Page 124 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
This was almost as good.
“Fine,” Demon growled, reaching for the door. “Come on. This had better work.”
When he slammed the door, Fawkes was on the wrong side.
But he’d done all he could.
“Was that what I hope it was?” asked a hesitant voice behind him.
Fawkes turned, too exhausted to put himself on the defensive, to see Thorne holding a decanter of whisky and two glasses. Hemusthave been distracted by worry for Georgia and the bairn, because he wasn’t even trying to flirt with the two maids, eying him appreciatively as they utterly failed to fold.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Fawkes encountered the lumpy orange hat Ellie had knitted for him, and yanked it from his head, the heat of the hall finally too much. “Aye. Tinctures which will hopefully make the labor progress smoother. Isthatwhat I hope it is?” He nodded to the decanter.
Thorne’s smile wasn’t as smooth as it normally was. Was he feeling as awkward around Fawkes as Fawkes was around him?
“Whisky, aye.” The blond man gestured with the glasses. “I think yer concoctions are likely to be more helpful.”
“Yer lips to God’s ears,” Fawkes sighed, repeating one of his mother’s favorite phrases. “Whisky might’ve relaxed Georgia, but she needs to be alert enough to push, if the bairn is giving her trouble.” He sighed and glanced at one of the maids. “If the midwife hasnae asked yet, ye might want to bring up some broth or something for yer lady—she’ll need to keep her strength up.”
As one of the maids nodded and hurried off, Thorne finally grinned at the other. “And perhaps, when ye’re done with that, ye might find something simple for my cousin and I to snack on? We’ve had quite the journey,” he added with a wink.
From anyone else, it would’ve come off sounding self-centered and demanding…but Thorne was a charmer. The remaining maid blushed and hurried off as well, and for the first time, Fawkes was struck by how familiar Thorne’s smile was.
It had been years since Fawkes smiled regularly, but in the last few weeks, he’d seen that smile in the shaving mirror.Elliemade him smile.
“Cousin, eh?” he grunted, snatching one of the glasses from Thorne.
“Aye,cousin. Let’s go down to the sitting room and make our best efforts to get drunk enough to forget the sounds coming out of that birthing chamber. And ye can tell me how ye ended up with Ellie, and yer feelings for her, ye dobber.”
And, trotting down the steps after the blond man, Fawkes realized he didn’t hate the idea of relaxing with Thorne. Oh, he wouldn’t tell himeverything…but Fawkes loved Ellie. And he wasn’t afraid who knew it.
Chapter 22
“All things considered,I would rather not have to go through that again,” Ellie murmured as she helped Georgia settle back against the new sofa in the library. “It was a tad nerve-wracking.”
Georgia exhaled, allowing her body to relax against the cushions, a wry smile on her face. “How do you thinkIfeel? I mean, it was glorious, but horrifying.”
“Well, yes.” Ellie fussed about, tucking a blanket over her sister’s lap—she was wearing her dressing gown, with another wrap thrown over for modesty—before she settled herself gingerly on the sofa as well. “ButImeant just getting you down the stairs. Your husband is a…well. A hoverer.”
Georgia grinned, her eyes closed and her head resting against the sofa. “I will tell him you said that. He has become very…exacting in the last few days, has he not?”
It was the third day after the birth, the first time the midwife and Fawkes had deemed it safe for Georgia to venture out of her bed for any length of time. Apparently most new mothers were up and about much sooner but Georgia’s birth had been arduous, with some blood loss, and she’d needed to recover her strength.
And Demon had been quite militant in his insistence.
Thorne had sent word to Rourke Lindsay that Ellie had solved the code, and the man had shown up at Endymion yesterday. It had flustered Ellie, to be passing through the foyer with her head bent over one of her notebooks muttering to herself…to run smack into an unexpected duke.
The Unexpected Duke. Write that down, it would make a good book title.
With Rourke and Thorne here, and Ellie wandering about solving the final parts of her father’s code, it was no wonder they were having this meeting today. This…Council of War, Thorne had called it.
They needed to decide what to do about Blackrose, and how the code could help. But first, they needed the full story.
Demon had turned out to be not just a doting father, but a fiercely protective one. He wouldn’t allow his daughter out of his sight, and since Georgia wasn’t about to let him drag wee Rosie down to the library withouther, they’d had to wait until she was able to leave her bed.
Georgia’s labor had been a terrifying thing—beautiful, but terrifying. Ellie couldn’t help but think how badly she’d tried for a baby of her own, which would mean she’d have to go through something similar. Not for the first time in the last few days, she was glad Fawkes’s seed hadn’t taken.
Twisting in her seat, she shot a glance toward the far corner where Fawkes stood, shoulder propped against a bookshelf. Despite his stance, he seemed skittish, as if he didn’t really want to be here with them.
