Page 80 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
“You should have said something.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew why she hadn’t. She’d been worried about his reaction. Hot shame coursed through him. His wife had needed a doctor but hadn’t asked for him to summon one out of concern for him.
What a mess.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not giving her a chance to respond. “I’ll call for a doctor immediately. Wait here.”
He went to the corridor and waved to Samuel, who was hovering nearby. The footman seemed to have taken a liking toKate—or perhaps just to her maid—and could often be found nearby.
“Summon Dr. Hanson,” he said, speaking low so as not to invite too much attention from other members of the household. “I’d also appreciate it if you could send in a maid to empty her ladyship’s chamber pot and bring a glass of room temperature water, a bowl of cool water, and a cloth. Also, ask the kitchen to prepare a broth.”
Samuel’s eyebrows knitted together. “Is her ladyship ill?”
He nodded. “Be quick.”
With a determined expression, Samuel strode away.
Theo returned to the bedchamber to find that Kate had made it back to the bed and crawled under the covers. He sat on the edge of the mattress and swallowed past the rock that seemed to be lodged in his throat. He knew what he needed to ask, and it was time to be a man and do it.
He held her gaze despite his churning gut. “When did you last have your monthly courses?”
She nibbled her lower lip, looking into space as she thought. “Not since before we married.”
“Long before?” he asked, leaning forward. “This is important.”
Ashen, she nodded. “Perhaps six or seven weeks. Might I be…?”
At first, his heart lifted—the instinctive reaction—but then a shiver ran through him, and his chest constricted.
Elizabeth had been pregnant three times. The first two times, he’d been excited to welcome his unborn baby into the world. By the third, all he’d felt was dread because he’d known how it would end.
“Then there’s a chance you are with child.” Theo inhaled and exhaled slowly and regularly, reminding himself not to lose his nerve. No matter how terrified he might be of losing anypotential baby—or worse, Kate—she needed him right now, and he couldn’t afford to fall apart.
“Do you think it’s likely?”
Hope shone in her eyes, and he didn’t have the heart to temper it.
“Perhaps.”
A maid swept into the room with a glass of water in one hand, a bowl in the other, and a cloth tucked under her arm. She set the bowl and the glass on the nightstand and placed the cloth beside the bowl, then grabbed the chamber pot and took it out with her.
Theo passed Kate the glass of water. “Drink this. I’m sure your mouth doesn’t feel very pleasant right now.”
With a look of gratitude, she took the glass and sipped it. She paused, and, when her body didn’t react negatively to the water, drank more. She half finished the glass before handing it back to him.
He dipped the cloth into the bowl of water, wrung it out, and dabbed her forehead. “How does that feel?”
“It’s nice,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
“Good.”
He held the cloth to her forehead, refreshing it with the water every few minutes. He kept an eye on her in case she seemed ready to cast up her accounts again, but the fact that she’d already done so had apparently brought her a temporary reprieve.
Soon, the maid returned with the cleaned chamber pot and left it beside the bed in case Kate needed it. She had dozed off, but Theo didn’t move from her side.
A while later, Mrs. Tubbs brought in a bowl of broth. Theo debated whether to wake Kate but decided not to. As it happened, she stirred when Mrs. Tubbs closed the door anyway.
“Would you like some broth?” he asked, gesturing to the bowl on the nightstand. “It’s chicken, I understand.”
“I’ll try,” she said tiredly. “I’m not sure if it will stay inside me.”
