the baby quieted. God, how he ached to hold him in his arms.

His chance came later that afternoon. After the birthing was done, and the doctor and nurse had finished taking care of the baby and mother, they retired with the instruction for the duchess to rest. He slipped out of his hiding place. Hannah showed no surprise at his entrance. Only a soft joy radiated from her as she smiled at him.

"I knew you were near," she said with moist eyes. "I could feel your presence. It gave me strength during the most difficult part."

"I couldn't be anywhere else. I only wished I'd been next to you, holding your hand."

"Do you want to hold him?"

Gabriel didn't respond, simply approached the bed and gathered the baby from her outstretched arms. It was such a small bundle, and yet it exerted such a powerful pull on him. Serious eyes, a shade lighter than his, peered up at him from between swollen eyelids. He stared back, transfixed by the marvel of this wee human they had created. The tiny button of a nose. The rosebud lips. He was perfect. Babies had been born every day, ever since the beginning of humanity, and yet it was still a miracle.

"What will you name him?" he asked.

"I was thinking Arthur?"

"God, no. Nothing reminiscent of the legend of King Arthur."

Her brow furrowed in confusion at his vehemence. "Why?"

"Lancelot and Guinevere?"

"Oh, it did not occur to me." She raised her gaze to him. "You are not Lancelot. And you did not betray anyone."

"Still... the story is too close for comfort. How about Samuel? Samuel is the son of Hannah in the Bible."

"Samuel. Yes, I think it's perfect. It suits him."

Yes, it did. Little Samuel. He couldn't give his son his own name, but at least he had helped to name him.

"YOU DON'T HAVE TO LEAVE immediately," the duke told him at dinner three days after, when he announced he would be leaving the next morning.

"Yes, I do," Gabriel insisted.

"You can stay as long as you want. You are always welcome here."

"Thank you, but you must agree it would be strange for me to stay as a long-term guest. Especially now, when you have welcomed a blessed event. It should be family time. My stay here would only set tongues wagging."

"But you are family," the duke protested. But his tone was sad, defeated. As if even he had to admit the flaw in his logic.

"I know. In our hearts, we are. But nobody else can know. Wasn't that the deal?"

The duke sighed and looked down. "At least, promise to visit again soon. I'll write often."

"I'll try, sir."

Gabriel didn't know where he would ever find the strength to go away. Or if he would be able to stay away. But he knew the longer he stayed, the harder it became to leave. Was it possible to live with your heart beating somewhere outside your body? Because even if he left, his bleeding heart would stay behind. Here in this house lived his father, the woman he loved, his son. They were his only family. The family he'd never had.

And he did not belong with them.