Page 72 of Everything But the Earl
They had dinner together, and Grace struggled to hold up her end of the conversation, because she couldn’t seem to stay awake. Owen made a note to ride out tomorrow to speak to the doctor to find out how Grace’s recovery was going, although maybe Grace didn’t want him to do that. There were a hundred things he wanted to do to adjust to the news, but he didn’t know if any of them were appropriate, and suddenly he found himself at an impasse.
He felt like he’d arrived back at a strange house.
Grace had, of course, made some changes. She’d rearranged thefurniture in both bedrooms. She’d taken down old art and put up new. She’d replaced the sofas in the lounge and bought new chairs for the parlor. But that was all cosmetic.
Hewas a different person. He was a father now. He had this little family that he was responsible for. And he was determined to do right by them. He knew nothing about babies, so he’d have to learn quickly, but he could defer to Grace on that. She seemed to know what to do with Dafydd.
And under all that…he was deeply hurt that she hadn’t told him.
He would have come, had she asked. If she’d told him she was expecting, he would have gotten in a carriage immediately and come to her. He wished he could have been here for the birth, so he could have been here for Grace when she struggled. So he could have taken care of his son. Forget Parliament; this was more important. And she seemed to know that, meaning she’d deliberately withheld this information. She wrote to him weekly, after all. Had it truly never occurred to her to mention it? That seemed impossible.
He sent Grace to bed when it was clear that she wasn’t so much eating as dozing off. She put up a mild protest, but seemed relieved when he told her to go to sleep.
After dinner, he tracked down Mary. “May I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“I’m worried about the countess. She said her labor was difficult. Were you here for it?”
“I was, my lord.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Well, my lord, I do not know exactly, but there was a lot of blood. Some blood is normal, but this was more than with my own children. The countess was in some distress. Shortly after Master Dafydd was born, she lost consciousness, and it took quite a while to revive her. She was weak. She needed a few stitches.”
“Oh, goodness.”
“She came round, but we were quite worried. The doctor told her to rest as much as possible and for us to make sure she was eating. So I’ve been seeing to her meals. But she rises at all times of the night to comfort the baby, and she seems very tired a lot of the time.”
“She needs some help, would you agree?”
“She’s interviewed five different candidates for nurse and found them all wanting. But yes, I would say she could use some help. She gets better each day, and she is putting on a strong face, but she’s still very tired.” Mary looked up and met Owen’s gaze. “I am glad you are here, my lord. I think she needs you.”
“She did not tell me.”
“Did not tell you what?”
“That we were to have a baby. I did not know until I arrived here. I hope you know, I would have come—”
“I have no doubt, my lord. The countess kept saying she didn’t want to take you away from Parliament business, and I imagine she thought she was doing what she thought was best. Perhaps she did not know how much she would need you until the baby came. These last three weeks have been difficult, my lord.”
“I hope they get better, starting now.”
Owen went to the kitchen next and asked the cook for a tray he could bring up to Grace to make sure she ate a little more when she woke up. The sun had barely set, but his journey here had been grueling and he was tired, too.
He found her sound asleep in their bed. And it wastheirbed. He placed the tray on the side table and then adjusted the blankets around her. She looked peaceful and beautiful and his chest hurt when he thought of the pain she must have gone through. He, of course, knew the mechanics of how babies were born, but he’d never had to think much about it before. He hadn’t known it would be so difficult on a mother, although looking at how big Dafydd was and Grace’s smallframe, he shouldn’t have been surprised that it had been such a struggle.
Why hadn’t she told him?
The question burned, and he didn’t know what to do with the pain, because he didn’t want to put it on Grace. She’d suffered enough. But he’d thought they’d grown close enough to be honest with each other, and yet there was a lot that Grace had withheld from him. Her art, the baby—what else?
Owen went to his dressing room, where his valet had already hung all his clothes. He’d changed for dinner, mostly to get out of his traveling clothes, but he’d dismissed his valet because he just wanted to be alone with Grace.
And their son. Owen pulled on a nightshirt and then peeked into Grace’s bedchamber. Dafydd was asleep in the crib. Owen made himself leave so he didn’t wake the boy, but he wanted to just sit and stare at him. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of looking at his son.
He pulled on a dressing gown and walked into his bedroom. He thought about walking to the library to fetch something to read until he felt asleep, but then Dafydd began to cry.
Grace woke up with a jolt. She looked around and spotted Owen.
