Page 86 of The Dravenhearst Brides
Warmth. His long fingers twining with hers, easy as breathing.
She opened her eyes to bright sunshine. Haloing around his head.
“You look like an angel,” she murmured, squinting.
“Did you hit your head on the way down?” He smiled. “I thought I caught you, but…”
She laughed, dropping a hand over her forehead. Embarrassment rushed in. “I’m so sorry—”
An unfamiliar low voice. “Oh, it’s quite common in this condition, especially early on. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.”
Only then did Margot’s focus go beyond Merrick, to two sets of peering eyeballs just over his shoulder.
“I, uh, was telling Dr. Smalls here about the baby. In case, well…” Merrick trailed off.
Her gaze flicked to the bespectacled man dressed in his Sunday best at her feet. She realized, a bit belatedly, he’d removed her shoes. Was checking the tops of her feet for pulses.
“Beg pardon, Mrs. Dravenhearst,” he tittered, flouncing her dress so it covered as close to her ankle as possible. “Just doing a quick assessment. Your husband did the right thing, getting you out of the church. Mighty warm in there today for October. Seems you were overcome. Again, perfectly normal, given your condition.” He nodded perfunctorily at her midsection.
Normal.That was a new one. It seemed pregnancy had its perks after all.
“Right,” she replied weakly, moving to sit up. As she did so, her eyes landed on the second member of her rescue party.
Alastair.
“He helped me carry you out,” Merrick murmured. “Managed the doors and such.”
After Dr. Smalls finished his assessment, Margot was given a clean bill of health and orders to spend the day resting. The physician promised discretion and returned to Mass for the Communion Rite, but Alastair stayed behind.
Merrick cleared his throat. “Thank you for your assistance, Alastair. I suppose we’ll—”
“You said she’s expecting?” Alastair interrupted.
Silence. Stony, glaring silence.
The set of Merrick’s jaw hardened.
Alastair broke the staring contest, his eyes softening when they moved to Margot. “Two months along?”
“Nearing three,” she whispered.
His gaze darkened and switched back to Merrick. Full of judgment. Alastair rose to his full height. “You’re a foolish, foolish boy.”
“I am thirty-one years old, Alastair. Do not speak to me like a child.”
“I will speak to you like a child when you act like one. You have no idea what you’ve done. The ghosts you’ve awakened—”
“What do you know of ghosts?” Margot interjected, her jaw dropping in surprise.
Alastair fell silent.
Margot licked her lips. “If you’ve something to say—something about Babette or Eleanor—say it.”
“I only know the same as everyone else, everyone she loved. Ask Ruth. Or that butler of yours. Eleanor was before my time, but I knew Babette the same way the rest of ’em did. I’d tell you to ask your father, Merrick, but he’s dead. Thank your stars for that, because he’d take your hind to the whipping post for this. That house is cursed. Dravenhearst marriages are cursed. Your mother—”
“Don’t say one more word about my mother,” Merrick rumbled. “You don’t get to speak of her. Not in front of me.”
Alastair stepped back and crossed his arms. Only then did Margot see it, at his wrists, silver cufflinks glinting in the morning sun.
