Page 112 of Caught by the Forbidden Duke
“March or April.” Dominic watched Elinor hold his wife’s hands. “And you,” he said, to Lucien. “She told me last week. Are you going to tell them?”
Lucien looked at Elinor. She had heard; she turned and looked at her husband, and the color rose in her face.
“It appears,” Elinor said, with the brightness of a woman who has decided to deliver good news properly, “that the Barrow and Stanton households are in something of a race.”
A laugh moved through the small group that had gathered, and Annabelle took Elinor’s hand.
Miles, when they found him, set his glass down on the mantel the instant Annabelle said the words. He set it down with the deliberate care of a man who could not currently trust his hands. Then he turned to Dominic.
“You absolute wretch,” he said, and his voice cracked, and he did not bother covering it.
He grabbed Dominic by the shoulder and shook him once, hard enough to mean something far beyond “wretch”. Then he collected himself, picked up his glass, turned to Annabelle, and bowed over her hand in an old-fashioned way that was entirely sincere.
“I am extraordinarily pleased for you both,” he said. “James will make a very thorough elder brother.”
“He doesn’t know yet,” Annabelle said.
“He will take it with tremendous seriousness and begin researching the developmental stages within the week.” Miles straightened. “I am never wrong about James.” He raised his glass. “To spring, then. Both springs.”
Helena wept. It was immediate and complete, and she waved off the nearby guests who turned at the sound, and then put both arms around Annabelle and held her. When she stepped back, she wiped her eyes with the back of her knuckle and did not apologize for any of it.
“In October there was something different about you,” she announced. “I could not say what it was. I knew there was something.” She turned to Dominic. “You are going to be a father.”
“I am aware of it,” he said.
“Are you? You are standing there as though it were perfectly ordinary.”
“I am attempting composure.”
“Stop,” Helena said, and she hugged him with the completeness she brought to all things. He put one arm around her shoulders and let the room go on without him.
Lady Rosenhall, when they came to her, took Annabelle’s hand and held it with both of hers. She did not speak immediately. She looked at Annabelle for a moment, and then she said:
“The child will be fortunate in its mother. That is all a child truly needs to begin.”
Annabelle looked at her. “That is the kindest thing you have ever said to me.”
“It is the truest thing,” Lady Rosenhall said, and released her hand, and moved to find tea.
By ten o’clock, the guests were taking their leave. It went the way evenings go when they have been good: no abruptness, no awkwardness at the door, only the gradual dispersal of people who had heard something worth hearing and were glad about it.Mrs. Howell and the footmen had begun to clear the music room—softly, with the discretion of a household that knew its work.
Lucien was last. He kissed Annabelle on the cheek, held Dominic’s hand one final time, and said only: “Thursday.”
“Thursday,” Annabelle confirmed.
The door closed. The hall went quiet.
James was in the corridor in his good coat, his governess a step behind. He was looking at the floor.
Annabelle crouched to him. “James.”
He looked up.
“You played very well tonight,” she said. “I want you to know I was proud of you.”
He looked at his shoes. Then at her. Then at Dominic, briefly, and back at her.
“I was worried,” he said. “When I sat down. My hands went—” He made a small movement with his fingers.
