Epilogue
February 14, 1816
Sutcliffe House
Manchester Square
Mayfair, London
Alexander gritted his teeth against the sound of Madeline’s screams of pain. She’d been in active labor for the past five hours, and though he sat behind her on the bed for moral support and to lend his strength, hearing her in so much agony had the power to lay him low.
I would take this away from you and suffer it myself if I could.
Instead, he put his lips to the delicate shell of her ear and whispered, “One more push, sweeting. It’s almost over.”
They’d decided to use a smaller bedchamber for the birth of the babe, for then she could nurse the child or recover from the ordeal in private without him coming in and out all the time and disturbing her. In the past months, though, they had redecorated the room into a nursery, so the transition, when Madeline was ready, would be easier for the baby. The adjoining dressing room had been converted into a small bedroom where the nursery maid would eventually sleep.
With the remainder of the coin he’d amassed from his mercenary days, he’d set plans into motion to bring his estates out of disrepair. Though he was near dun territory at the moment, he had every confidence those circumstances would soon reverse.
“Alex…” She panted while digging her fingernails into his legs at her sides. “It hurts so much. I’m not strong enough to survive.”
He ignored the pain, for she was struggling to deliver their first child into the world. “My girl, you are more than strong enough. I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.”
When they’d wed in June of last year, it was in a small, intimate ceremony because her brother had just been murdered and she was supposed to be in mourning, according to society’s rules. But then, both Madeline and he decided that since Richard had been naught but a bastard all along—until the end—that said rule was merely a suggestion. She came out of mourning a few months later with the announcement that she was increasing, the pregnancy no doubt a product of that memorable week they’d spent together after he’d had her kidnapped.
And she’d led him on a merry chase ever since.
The midwife sat on a three-legged stool at the foot of the bed, urging his wife to bear down. Two maids hovered, waiting with porcelain bowls of hot water and clean rags. “The babe’s head is nearly through. Come now,” she encouraged in a strict voice as she concentrated on what was happening between Madeline’s thighs. “No time for dithering or weakness. Push again. Your life and the babe’s depend on it.”
Well, she didn’t quite need to say that, but there was always the danger of death during childbearing. It happened far too often, and he refused to lose his wife to what was a natural process. Tamping down on his own fear, Alexander transferred his hands to his wife’s drawn-up knees in the hopes she would borrow from his strength.
“Keep going. Once the babe is born you can rest.” When she tossed her head, he pressed his lips to her sweat-dampened neck. “It is Valentine’s Day, sweeting, and you are about to give me the greatest gift a woman can.”
“Do shut up, Ravenhurst,” she said around what sounded like clenched teeth. “Besides, I thought love was the greatest gift.”
He chuckled. “Isn’t having a child evidence of our love?” Squeezing her knees, he said, “Now, push. I am anxious to meet this babe.”
“So am I.” Then she uttered another chilling scream while he died a thousand deaths inside, trying not to think about the horrors of hemorrhaging, infection, blood loss, or other complications that would steal them both away from him.
“That’s it, duckie. One more push,” the midwife said as she stood up from her stool. “The head is out.”
When Madeline followed instructions, the midwife chuckled.
“Here are the shoulders. Broad for a babe, so I’ll wager it’s a boy.” She glanced at Alexander. “One more big push.”
He kissed his wife’s nape. “I’m so proud of you, love. You are doing a bang-up job, and it’s nearly over.” How much did he adore her? For this was a task he couldn’t undertake, and if he could, no doubt he would have perished from the effort. There was a reason why God made women bear children and left the protecting of such to the men.
She uttered a scream as she pushed for all she was worth. Seconds later, the sweet cry of a baby rent the air, and Madeline burst into tears. “Is it well?”
For several moments, the midwife fussed over the infant. She wielded a pair of silver scissors, for why Alexander couldn’t say, and he couldn’t see what she was doing. He swore his heart stopped beating until the older woman held up a small, squirming babe still covered with blood and other fluids. “As you can see, it is clearly a boy and from the way he’s yelling his angst to the world, I’d say he’s quite healthy.”
“Thank God.” Though the urge to cast up his accounts grew strong, Alexander continued to hold his wife. “You did it, sweeting. You’ve delivered our child.”
Another scream issued from her throat. “Oh, there are more birthing pains! I thought it was over.”
He glanced at the midwife, who handed off the tiny, angry infant to one of the maids, no doubt to clean him and swaddle him. “What is happening?”
The older woman pressed her hands to Madeline’s still taut abdomen. “It seems your heir wasn’t the only babe inside her.”
“What?” Alexander almost fainted off the bed. “Twins?”
“Yes.” She glanced at Madeline, who threw back her head and was openly crying either from pain or exertion, he couldn’t say. “Push, Your Grace. This one will go more quickly since your body is already at that point.”
“Alex, I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered to him.
“I know you’re exhausted, and I know you’re sick of the pain, but just give a bit more.” When she turned her head, he pressed his lips to hers in a sloppy kiss. “For me, sweeting. One big push and then it’s over, and we’ll have twins.” Never in his wildest imaginings did he think that would happen.
She screamed again but bore down, grunting and alternately screaming, until she was completely spent. But that was all it took, for another infant cry joined the first, and then Madeline collapsed backward against his chest. “There are no twins in my family.”
A chuckle left his throat, for how could it not? A good portion of the danger was over. “I think I’ve been remiss in telling you everything about my past. I was a twin, but my brother died in his early infancy.”
“This babe is a girl. Your Graces, you now have a son and a daughter, and from the looks of them, they are both fighters,” the midwife said with a smile in her voice as she worked over the new infant.
An hour later, after the last processes of the birth were completed, Madeline sat propped on the bed against a mountain of pillows with exhaustion lining her face and her hair damp with sweat. The midwife had folded a few linens squares into long lengths and put them between his wife’s legs to stem any more blood flow, then she covered Madeline with a sheet and a thin blanket. After that, she put the boy into his wife’s arms and one of the maids put the swaddled girl into his.
“We’ll leave you alone with your family for a few minutes, Your Grace. Then I will need to check on Her Grace’s health and instruct her on how to nurse the babies.”
“Thank you.” He never looked at the midwife, for the whole of his attention was on the tiny little package in his arms as he sank into a hardbacked wooden chair at Madeline’s bedside. While the door closed with a soft snick, he couldn’t help but caress the little cherub cheek with a fingertip. “She’s so tiny.”
“So is he.” His son had one fist in his mouth, sucking away as he fussed with a red face. Madeline leaned over slightly to peer at their daughter, who was much more placid. “They are both precious, and I’m so happy that we have a little family of our own.”
“As am I.” And because she’d taught him that showing emotion didn’t make a man weak, he let his tears of gratitude and relief flow. “Thank you for this, sweeting. I feel as if this—you and the babes—are my reward for surviving. Much of my guilt and some of my anger has faded.”
“That’s wonderful. But I didn’t do this on my own. You did much of the hard work in order to allow for that growth.” For the space of several heartbeats, silence reigned in the room. “I want you to sell my mother’s ruby. Use it to set us back on our feet and provide for the babes.”
“But your singing career had only just started before you went into confinement.” She’d been engaged by heads of state, the Regent, prominent members of parliament, and many others, for everyone was enchanted by her voice. And sometimes, when they were alone, she’d sing for him. Afterward, they would indulge in frantic coupling, for he was deeply in love with his wife.
“I will sing to our children.” When she met his gaze, hers reflected so much love, he caught his breath. “Once they are older, we can revisit my career. It’s not as if I’ll suddenly forget how to sing.”
“God, I love you.” He leaned over and bussed her cheek, careful not to disturb the small babe in his arms. “Thank you for ushering in a redemption of sorts. I suppose I’ll never quite be the morally upstanding man you’d hoped for, but who I am is nothing to sneeze at.”
“I love the man you are, so please don’t change too much. With the exception of perhaps growing out your hair and whiskers again. I rather enjoy them.” Then she yawned. “Right now, though, I feel as if I could sleep for days.”
He stood and gently added the second babe to her other arm. “I’ll call for the midwife.” Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Do you know how amazing you are?”
“Only as much as you.”
With a hand to his heart, he made his way to the door. If he hadn’t been a complete arse and kidnapped her for his plan of revenge, he never would have met her aside from their past. And that would have been the real tragedy, for she’d completely changed his life.
Or rather, she’d given it back to him when he’d thought all was lost.
What a nodcock I was to think there is no such thing as love in the world anymore.
His wife had proved him wrong over and over, and with luck, she would continue to do so. And frankly, he couldn’t wait.
The End