Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
84 brOOK STREET, LONDON - NOVEMBER 8, 1816
LEE
It wasn’t until the carriage halted outside the house that I realized I had managed the entire trip without a hint of panic. Before I had a moment to revel in my accomplishment, nearly every servant in our employ spilled out onto the pavement.
A half-asleep Charlotte, still clinging to Leo, and I were greeted by a cacophony of relieved exclamations. Brigs, Crawford, and Jack—delight poured from them all.
Finally, Mrs. Griffith’s sharp tone cut through the noise, directing everyone inside to see to their duties so she could take care of Charlotte.
Charlotte slumped against me in exhausted, pained silence while we mounted the steps into the house. Inside, with the door shut against the harsh world, her head found my shoulder.
“Come now. We’ll get you cleaned up and do a quick exam on you and the babe. Have you tried to feed him?” Mrs. Griffith questioned.
“No—I didn’t even think…” Charlotte said.
“Hush now, that’s all right. We’ll clean you both up and you can try. I take it Mrs. Hyde was there?”
“She was,” I answered.
“At least he’s probably been fed then.”
“It was filthy though and smelled of mold,” I explained while I guided Charlotte to the stairs.
We reached the first step and my wife stared up with trepidation.
Right. “You have him?”
She nodded, still eyeing the steps. Without a word, I leaned over and slid my arms under her knees and shoulders. Leo gave an irritated snuffle and nuzzled back into her while I climbed the steps.
“Tired,” my wife murmured into my chest.
“I know. We’re almost done.”
Mrs. Griffith followed us into my chambers where a bath awaited. I set my wife on her feet before the tub, my hands hovering at her waist to ensure she was steady.
“I’ll examine the little lord while you get cleaned up, Lady Champaign,” the midwife directed.
Charlotte released a distressed cry when the woman reached for Leo.
“May I hold him while you examine him?” I asked.
Mrs. Griffith sighed before agreeing.
“Is that all right?” I questioned Charlotte. She nodded wearily and handed Leo to me with only a slight hesitation.
I helped clean the boy with a damp linen while the midwife examined him.
She pronounced him well enough. His lungs showed no sign of illness now, but she worried he might develop it in the days to come. All things considered, it was the best outcome we could have hoped for given the circumstances.
As soon as Charlotte left the water, she reached for Leo, refusing to let him go while she was examined. In short enough order, my wife was also pronounced as well as could be expected with warnings of possible infection in the days to come.
Finally, Charlotte was settled into bed, Leo at her breast, and Mrs. Griffith left us. Both mother and child fell asleep in mere minutes.
Sleep, however, was far from my grasp, and I spent the next hours guarding them both.
I must have drifted off because I woke to some truly impressive cursing, both in creativity and duration, from my beautiful wife.
The problem was immediately apparent when I opened my eyes and found her crouched over the end of the bed, Leo upon it. Apparently, ladies’ education did not cover the changing of infants. I barely managed to catch the laugh before it escaped, and I received a rather scathing look for my effort.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Leopold Bennet.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“Both of you. I’m not certain he knows how yet, but I can tell that he’d like to. And I know you would.”
“May I ask why you haven’t called for a servant?”
She turned away from Leo and met my gaze with a glare that informed me, more thoroughly than words ever could, that I was, in fact, an infuriating lout. Likely that was a nicer version of what she wished to say to me.
“I understand. But we may need someone to take him eventually, though, for some things.”
“Not yet,” she replied primly, returning to fuss with the clout with gritted teeth.
“I think that bit?—”
“If you attempt to correct me, I will not be held responsible for what I do to you.” Well, this adventure had been nothing short of eye opening. I was beginning to understand why Celine had called my wife a shrew. An astonishing, incredible, impossibly brave shrew though.
“I think you’re doing a remarkable job and it is perfection itself.”
“Thank you,” she replied with an eye roll that had me biting back an indulgent smile.
She managed to get the clout and pilch wrapped in some sort of vague semblance of the way Mrs. Griffith had done it a few hours ago, before she tied it in a messy knot I was sure would have to be cut.
Charlotte shuffled back to the head of the bed, Leo wrapped in her arms. After she’d settled back in, her head dropped onto my shoulder with a sigh.
“I am still cross with you,” she murmured.
“Any particular reason?”
“We are not staying here, not without you.”
The temptation was there to feign ignorance, to allow her an escape when she felt well and remembered my poor showing in the carriage. But I was a weak man, and the future she seemed to be presenting… It was more than I could have dreamed.
She continued, “I know that is not what we agreed on. But… I didn’t think I’d fall in love with you.”
My heart gave a desperate thump before ceasing entirely. “You… you love me?” I asked on an exhale, more breath than sentence.
Carefully, so as not to wake our son, she turned to meet my gaze. “Yes, in spite of all your best efforts, I am, in fact, in love with you.” There was no lie in her whiskey eyes, just affection such as I had never known.
My lids slipped shut for a moment. I was overwhelmed. The sight of her, earnest and brave, threatened to stop my heart. When they opened again, my lashes were damp.
Matching tears fell across Charlotte’s cheeks. My hands found her jaw, my thumbs brushing away the drops before they fell on our son. “I love you too— both of you. More than anything. I’ve spent weeks, months, trying to determine how I was to live without you when you left.”
“Fortunately, you shall not have to. Because I am entirely uninterested in a future without you.” Charlotte shifted our babe and cupped my cheek with one hand. Her eyes were soft, forgiving, and so loving.
My chest filled with so much devotion for this woman and this babe that it physically ached.
“It is fortunate,” I agreed and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Her free hand caught my shirt and tugged me down to her lips, careful not to crush Leo.
And I kissed her. I kissed her so gently, so softly, that my heart seemingly forgot to beat—too full and distracted by joy and peace and love.