Chapter Twenty-Seven
When the day finally came that Caroline was allowed to return to Swanleigh House—under strict orders to continue her rest, of course—she truly understood what Emily had told her of Oliver’s “cloying carefulness” because Gideon proceeded to do precisely that.
He hardly left her side unless it was business he could put off no longer.
She never had to ask for anything because he was always right there, predicting her every need and summoning the staff before she could so much as raise her finger toward the bellpull.
She loved the man, but good grief! He was taking no chances when it came to her and their baby, who, by the way, was as displeased by the inactivity as she was, restless and moving almost constantly.
Gideon’s eternal presence might have annoyed her more, however, had she not known that it came from the purest love.
He never missed an opportunity to tell her as much, to hold her close, to press tender kisses to her face, her neck, and even the burgeoning swell of her ripe abdomen.
This, of course, did not mean that Caroline did not suffer from bouts of frustration and melancholy.
One week after their return to Swanleigh House, Gideon joined Caroline on the bed and propped his head on his fist. “How are you faring, darling?”
“Well enough,” Caro grumbled. It wasn’t fair for her to be put out with him, but there were few outlets for her emotions at that point.
With Parliament in session, he’d spent much of the day meeting with other members of his party to discuss a proposal for reforming the system in place to care for foundlings—a cause to which Caroline knew in her heart was worthy of lending her husband.
“Well enough to leave the bed so I might show you something?” His dark brows were raised in excitement.
That caught Caroline’s interest.
“Of course,” she agreed, though she was baffled. She was dressed in only her nightshift and, while she’d been allowed to return home, her activity was still restricted. Where could he possibly wish to take her?
He helped her rise and slip on her dressing gown before guiding her across the hall to a closed bedchamber door.
“Now, close your eyes,” he said.
“Gideon—”
“Close them,” he laughed, sounding every bit like a child who could not wait to present an accomplishment. She complied and heard the snick of the doorknob before his hands closed around her upper arms. He gently guided her into the space and positioned her just so before he said, “Open.”
Caroline blinked into the warm afternoon light to discover that the bedchamber—once Gideon’s childhood space—had been converted into a nursery, and a beautifully-appointed one at that.
A bassinet swathed in ivory linens and a beautifully carved dark wood rocking chair took place of prominence in the space.
She could smell the new papering in alternating stripes of fresh white and warm, dandelion yellow.
Lace curtains were draped from the tall windows aimed toward the gardens below.
A plush rug in blues and gold was laid in the center of the room, so soft she felt as if her bare toes sank into it like sun-warmed sand.
She clasped her hands to her breast as she turned in the circle, afraid to blink lest she miss any detail.
Everything she saw spoke of love and care.
The gleaming baseboards, the oil painting of a bucolic field dotted with fluffy lambs, the little wooden figurines of cows, sheep, horses, and other livestock arranged so precisely on the windowsill; it was all so beautifully and carefully put together that it brought tears to her eyes and her throat clogged with emotion.
“Oh, Gideon…” she breathed.
He was at her side in an instant. “Do you not care for it? We can change anything you do not—” His words died when she gave a vehement shake of her head.
It was so reminiscent of their first night of marriage—her walking into a new space he’d set up for her as best he could, nervous that she would like it, and she…
utterly gobsmacked by the fact that someone had felt her worthy of the effort.
One of her hands drifted to her belly, rubbing in slow circles as she turned in awe, tears unheeded and trickling down her cheeks.
“I love it,” she finally said tremulously and turned to meet his gaze. “I love you.” Was it her imagination, or were his eyes suspiciously bright? “I love you so much, Gideon. I love you so very much, and I don’t expect I will ever stop.”
She stepped close to him and he immediately wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly.
“I love you, too, Caro, to such a degree that it terrifies me.”
“Love is not meant to be so scary,” she replied with a watery laugh.
“It is for someone who has never known it.”
Caroline tilted her head back to look up into his face, sympathizing with the sentiment.
“Then we shall learn it together as we go.” She stretched on her toes and pressed her lips to his until he groaned with need.
His fingers tightened in the back of her dressing gown and every inch of their fronts were pressed together as close as possible with her stomach caught between them, but Gideon did not attempt to demand more.
She could feel his tension in every one of his breaths, the tremble of his muscles against and around her.
Reaching around, she untangled his fingers from her clothing and brought his palm to her waist, positioning it just right and covering it with her own hand. The babe immediately unleashed a wallop of a kick.
“And this one, too. He knows his father, and we will learn to love together. The three of us.”
“I like the sound of that,” Gideon said as he swiftly bent and lifted Caroline into his arms to carry her back to their bed. He lay her down with infinite care, peppering her face with feather-light kisses while simultaneously lowering himself beside her.
They lost track of time as the world narrowed to the small space inhabited by the two of them.
They touched and kissed, aching for one another, just savoring the nearness and openness between them.
Gone was all the awkwardness of lying in bed with one’s closest friend, replaced by the comforting companionship and unconditional love of family.
Caroline’s recovery was slower than she would have liked, reinforced by Gideon’s overprotectiveness.
Other than Gideon’s efforts, her saving graces lay in Emily and Lady Juliette.
They made sure she was never lacking reading material or interesting stories while she was confined to her rooms. She found the stories from Lady Night’s and Dr. McCullom’s medical practice to be particularly interesting.
Hardly a day went by that she didn’t enjoy an amusing anecdote revolving around the colorful characters.
All the distractions helped to pass her days; the nights when she was restless and uncomfortable in her own body, she would lie beside her husband and have silent conversations with the growing life inside of her.
The movements, small and large, reminded her that she was never alone and that her future crept inexorably closer.
Finally, the long-awaited day came when Caroline was released from the restrictions that had so plagued her for nearly two full months.
“The babe’s movements are regular; your appetite and strength are hearty.
I see no reason why you cannot return to some of your normal activities, within reason,” Dr. Bianchi had said, much to Caroline’s relief.
“What are her restrictions?” Gideon asked, looking less than pleased at the thought of his wife being unleashed upon the world once more. “Surely she should still take care?”
Caroline could have kissed the physician for what he said next: “None. By my estimate, nine and thirty weeks have passed. A healthy babe can be born any day. In fact, I encourage healthy expectant mothers to take walks and enjoy fresh air, to keep up on their physical activity at this point in their pregnancies; it often makes labor and childbirth easier.”
She shot her husband a self-satisfied glance. “See, Swanleigh? I may resume my activities.” The man knew bloody well what she meant and what she wanted—what she had longed for for weeks at that point and felt like she might burn alive from the inside out if she didn’t receive soon.
The muscles of his finely-crafted jaw flexed and he looked back at Bianchi. “When you say she may resume her activities, that means…?”
The physician offered a knowing smile, likely having been volleyed this question many times over. “It means, you may resume relations, if you would like—”
“Yes!” Caro lurched forward with as much grace as a cow attempting to leap, and narrowed a determined glare at Gideon. “Yes.”
Bianchi averted his head to pack away his kit and, she suspected, to mask his amusement. “You would be surprised how often I am asked this question, and how many husbands and wives are shocked when I advise them to indulge. In fact, it may even be beneficial—move things along.”
“Meaning?” Gideon asked skeptically.
“There are cases where ‘indulging’ has helped lead to labor, especially in cases where a birth is overdue. You are not yet at that point, but your pregnancy has been rather fraught with difficulties. I suspect you would not be opposed to reaching the end.”
That sealed it for Caroline. She was fully ready to have Gideon back in her bed and this baby out of her body.
If only Gideon weren’t so bloody conscientious.