Page 70 of Pregnant With His Majesty's Heir

‘Rest now, Aurélie. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

He strode from the room.

Only when he was out of sight did he sag back against the corridor wall. He’d thought he’d plumbed the depths months ago, but this...

Lucien had lost everyone he’d ever loved. Now he faced that prospect again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FROMHERHOSPITALbed Aurélie stared out over the rooftops to the valley beyond. She could even pick out Lucien’s castle in the distance.

She blinked and felt her mouth crumple, helpless tears pooling and blurring her vision. She hated feeling so emotional. Despite the doctor’s cautious optimism this morning, it was too early to believe everything would be okay.

Her hand crept across her abdomen.

Was her baby safe?

She thought of Lucien last night. His concern. His determination to look after her.

He was worried about the baby.

Their relationship was predicated on her pregnancy. Last night she’d got ridiculously hopeful, thinking that fabulous opal necklace could be a love token.

Because she’d fallen in love with him at first sight she’d hoped for a miracle.

Lucien had set her straight. He wanted her suitably dressed at glamorous functions and for their engagement photos. He didn’t want her looking like a waitress, a pregnant working-class woman, but a royal.

As if even the most gorgeous jewellery could turn her into someone she wasn’t.

Her mouth twisted. No jewellery would make her into the sort of woman Lucien could love.

Her hopes had finally died last night when he’d left her. Though she’d asked him to.

If he loved her, he’d have stayed.

If he cared abouther, he’d have been horrified at her decision to leave if she lost the baby. He’d have told her he wanted her, baby or not.

Yet after an initial objection he’d nodded and left.

What had she expected? A vow of undying affection?

She hadn’t been testing him. She’d just stated facts.

Hadn’t she?

A convulsive sob escaped. It was clear where she stood. Nothing had altered.

To Lucien her value was solely as mother to his child. As an individual she wasn’t worth fighting for.

She rubbed her hand across her face, smearing the tears that leaked down her cheeks.

The door opened and a nurse entered. She pretended not to see the tear tracks, instead greeting Aurélie with a smile and telling her she’d come to help her freshen up. ‘The castle sent through a bag for you. You’ll be much more comfortable wearing your own things.’

Aurélie looked at the designer suitcase, so different to her battered backpack. Lucien’s housekeeper had probably filled it with those lovely silk nightgowns the stylist had organised. What she really wanted was the comfort of the baggy old T-shirt she used to sleep in.

She offered the nurse a wobbly smile. She couldn’t afford to mope. She had to be strong and hope for the best. That her baby would be okay. Everything else, like Lucien’s feelings for her, was secondary.

By the time she was clean, changed and resting back against the pillows, Aurélie was exhausted. But she roused as the nurse congratulated her.

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