Epilogue
Milo lifted up his young son from the nursery floor and tickled the wriggling toddler under the arms. “Where is your mama, my boy?”
“Mama is in the garden, of course,” Lucy told him, tickling her baby brother, too, and giggling with him. She took him from Milo and handed him to a waiting nursemaid. “It’s past time for your breakfast, Papa.”
“Of course. We had better fetch Mama and sit down together,” he said, knowing exactly where to find her.
Amelia had organized everyone, and Lucy had finally found her place in their growing family as her second in command. She was now the happiest he’d ever seen her. Amelia’s constancy and patient mothering had been exactly what the girl needed to thrive. “Shall we find her together?”
Lucy beamed. “I’d like that.”
Amelia spent a good part of every day tending her projects alone, though.
When the weather was good, she was always outdoors, and when the weather was bad, she carried an umbrella, though rarely held it over her head.
The estate had flourished in the last few years under her constant care and attention, and the house and grounds had never looked more lovely or welcoming.
He led his daughter down the stairs and along to the new garden bed Amelia was planting out. He admired the view of her derriere even as exasperation filled him.
At eight months pregnant, she ought not to be down on her knees planting bulbs and whatnot for the spring to come.
But he knew better than to do more than hint she should rest. Amelia had her own ideas of what she was capable of when it came to her physicality.
For example, she loved nothing more than to ride him into exhaustion in their bed.
Unlike his previous wife, who, once she became pregnant with first Lucy and then Adam, had denied Milo any pleasure in their marriage.
That was not Amelia’s way.
Amelia was not selfish or cold or ever distant. She craved him close and never neglected their children.
“This is coming along well,” he called out to her.
“Yes,” she agreed, sitting back on her haunches and smiling at the still-brown expanse around her.
“This is finished, and now we must wait for the spring.” Amelia thrust her hand out toward him, and Milo quickly rushed to help his wife rise.
She groaned as she did so, rubbing her lower back.
“Not a moment too soon, either,” she murmured, setting her hand on her large belly.
“I cannot garden when this lad kicks so much.”
Milo nodded but wisely kept his mouth shut and a smirk off his face. Amelia was most offended by the kicking of their unborn children.
This latest was their third child together, and he hoped for a girl this time.
Someone for Lucy to share her dolls with one day.
But Amelia was certain it was another boy, and he dared not contradict her.
She became increasingly irritated by disagreement and impatient as she waited for the baby to come.
He brought her out of the garden bed to stand under the shade of a nearby tree, where she could cool herself. Lucy crowded close to her, whispering encouragement to the baby within her belly to hurry up.
Amelia laughed a little. “Where is Adam?”
“Uncle Anthony took him fishing,” Lucy informed her, drawing back.
Amelia’s eyes flew to Milo’s. “Then where is Nathan and Grant then?”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Grant is with the nursemaid, and Nathan is with Uncle Anthony and Adam. Don’t worry, I sent a pair of servants along to help keep an eye on them all.”
“Good, my brother can hardly manage one nephew, but two…impossible.” Amelia suddenly shifted back to rest against the tree, wincing and rubbing the sides of her belly. “Oh, please stop, darling,” she told the moving lump under her gown. “I promise to rest now.”
Amelia talked to their unborn children constantly, almost as much as she did to their living ones.
“Do you really think that will work this time?”
She sighed. “Not really, but I have to try. Sometimes it soothes them.”
“It soothes all of us to see you like this. In your garden, surrounded by our children.”
She reached out with hands covered in dirt and caressed his face. “You well and truly kept your promise on that score, my love,”
“I failed not to love you, though,” he teased.
Amelia laughed. “I made the same foolish promise to you in the beginning, don’t forget. How much better is my life with love returned?”
“We love in equal measure, my dear,” he promised, clasping her hands and raising them to his lips. “And our love will only grow stronger every day we are together.”
She blew out a sharp breath. “We are happy only because we learned to trust again.”
“We did indeed, and it was exactly what we needed.” He put his hand on her belly—just as Amelia cried out in alarm.
Milo drew back, staring at her face. “What?
Amelia glanced down. “My waters just broke.”
He put his hand onto her belly and felt a contraction.
The baby wasn’t expected for another month, or so the midwife kept telling them. “Perhaps you fell the month before, as I suspected all along?”
Amelia cried out again, doubling over and clutching her belly. “Oh dear.”
“What is it?”
“I think the baby is coming. Immediately. I want to bear down.” She started to pant and ease herself down to the ground. “Milo. This baby won’t wait.”
Milo fell to his knees beside his wife, prepared to scoop her up into his arms and rush her back to the manor and the birthing room that was ready and waiting for this day. “I’ll get you back to the house, never fear.”
She held his hand on her belly.
“We’ll never make it,” she warned, curling up and gasping as a contraction came almost on top of the last one. She fell back against the tree, gasping.
Between breaths, she turned to Lucy, who was watching on in shock. “Lucy, darling, run for the housekeeper. Tell her the baby is coming this minute.”
The girl sprinted off, something she’d never have done before Amelia came into her life.
“What can I do?”
“Your coat, put it under me—and remember your promise,” Amelia ground out around another cry of pain. “You’ll have to catch him.”
Milo gulped, but he’d been present for Amelia’s last delivery, so he knew what was expected of a midwife’s replacement. “When have I ever broken my promises to you?”
“Just once.” Amelia panted, then grinned. “But this one is still important. You must not mourn for long if the worst—”
“Nothing will ever happen to you,” he said firmly, cutting her off. Amelia always worried that she might die in childbirth, as many women her age did. She wasn’t worried about her own death, but what the loss would do to him and the children. “Help is on the way.”
“Yes, but not soon enough, I suspect.”
He removed his coat as Amelia labored, raised her skirts above her knees, and saw the crown of the baby’s head between her legs.
He gulped again as he realized how far along she was with this delivery. “When did you feel the first contraction?”
“Only now.”
“She is too close for that to be true.” He steadied his own breathing, but inside, he was trying not to panic.
“The baby is a he,” Amelia insisted, fighting to steady her breathing, but she was loud and obviously in great pain as another contraction tore through her. “And Westfalls do things in their own time.”
He chose not to respond to that. “That’s it. That’s it. As easy as last time.”
“Easy?” she gasped. “You think this is easy?”
He’d been told any distraction could help a mother during labor. Although last time the distraction had been a roomful of his sisters clucking their tongues about him being in the room.
He heard shouts and the stampede of dozens of feet running toward them. He was rudely swept aside by the housekeeper, with no thought to his dignity or title. He scrambled to Amelia’s side and caught hold of her hand, then he heard Lucy’s loud sob.
“Take Lucy back to the house,” Milo ordered.
However, Amelia gestured for Lucy to come closer, then turned the child’s back on what was going on under her skirts. “Stay here by me, darling, and don’t peek. You can be the first to hold the baby when he arrives.”
“Yes, Mama.” But the girl’s bottom lip quavered with panic. “I love you, and I promise to love my brother, no matter that I asked for a sister.”
“That’s my girl,” Amelia whispered. “Now, put your fingers in your ears and don’t listen to another sound until we tap your shoulder. Sing if you must.”
If Lucy answered, he never heard it, as Amelia let out the loudest roar he’d ever heard from her.
But there were excited rumblings from the servants, then she cried out again but it seemed softer.
He clutched Amelia’s hand tightly, waiting to be told good news, watching only Amelia’s sweat-covered face as she labored to deliver their child.
“You’ve done it, my lady!” the housekeeper crowed finally. “It’s another precious bundle of joy, but one more push. That’s it. Good!”
Milo kept his eyes on Amelia, and his daughter facing the other way with her fingers in her ears. Amelia’s smile grew radiant as the babe cried, and the housekeeper declared the birthing complete and without any complications. Amelia nodded to the housekeeper and then smiled at him.
He risked a peek behind him and saw their new child for the first time, already swaddled in cloth that hid their sex. The babe appeared healthy and had a good set of lungs and he smiled in relief.
He turned back to Amelia, pleased it was over so quickly this time. He wiped the sweat from her brow. “How do you feel?”
“Wonderful,” she promised. “I always do afterward.”
He loosened his grip on her hand when the housekeeper attempted to hand him the baby. “Lucy was given the honor by her mother.”
Amelia tapped Lucy’s shoulder, and the girl spun around so fast, she wobbled. “Is it over? Is he here?”
The housekeeper handed Lucy the baby, and she beamed with sisterly pride. She had such a look of adoration on her face that Milo was forced to wipe away a tear. “Is it the boy you wanted, Mama?”
Amelia shook her head. “I was so wrong this time.”
Lucy let out a little squeal of delight. “Do I have a sister at last?”
Amelia nodded, then beamed a smile at him. “You were both right.”
“About you, about everything that matters,” he said, as wriggled closer to hold his wife in his arms, marveling that her smile was so bright after the shock of a sudden arrival.
The servants began to stand up and talk of returning her to the manor.
But Amelia shook her head. “I want to stay here in the garden a bit longer. Can we?”
“Yes, darling,” he said, as he kissed her brow and snuggled her closer. He loved her even more for being constant but unpredictable in the best ways. “I will carry you back though.”
He asked Lucy to hand the child to her mother at last. When the baby was settled in Amelia’s arms, he noticed his brother-in-law standing in the distance with his sons, grinning like a loon.
His brother saluted him, and called out to Lucy to join them.
Milo gazed at those he loved most and fought back tears of joy and pride.
Amelia tugged on his cravat. “We made love all night early last spring in this garden, which would line up with her arrival perfectly.”
“Well, we’ll never know for sure, will we?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“But it’s fitting she was born here. After all, that’s where our love truly began to grow, didn’t it?” He brushed a damp lock of hair back from her face. “In a garden that you made out of love for someone who didn’t deserve it.”
Amelia shook her head. “Oh, Milo. You deserved to be loved, and so did I. I’m so glad you believed me a necessary wife then.”
“Essential,” he corrected, making her laugh, and him marvel at how Amelia had changed them all. She’d made their family complete. “Utterly and completely the only woman I will ever need.”
Milo lay his head against Amelia’s and gazed down at his daughter, grateful beyond words for the miracles of his marriage. “What are we going to name her?”
“Well, what about Hyacinth? I was just planting them in the new garden bed.”
He laughed and laughed and agreed with her decision, as he found he always did in the end.