Chapter 6 #3
Grace collapsed back into the chair, stunned. To be a budding detective who had, in fact, successfully solved quite a few mysteries—how had she missed clues specifically happening to her own body? And so obvious that even Blake knew?
When they were pointed out in such a list, confirming Dr. Ross’ assessment all the more, how had she not noticed such apparent clues?
She released a frustrated huff. Because she hadn’t known what to look for, that’s how.
She knew how to examine a crime scene, had learned specific ways people might speak or act when hiding something, could even point out symptoms of certain types of poisons, but she’d never researched pregnancy at all!
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “If you knew, why didn’t you say something?”
“Because telling your cousin’s wife that she’s with child when she clearly hasn’t realized it herself is …
” Blake grimaced theatrically. “Well, it’s rather outside my area of expertise.
I was rather hoping you’d sort it out yourself or that some helpful female relation would materialize to handle it. ”
“You could have dropped a hint!”
“I did drop a hint! I suggested you see a physician!” Blake spread his hands. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, my dear Lady Astley, you appear to be in a delicate condition, which might result in another little Astley in a few months’ time’? That seemed rather forward.”
Despite her frustration, Grace felt a laugh bubble up at the look of utter discomfort on his face. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m practical,” Blake corrected. “And I do attempt to be prudent when it pleases me. There’s a difference.” He paused, studying her face, his grin spreading to light his eyes. “Now, was there something else you needed to discuss, or did you simply want to inform me of news I already possessed?”
The reminder of why she’d come brought Grace back to the moment. Her throat tightened. “I … I think we should bring Frederick home.”
Blake’s playfulness evaporated. “Ah. There it is.”
“Blake, please.” Grace leaned forward, her voice urgent. “You must know how to arrange it. Can’t you pretend to be a general or something? Or don’t you know someone important who could tell him his wife is in desperate need of her husband?”
“Like hundreds of other wives?” He raised a brow, and Grace felt wretched for the request.
Of course she wasn’t the only one.
There were likely dozens—hundreds—of other women carrying children whose fathers were at war. Most of them probably knew they were pregnant well before the halfway mark, but the truth remained the same for all of them.
They probably wanted their husbands home as much as Grace did.
“Frederick is exactly where he needs to be.” Blake leaned forward, catching her gaze. “He’s doing vital work—bridge inspections, engineering projects that keep supply lines open and save lives. I can’t pull him out of that because you’re afraid.”
“My mother died giving birth to my little brother,” Grace whispered.
Blake’s expression softened completely. “I’m certain that makes the fear worse, but it doesn’t make the outcome more likely. You’re young, healthy, and have an excellent physician. You have every reason to believe you’ll be fine.”
“It doesn’t make sense, Blake. I’ve searched Egyptian tombs, nearly drowned in Italy, and almost burned to death in Scotland,” Grace said, her voice breaking. “Why am I so terrified of having a baby?”
“Because this is something intimately dearer than any of those adventures. It’s one of the most tender and precious of all.
You’d be mad not to be a little intimidated at the thought.
” Blake reached over and tapped her hand where it rested on the chair arm.
“But, Grace”—he used her Christian name, and the intimacy hit her like a comforting embrace—”being terrified doesn’t mean you demand I somehow transport your darling Frederick away from his duties.
That’s not how anything works. Not even in those mystery novels you’re always reading. ”
Despite everything, Grace felt a watery laugh escape. “You make it sound even more ridiculous when you put it that way, and I had already decided it was rather ridiculous.”
“It’s endearing too, but ridiculous nonetheless.
” Blake smiled. “The instinct makes perfect sense, though. If I could snap my fingers and bring Freddie home to you, I would. But even if I had such power, which I’m neither confirming nor denying”—he winked—”it would take weeks.
Possibly months. By which time you’d have already worked yourself into such a state that you’d have sprouted gray hairs, and then Freddie would come home and blame me for not taking better care of you. ”
She laughed, and though she still needed time to sort through her emotions, calm began creeping back. Rationality too. The understanding that if God had chosen this moment—with Frederick far away—to bring about their child, then He must believe her capable of managing it without her husband.
Though she prayed fervently that she wouldn’t be without him long.
“Thank you, Blake.”
“Happy to steer you in the right direction, my lady.” Blake sat back, his expression turning more serious. “Now listen to me. You’re going to write a letter to Frederick. You’re going to tell him about the baby. And you’re going to let him share in this joy, even from a distance.”
He hesitated a moment, his gaze growing shadowed before his attention returned to her. “It will give him something wonderful to hold on to. Something to fight his way home for.”
The sudden earnestness pulled her focus away from herself, whom she realized she’d been much too focused on.
And in that moment when Blake’s charming shield gave way to such solemnity, she realized she knew very little about what Blake had been doing all these months during the war.
Frederick had mentioned something about “near the Front” and “away in France,” but nothing specific.
She could see the wounds in Blake’s eyes sometimes, like now, but they were rare and short-lived, usually gone as quickly as they appeared.
An amazing skill.
Skill? Why would he have practiced something like that so well? It just proved another question about her dear friend who didn’t quite add up to a gentleman of leisure.
Or at least what she’d been told a gentleman of leisure was supposed to be.
His lips crooked, a glimmer reentering his eyes. “And you’re going to start delegating more of the hospital work to Nurse Wilson and the others. No more running yourself ragged twelve hours a day.”
Her curiosity about him suddenly left her head. “But—”
“No buts. You have a tiny person to grow, and that’s a full-time occupation.
Everything else is secondary.” He wagged a finger at her.
“And don’t think I won’t be watching. If I catch you reorganizing the medical supplies at midnight or reading Conan Doyle to convalescent soldiers until all hours, I shall be very cross. ”
“You can’t order me about,” Grace protested, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him in challenge.
“Can’t I? I’m standing in for Frederick, which means I have proxy husband authority. It’s a legitimate occupation.” Blake’s expression was perfectly innocent, and she almost lost hold of her pseudo-serious expression. “I read about it somewhere.”
“Well, it didn’t work for him sometimes either.”
This time, Blake laughed. “You are right. I must trust you to know your own limits, but do try to listen to me, just a little, for Freddie’s sake?”
“I will try, but don’t expect miracles.” Grace’s smile spread wide. “My vices are enough to keep the sternest of protectors a little in doubt, don’t you think?”
“There she is,” Blake said softly, his smile genuine now.
“That’s the Grace that Freddie fell in love with.
The sharp, optimistic, determined woman who is quite strong enough to handle all of this.
Or at least strong enough with the right perspective.
” He tipped his gaze pointedly skyward and then drew in a breath before glancing toward the door.
“Now, I do believe we should see if Mrs. Lennox has any of her excellent seed cake so we might celebrate this news properly. And once you’ve written to Frederick, I shall look forward to seeing how your darling Zahra takes it. ”
Zahra! Grace’s heart lifted. She’d seen how Zahra took to helping care for her sister’s baby. Wouldn’t she adore this news? She’d asked about it on several occasions.
Grace nodded to herself. And she was determined to give Zahra far more information about marriage and babies than she’d ever received from her own family.
She frowned slightly. It was very likely Zahra already knew considerably more about such things at eleven than Grace had known at almost twenty-one.
Her eyes widened. Had Zahra known she was with child too?
That would prove disappointing on every front.
As they walked toward the downstairs breakfast room—which they’d kept as a private dining area for family—Blake kept up a steady stream of cheerful nonsense about Mrs. Lennox’s superior baking skills and the relative merits of seed cake versus lemon cake.
And the fear in Grace’s chest began to loosen with each step.
She was still terrified. Still wished Frederick were here. Still wasn’t entirely certain she’d survive what was coming.
But she had Blake’s steadying presence and Zahra’s love. And she had this baby—this tiny, impossible miracle growing inside her.
And she wanted to tell Frederick. Wanted him to know from afar that this Christmas season would bring a gift they hadn’t expected but had been hoping for.
Even if she was terrified.
Even if everything felt uncertain and frightening and completely overwhelming.
She almost smiled. But wasn’t that just another example of trusting God? When she couldn’t see the future and didn’t understand all the reasons, if she believed He loved her as much as He promised, she could trust His timing.
She could rest in His plan for one of the most remarkable mysteries of all.
Even with all her imaginings, she never would have planned to marry Frederick all those months ago. In fact, at first she’d thought her life was ruined. But here she was, living in the love of the most wonderful man.
Her hand went to her stomach. God had been so good to get her through many other unexpected things, even if she hadn’t thought the ending would turn out well. Why not something as beautiful as having a baby?
“Blake?” she said as they entered the breakfast room.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For … everything.”
He smiled and patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “That’s what family does, Grace. We muddle through the terrifying bits together and hope for the best.”
He seated her in a chair and headed toward the kitchen to find Mrs. Lennox and the coveted seed cake. Grace watched him go, warmth settling over her like a blanket.
Then her breath caught.
For the second time in only a few days, Blake walked without a limp.
A chill crept over her skin.
His gait was smooth, confident—nothing like the careful, pained steps he’d been taking since his arrival.
Grace sat perfectly still, attempting to work through the possibilities.
Blake wasn’t at Havensbrooke because he was wounded.
He wasn’t here as her substitute protector, filling in during Frederick’s absence.
He was here for some other reason entirely.
Something darker? More dangerous?
Something he was attempting to hide.
Grace’s detective instincts—which had apparently failed her entirely where her own pregnancy was concerned—suddenly sharpened, sorting through all the things she knew about him.
He always seemed to turn up when they needed him without any definite explanation for how he knew. He joked about having friends in high and low places all over the world. He knew how to use weapons surprisingly well and had the movements of a cat—agile and silent.
He was pretending to be wounded when he clearly was not.
And he was pretending not to know Helen Gale when he obviously did.
All of these little clues dug the spy notion even deeper.
Blake was certainly up to something.
And Grace, pregnant or not, was going to find out what it was.