Patrick thought about the implication that his sister-in-law had attended a Cyprians’ Ball. He opened his mouth—but then he closed it again. He was tired and hungry and didn’t feel like wrangling over details with Alex. Once they tracked his wife down they could sort out the particulars.

There was a discreet knock and the door swung open. Cecil stood there, blinking nervously. He held a silver platter in one hand but said nothing.

“How on earth did you get the name Cecil?” Patrick asked with a touch of malice. “Did your mother have delusions of grandeur?”

Cecil shook his head from side to side. “She admired the nobility,” he said briefly. He advanced into the room and bowed before Alex. “A message has arrived for you, my lord.”

Alex snatched the white envelope off the silver salver, almost tearing it in half in his eagerness to open the letter.

“My God,” he said. “It’s from her, Sophie York. They’re in Wales. She says”—and his voice strengthened with indignation—”that if I would like to attend the birth of my child I should make haste.”

“You deserve it.” Patrick eyed the footman, who was looking distinctly relieved. “Off with you,” he said curtly. “You had a lucky escape.”

Cecil bowed his way out of the room, agreeing with younger Foakes with all his heart.

Patrick was feeling distinctly sour. He could see dinner disappearing from before his eyes. Sure enough, Alex had already bounded out of the room and started howling for his horse. Patrick dragged himself out of the comfortable couch, throwing a last look at the happy ladies frolicking about on the ceiling. Taking Alex’s punishing speed into account, it would take them two days to get to Wales. Two more days before he could have a decent meal. In the hall he pulled on his greatcoat and strolled out the door slowly, just to annoy his brother, who was already mounted on a nervous steed. With a sigh Patrick leaped on top of a fresh horse, loosed the rein, and pounded after his brother down the dark, tree-lined drive.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Charlotte’s voice rose to a shriek. “No! No! No!” She hunched over, protecting her huge belly. “He’s here only to take my baby! Make him leave—” Her voice broke off as she stumbled against the bedpost, swallowed into a great slashing wave of pain. The room was silent except for Charlotte’s harsh pants.

Alex stared at his wife in horror. Had he been blind? She was wearing a light shift, drenched with perspiration. The swollen outline of her belly was clearly visible. She was bigger than the woman he saw give birth in Italy, he thought with a pulse of alarm. The baby must be enormous.