Epilogue #5
Then, from somewhere in the crowd, Charles's delighted laugh rang out like a bell. "It's tradition!" he shouted with evident glee. "The Duchess of Montclaire's signature blessing!"
For a moment, the ballroom teetered on the edge of either scandal or humor, the guests uncertain which direction to fall.
Then Alexander, still dripping and still holding Ophelia steady with one arm, did something extraordinary.
He laughed. Not his usual controlled chuckle or sardonic amusement, but genuine, full-bodied laughter that transformed his face entirely.
"As I was saying," he managed between laughs, "marriage requires adaptation. And apparently, in our case, a substantial investment in replacement evening wear."
The tension broke like a dam bursting. Some guests laughed, others gasped, Lady Jersey appeared to be having another fainting spell, but Alexander ignored them all. His attention was entirely focused on Ophelia, who was mortified beyond description and swaying alarmingly on her feet.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears starting to stream down her face. "Your speech was perfect, and I've ruined everything again, and..."
"Ophelia," he interrupted gently, steadying her with both hands now despite the state of his clothing. "Are you ill? You've been pale all evening."
She looked up at him, seeing nothing but concern in his grey eyes where she'd expected anger or disappointment. "I'm not ill," she managed. "I'm... that is, we're... oh, Alexander, I'm increasing."
The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment before their meaning registered. Alexander's expression shifted from concern to shock to something that looked remarkably like joy.
"You're... we're having a child?" His voice was loud enough to carry to the nearest tables, and the news spread through the ballroom like wildfire.
"I wanted to tell you properly," Ophelia said miserably. "After the ball, when we were alone. I had a whole speech prepared about expanding our family progress, and instead I've made another spectacular mess of everything."
"A mess?" Alexander pulled her closer, apparently completely forgetting that they were standing in front of two hundred people while covered in the remains of dinner.
"Ophelia, you've just given me the most wonderful news imaginable.
We're having a child. An heir. A baby who will probably inherit your unfortunate timing but hopefully my ability to remain upright during crucial moments. "
Despite everything, Ophelia found herself laughing through her tears. "You're not angry?"
"Angry? I'm ecstatic. Also somewhat damp and definitely aromatic, but primarily ecstatic.
" He turned to address the room at large, still keeping one arm firmly around Ophelia.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm delighted to announce that the Duchess and I are expecting an addition to our family.
And before anyone asks, yes, we apparently always make our major announcements in the most dramatic fashion possible.
It's becoming something of a family tradition. "
The room erupted in a mixture of congratulations and excited chatter.
Robert was pushing through the crowd looking emotional, Henry was already composing what would undoubtedly be an epic poem about the evening, Edward was collecting his winnings from Frederick, and Charles was practically bouncing with excitement.
"I'm going to be an uncle!" Charles announced to anyone who would listen. "I'm going to teach the baby everything...riding, poetry, the proper way to avoid breaking spherical objects!"
"You're not teaching my child anything about spherical objects," Alexander said firmly, though he was still smiling. "In fact, we may ban all spheres from the estate before the birth, just to be safe."
Mrs. Coleridge had made her way through the crowd, her face beaming with grandmotherly pride.
"I knew it," she said triumphantly. "The moment I saw you this morning, I knew.
You have that particular glow that only comes with early pregnancy.
" She embraced her daughter carefully, mindful of both their gowns.
"Though perhaps we should get you somewhere quieter, dear one. You look rather unsteady."
"An excellent suggestion," Alexander agreed immediately.
"If you'll all excuse us, I need to see my wife settled comfortably.
Please, continue enjoying the evening. There's an orchestra prepared to play, and I believe the champagne is particularly excellent.
Charles, I'm putting you in charge of ensuring no one breaks anything valuable. "
"Me?" Charles looked both honoured and horrified. "You're putting me in charge of protecting valuable objects?"
"Consider it a redemption opportunity," Alexander said dryly. "Besides, you're the only one who truly understands the dangers involved."
As Alexander guided Ophelia from the ballroom, she heard the orchestra striking up and conversation resuming with even more animation than before.
Their second dramatic announcement had apparently cemented their reputation as the most entertaining couple in society, even if it wasn't quite the dignity Alexander had originally hoped for.
They made it to the family drawing room before Ophelia's legs gave out entirely. Alexander caught her easily, settling her on the sofa and kneeling beside her with no regard for his already ruined evening clothes.
"How long have you known?" he asked gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face with infinite tenderness.
"Two weeks," she admitted. "I've been hiding the morning sickness because you were so determined to make tonight perfect, and I didn't want to distract you."
"You've been suffering in silence for two weeks to protect my feelings about a ball?" He looked genuinely distressed by this revelation. "Ophelia, nothing matters more than your health and happiness. Certainly not my need to prove something to society."
"You worked so hard on your speech," she said miserably. "Seven drafts, Alexander. Seven drafts, and I ruined the delivery completely."
"You gave me something infinitely better than a perfect speech," he corrected, taking her hands in his. "You gave me the news that we're having a child. Do you have any idea how happy that makes me?"
"Really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better about destroying another formal occasion?"
"Really. Though I am beginning to think we should avoid formal occasions altogether. We don't seem to have much luck with them."
A knock at the door interrupted them, and Mrs. Morrison entered with a tea tray and an expression of grandmotherly concern.
"I've brought peppermint tea for Her Grace, and some dry toast. It helps with the nausea, or so I'm told.
And Your Grace, I've sent a footman to prepare fresh clothing for you. "
"Thank you, Mrs. Morrison," Alexander said gratefully. "What would we do without you?"
"Muddle through considerably less efficiently, I imagine," the housekeeper replied with unusual warmth. "Might I offer my congratulations? A baby in the house will be wonderful. It's been far too long since these halls heard the sound of children's laughter."
After Mrs. Morrison departed, Alexander sat beside Ophelia on the sofa, pulling her gently against his side despite his damp and decidedly aromatic state.
"Your brothers are going to be insufferable," he observed after a moment. "Charles has already declared his intention to be the favourite uncle, and I overheard Edward placing bets on whether the child will inherit your tendency toward dramatic timing or my supposed coldness."
"What did you wager?" Ophelia asked, managing a small smile.
"I didn't wager, but if I had, I'd wager on the child inheriting your warmth, your kindness, and hopefully your ability to see the best in people, even when they don't deserve it."
"You deserved it," Ophelia said firmly. "You always deserved it. You just needed someone to look past all that ice to see the man underneath."
"And instead you cast up your accounts on me. Twice now."
"It's a gift. Not everyone can claim such consistency in their dramatic gestures."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the distant sounds of the ball continuing without them.
Then Alexander said thoughtfully, "We'll have to redecorate the nursery.
It hasn't been used since I was a baby, and I suspect it is rather depressing.
All dark blues and hunting scenes, if I recall correctly. "
"Something cheerful," Ophelia agreed. "With flowers and light and perhaps some of those chaos elements you've grown so fond of."
"I haven't grown fond of chaos," Alexander protested. "I've simply learned to tolerate it as an inevitable consequence of marrying a Coleridge."
"You love the chaos. Admit it."
"I love you," he corrected. "The chaos is a package arrangement I've learned to accept."
Another knock interrupted them, and this time the entire Coleridge contingent pushed into the room, all talking at once in their characteristic style.
"Phee, are you all right?" Robert demanded, looking ready to call for a physician immediately.
"You're having a baby!" Charles exclaimed as if this was news. "Can I teach it to ride?"
"The child will need a proper education," Henry added. "I'll start compiling a reading list immediately."
"It's not even born yet," Edward pointed out. "Perhaps we could let it arrive before planning its entire future?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Charles countered. "Besides, this baby is going to be spectacular. It's combining Montclaire dignity with Coleridge enthusiasm. It'll probably conquer the world by age five."
"Or destroy it," Alexander muttered, though he was smiling.