Page 31 of Expecting the Earl's Baby

CHAPTER SIX

‘YOU LOOK TERRIBLE. What’s wrong?’

Daisy, Seb had discovered in the week they had been living together, was just like him—an early bird. She usually appeared in the kitchen just a few moments after he did, already dressed, ready to moan about the lack of caffeine in her day while hopefully trying yet another of the seemingly endless array of herbal teas she had brought with her, hoping to discover the one to replace her beloved lattes.

Today she was dressed as usual, if a little more demure, in a grey skater-style dress with an embroidered yellow hem, a yellow knitted cap pulled back over her head. But there was no exaggerated groaning when she saw his coffee, no diving on the toast as if she hadn’t eaten in at least a month. Instead she pulled out a chair and collapsed into it with a moan.

‘Why, why, why did I agree to start work at nine?’ She looked at the clock on the wall and slid further down her seat. ‘It’s going to take me well over an hour to get there. I’ll need to set off in ten minutes.’

‘Toast?’ Seb pushed the plate towards her but she pushed it back with an exaggerated shudder.

‘No, it’s far too early for food.’

She hadn’t said that yesterday at a very similar time. Between them they had demolished an entire loaf of bread.

‘Is that a new brand of coffee?’ Daisy was looking at his cup of coffee as if he had filled it with slurry from the cow sheds, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

‘Nope, the usual.’

‘It smells vile.’

Seb took another look. She was unusually pale, the violet shadows under her eyes pronounced despite powder, the bright lipstick a startling contrast to her pallor. ‘Didn’t you sleep well?’

‘I could have slept for ever.’ She sniffed again and went even paler. ‘Are you sure that’s the usual brand? Have you made it extra strong?’ She pressed her hand to her stomach and winced.

‘You look really ill. I think you should go back to bed.’

‘I can’t.’ The wail was plaintive. ‘I have a wedding to photograph. I’m due at the bride’s house at nine for the family breakfast followed by the arrival of the bridesmaids and getting ready. I need to be at the groom’s at half eleven for best man and ushers then back to the bride’s for final departures, church at one and then the reception.’

‘With a blog up by midnight and the first pictures available the next day?’ His mouth folded into a thin line. It was a ridiculous schedule.

‘That’s what they pay me for.’

‘There is no way you are going to be able to manage an eighteen-hour day on no breakfast.’

Daisy pushed her chair back and swayed, putting a hand onto the table to steady herself. ‘I don’t have any choice. I work for myself, Seb. I can’t just call in sick. Besides, I’m not ill, I’m pregnant. This is self-inflicted, like a hangover. I just have to deal with it.’

‘It’s nothing like a hangover.’ He stopped as she winced, a hand to her head. ‘You need an assistant.’

‘Possibly, but unless you can produce one out of one of the trunks in the attic that’s not going to help with today.’

Seb regarded her helplessly. He wanted to march her back upstairs, tuck her in and make her soup. He was responsible for the slight green tinge to her skin and the shadows under her eyes.

But she was right, if she cried off a wedding on the day her reputation would be shattered. ‘Can anyone cover for you?’

‘Seb, this is morning sickness not a twenty-four-hour bug.’ Her voice rose in exasperation. ‘It could last for days, or weeks, or even months. What about Monday’s engagement shoot? Or next Saturday’s wedding? Or the baby photos on Wednesday? I can’t just walk away from all my responsibilities.’

‘No, but you can plan ahead.’

‘But none of this was planned. Don’t treat me like I’m some fluffy little girl without a brain cell.’

Woah, where had that come from?

‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’ He knew he sounded stiff but this: histrionics, overreacting, unreasonable responses to reasonable points. It was everything he didn’t want in his life.

To his surprise Daisy let out a huge sigh and slumped. ‘I’m sorry, I am just so tired. You’re right, I do need to start planning how I am going to cover my commitments over the next year.’

It was over, just like that. No escalation, no screaming, no smashing of crockery. Just an apology.

‘I could have phrased it better.’ It wasn’t as full an apology as hers but it was all he could manage in his shock.

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