Page 42 of The Bachelor Spy
Childbirth?
All the sweet warmth instantly congealed into stone in her chest.
A baby meant childbirth.
And childbirth meant …
Her mother’s face flashed through her mind. Beautiful, laughing, alive. And then gone, taking her baby brother with her.
“My mother—” Grace’s breath came shorter, and she dropped back into the chair, attempting to keep her imagination from dashing away into images of her own death followed by a beautiful funeral and poor Frederick’s deep remorse. “She … died in childbirth.”
“I am sorry for your loss, but you’re young and healthy.” Dr. Ross pulled up a chair beside her, his expression compassionate. “I believe your mother was older when she had your brother. Your situation is quite different.”
“But women die in childbirth all the time.” Grace’s voice came out smaller than she’d intended. Where was all her bravery now? “Even young, healthy women. Even when everything seems fine.”
“Some do,” Dr. Ross acknowledged. “But many more do not. Thousands of healthy babies are born every day to healthy mothers. There’s no reason to think you won’t be one of them.”
Grace clung to his declaration, wanted to believe him. But all she could think about was Frederick, far away in France, not knowing. Not being here.
What if something went wrong? What if she died before he ever came home?
What would that do to him—to learn he’d finally gotten the child, perhaps even the son, he’d longed for, only to lose his wife in the process?
Her darling hero would be devastated. Destroyed.
And Zahra. Dear heavens, Zahra would lose another mother.
“Ihaveto survive this pregnancy, Dr. Ross. I can’t leave my daughters to be as ignorant and blinded as I am to such intimate things in a woman’s life. It just won’t be fair to them at all.”
“Of course not.” Dr. Ross seemed to wrestle with his smile. “And the likelihood of that is very slim. I know you are a woman of faith. And I hope you will remember that God is in this very moment, as well as the ones you cannot even see yet.”
The reminder provided a bit of comfort, as if the truth was trying to work its way through her sudden fear. “Yes, of course.”
“And if He’s taken care of you through your many adventures across the world, then don’t you think you can trust Him in this very dear adventure so close to your heart?”
Her eyes warmed with a sheen of tears, more comfort, more truth seeping into her mind. “Yes. I can.”
“Good.” He stood. “Besides, worrying about what might happen won’t help you or the baby. What will help is taking care of yourself. Rest when you’re tired and eat well. Your first duty now is to this child.”
Grace pressed a hand to her stomach again. A child. A tiny person growing inside her, who might have Frederick’s eyes or her red hair or some wonderful combination of both.
If she survived long enough to meet them.
“Does it always feel like this?” she whispered. “This terrifying?”
His gaze turned tender. “What I understand from others who have much more experience than I, becoming a parent is the most terrifying thing in the world.” Dr. Ross smiled. “It’s also the most wonderful.”
Tears blurred her vision of his face and slowly began a trail down her cheeks. She didn’t bother wiping them away.
“Should I … should I write to Lord Astley?” Her voice cracked. “Or wait until …”
“That’s entirely up to you.” He dipped his head. “There’s no wrong answer, but I feel certain such news would certainly bring joy to your husband in the middle of such a dark place.”
After Dr. Ross left with promises to check on her regularly, Grace sat alone in the morning room, both hands pressed to her stomach.
A baby.
She was going to be a mother.
