Page 120 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
The housekeeper—because surely that’s what Thorne had meant byshe runs things—looked flustered by the announcement, but not because she was duly impressed by Ellie’s title, apparently.
“A houseguest?Now? Ye show upnowand ye expect me to drop what I’m doing and—”
“We’re here for the birth, Mrs. Kettel,” he interrupted smoothly, perhaps conscious of how Ellie was clutching him. “Or rather, Danielle is. Might I ask how it’s going?”
“How it’s going?” She was waving her arms about as she shrieked. “How do yethinkit’s going? Why do ye think I’m wearingthison my head, eh?”
“I really have nae idea, Mrs. Kettel,” Thorne admitted.
“Becauseeveryonekens raw sheep’s wool wards off soul-stealing haints! New mothers are particularly susceptible, too, and I’ll no’ allow milady’s soul to be stolen and replaced with some lizard’s! Are ye wearing garlic in yer shoes? Och, nae matter, I’ll find some. Girl! Where’s my garlic? Best cut some tomato to smear on their elbows, too.”
Thorne appeared to be shaking. Ellie was surprised to catch his dimple again. “And the tomato is for…?”
“The birth chamber is a dangerous place, milord! I’ll no’ take chances. Milady is suffering—”
Ellie couldn’t take it any longer. “Forgive me, but you are saying my sister has not given birth yet?” She clutched at the tea cup to keep her hands from shaking. “The birth is not going well?”
The housekeeper frowned. “Milord is going mad with fear, although I’ll deny it to the devil if ye tell him I told ye that.”
Nodding, Thorne was already peeling off his hat and gloves. “Then ye best allow me to distract him. The whisky’s still in the sitting room?”
Ellie didn’t give the housekeeper a chance to answer. “I want to see my sister immediately.”
She wasn’t certain what she could do, except be there for Georgia.
And pray.
Chapter 21
Fawkes’s hatwas coming loose.
His hat was coming loose, his scarf was frozen with snot and spit, and he didn’t think he could feel his arse any more.
The horse was a game one, and he made a note to compliment Young Clutterbuck on his care of the animals. But the poor thing had been galloping for over an hour, and Fawkes was impressed he hadn’t fallen off yet.
Horse riding wasn’t his strong suit.
But he’d do anything to help Ellie.
Very carefully, he tucked the reins under one thigh, and lifted his hands to pull the hat down tighter. It had been inexpertly knitted with orange wool—who the fook dyed wool orange?—and was the lumpiest thing he’d ever seen.
But Ellie had made itfor him, and he’d cherish it until his dying day.
Christ, had it only been that afternoon they’d been gathered in the parlor, exchanging gifts? He had wanted to shower Ellie with things—useless, pretty baubles, just to make her laugh, puzzles that would make her chew on that sweet bottom lip—but he’d been unable to. Now, though, he owned Hangcok Hill. He could afford to make her smile…
If she’d let him.
Please, God, get me there in time.
Actually, he supposed he should be praying Ellie’s sister had an easy labor, and she would arrive there in time to meet Demon’s new heir.
That would be best for everyone.
But he wouldn’t mind being in time to help.
Fawkes scooped up the reins once more and leaned forward, urging the poor horse even faster. Dusk was creeping in and he knew Thorne and Ellie were somewhere ahead of him.
By the time he reached the turnoff for Endymion, he could barely see the tracks of the sled in the snow ahead of him, but he knew he wasn’t too far behind Ellie. His horse could travel faster than Thorne’s sled, and the tinctures he carried hadn’t taken too long to bottle.
