Page 28 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘Aye, they’re forgiven. But shouldn’t you be in bed? What does Nicholson say?’

‘He says lying in bed would be the worst thing for me,’ Nina said, paraphrasing a good deal for her own purposes. ‘He says I should avoid strenuous activities or lifting anything heavy, but otherwise carry on as normal.’

‘Hmph,’ Mr Cowling said, and she suspected he would be checking with Nicholson himself at the first opportunity. Then he stood, too, took her hands, and looked down at her seriously for a long moment. She wondered what was coming – and then, just before he said it, she knew, and wished she could prevent it.

‘That thing I said to you, Christmas before last – I wish I’d bitten my tongue out before I said it.’

‘Please don’t,’ she said unhappily, trying to pull her hands away. But he was stronger than her. ‘It’s forgotten.’

‘I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me, and it’s all come about as naturally as can be, just as it should! If only I’d been patient…Can you ever forgive me for suggesting such a thing to you? I know you were shocked, so don’t deny it. I was half out of my head at the time – so worried and ashamed that I wasn’t being a proper husband to you. When I think about it—’

‘Then don’t think about it,’ she said determinedly. ‘It is forgiven and forgotten. I won’t have it make a shadow over our baby.’ Where did she get the confidence to talk to him like this? she wondered. It must be something to do with motherhood – a lioness defending her cub.

His cub.

He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Thank you,’ he said tenderly. ‘I won’t ever speak of it again. I’m so happy, my Nina, and I love you so much. We’ll be a proper family now. I wish I’d not told everybody already, so I could go and tell ’em now!’

She laughed, happy for him, and relieved. ‘Speaking of which,’ she said, ‘aren’t a lot of people waiting for you to tell them things right now?’ He looked puzzled. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at a meeting?’

His face cleared. ‘You’re right, I am. I don’t want to leave you, but—’

‘Business comes first.’

‘No,’ he said seriously, ‘you come first. Always. But business must be done.’

‘Go,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

When he had gone – she heard him say something jubilant to Mrs Deering in the hall as he whirled out, his exit as noisy as his entrance had been – she found her legs were trembling and had to sit down.

She was relieved that he had no shadow of doubt that the baby was his – had never doubted it. And why should he? After the miserable struggles of the early years he was able to perform his manly function, easily, often, and with great pleasure. And he had always known how abhorrent she had found his suggestion of getting a child from elsewhere.

He had rediscovered his manhood, and she had conceived. There was no room or reason for doubt.

As for herself, she believed the child was his. She did not regret her one night with Giles – perhaps she should, but she didn’t – but it was not real life. Real life was marriage and Mr Cowling and the coming child, and that was how it had to be, and how it was.

That had been purely cerebral reasoning, until the day before, when she had felt the astonishing, frightening sensation of something alive moving inside her. The baby, which had been an idea, was suddenly substantial, a living thing, and all the implications of being pregnant had fallen on her with the unexpectedness of an avalanche. This creature would grow inside her, she would give birth to it: it would be a human being with its own separate life, as real as hers, as that of anyone around her – a person she did not yet know, but whose very existence depended on her.

And with the terrifying excitement had come a fierce determination to defend and protect this creature with every fibre of her being. Her child, her cub, and it would be born to her and Mr Cowling, and he would be a good father to it – she was sure of that – and together they would raise it and defend it from all harm.

No shadows.

His cub.

Someone she would love who would love her; someone of her very own.

The brown mare Nesta stood quietly in front of the mounting block, her kind eyes tranquil, one long ear turned back to hear what was going on behind, where Sebastian was preparing to help Dory mount for her first riding lesson.

It had been the last hunting party of the season, and there had been a houseful of guests at Ashmore Castle. They had all left this morning, but Sebastian and Dory were staying on for a few days at Kitty’s invitation. Sebastian had said he wanted to teach Dory to ride; and it was pleasant just to be with family again.

Archer, the earl’s groom, stood four-square in front of the horse, holding both reins just below the bit, as they did it in old oil paintings. It was purely for show – Nesta didn’t need holding. He owed it to his pride and his position to do everything correctly; and, aware that eyes would be on him, he meant it as a compliment to Mr Sebastian. Some folk had whispered unkind things about Mrs Sebastian – as if it was a crime to have been in service! Bless you, gentlemen had been falling in love with servant girls right back to Bible times, there was nothing new in that. And Mr Sebastian had done everything right and above-board, and married her. There was nothing havey-cavey about it – why, the earl’s grandmother and Mr Richard had been at the ceremony! And as Archer had said sharply to one of the grooms, who had repeated something he’d heard from a maid up at the house, Mr Sebastian was a fine gentleman, which made the person he married a fine lady, and that was all about it!

Having checked the girth for the third time, Sebastian took Dory’s hand to lead her up the steps, helped her onto the horse, supervised arrangement of her legs and feet, and corrected her hands on the reins.

‘Will you be wanting the leading-rein, sir?’ Archer asked. ‘The mare doesn’t hardly need it – she’s as quiet as a lamb.’

‘We’ll have it anyway, just in case,’ Sebastian said. ‘Better than being sorry afterwards.’ He went over to where one of the grooms was holding old Trooper, mounted, and walked him across to take hold of the leading-rein, which Archer had clipped on.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you, sir?’ Archer asked.