Page 29 of The Un-Apparent Heir

Patrick tucked Lucy in on the couch and brought her tea, which helped. Sanne soon rose, plopping by Lucy.

“What’s the matter?”

“Lucy has unexplained vomiting and no other symptoms,” George said.

“Georgie, don’t start,” Patrick grumbled.

George said no more, but like a defence attorney trying to make his case by planting an idea before an objection, the damage was already done.

“You’re pregnant?” Sanne asked, excitedly.

“No, God, no. I hope not,” Lucy said.

“When was… you know… your last?” Sanne asked.

Lucy couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to admit she didn’t know. She and Natalie usually overlapped. It was how she knew she was pregnant the last time. And why she once suspected she was pregnant after she and Winston first hooked up. But since starting fertility treatment, Natalie was all over the place. Lucy didn’t remember.

“She doesn’t know because she’s pregnant,” George said.

“George, I’d watch your mouth before Winston lays into you,” Lucy warned. “And even if I was, why would I tell you?”

“Touché,” Patrick snickered.

A baby stirred in the other room. Lucy knew it wasn’t hers. George dispersed to scoop Leah up before she woke the others. When he returned, Malcolm followed, half awake. He immediately raced to Lucy and crawled into her lap. He buried his face in her chest and clung like a little monkey. He’d do this for a bit before he finally came to. The trouble was, it hurt.

“Can we get him some milk?” Sanne offered.

“And one of those biscuits, yeah,” Lucy said. “Thanks.”

“I got it,” Patrick handed George a bottle. “Stay, Sanne.”

“Mama, drink,” Malcolm whinged.

“I know. Uncle Patrick is bringing one,” Lucy said.

They’d taken to just calling them Uncle Patrick and Uncle George. It was somehow easier.

Lucy again felt the urge to vomit. She foisted Malcolm on Sanne with nary a word and darted to the bathroom again. This time, Winston saw her in the rush down the hall. He stood in the door, waiting.

“Winston,” Lucy panted, trying to recover. “I need you to procure a pregnancy test.”

Winston cocked his head. “How?”

“I don’t know but I think I’m pregnant. So does everyone else,” Lucy finally admitted what she suspected was true.

Ed returned home, having been gone all day. Natalie was asleep in her room at Kensington Palace. He filtered to his own. They rarely slept apart unless one came home very late and didn’t want to wake the other. Or, in this case, there was something quite wrong. Ed realised he’d left in a rage, unable to make sense of things. Natalie was upset, having every right to be. She grieved on her own.

Everything they wanted flew away like a receipt in the wind. Ed drove, went for a swim, and took a walk. He’d then angered his detail by going to the cinema—a risky move that would get reported back to his wife and father-in-law—but he didn’t care what happened. Everything was bleak and painful. The worst part? He’d disappointed the person he loved most. There was nothing he could do to fix this. She deserved better.

Ed drifted off to sleep. He woke to the sound of the telly in their sitting room down the hall. As he approached, he could hearMaydayon the TV. Natalie swore she watched to prepare for the things she could solve in a crisis. Somehow, better preparing herself for an air disaster was comforting. It disoriented Ed. He hated that show, but he wasn’t about to police his wife’s viewing habits. She tried to survive, too.

“We’re at theMaydaypoint now?” Ed asked.

Natalie shrugged.

Ed sat on the couch, far from her. He gathered she was still very cross.

“Are we speaking now, Winslow?” Natalie asked flatly.

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