Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(42)

“Does Westcliff know?” Daisy asked breathlessly. “Should I go tell him?”

“No,” all three of the other women said at once.

“There’s no need to worry him yet,” Lillian added in a sheepish tone. “Let Westcliff enjoy the afternoon with his friends. As soon as he finds out, he’ll be up here pacing and giving commands, and no one will have any peace. Especially me.”

“What about Mother? Shall I fetch her?” Daisy had to ask, even though she was certain of the answer. Mercedes was not a comforting sort of person, and despite the fact that she had given birth to five children, she was squeamish at the mention of any kind of bodily function.

“I’m in enough pain already,” Lillian said dryly. “No, don’t tell Mother anything yet. She would feel obligated to sit here with me to maintain appearances, and that would make me as nervous as a cat. Right now all I need are the three of you.”

Despite her sardonic tone, she reached for Daisy’s hand and clung tightly. Childbirth was a frightening business, especially the first time, and Lillian was no exception. “Annabelle says this could happen on and off for days,” she told Daisy, crossing her eyes comically. “Which means I may not be as sweet-tempered as usual.”

“That’s fine, dear. Give us your worst.” Retaining Lillian’s hand, Daisy sat on the carpeted floor at her feet.

The room was quiet except for the ticking of the mantel clock, and the stroke of the bristled brush against Lillian’s scalp. Between the sisters’ joined hands, the pressure of their pulses mingled in steady throbs. Daisy was not certain if she was giving comfort to her sister or receiving it. Lillian’s time was here, and Daisy was afraid for her, of the pain and possible complications, and the fact that life would never be the same afterward.

She glanced at Evie, who flashed her a smile, and Annabelle, whose face was reassuringly calm. They would help each other through all the challenges and joys and fears of their lives, Daisy thought, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with love for all of them. “I will never live away from you,” she said. “I want the four of us to be together always. I could never bear to lose any of you.”

She felt Annabelle’s slippered toe nudge her leg affectionately. “Daisy…you can never lose a true friend.”

CHAPTER 9

As the afternoon spun out into early evening, the storm escalated beyond the usual springtime prank into a full-on assault. Rain-laden wind struck the windows and thrashed the meticulously trimmed hedgerows and trees, while lightning splintered the sky. The four friends stayed in the Marsden parlor, timing Lillian’s contractions until they were separated by regular ten-minute intervals. Lillian was subdued and anxious, though she tried to hide it. Daisy suspected her sister found it difficult to surrender to the inevitable process that was taking control of her body.

“You can’t possibly be comfortable on the settee,” Annabelle finally said, pulling Lillian upright. “Come, dear. Time to go to bed.”

“Should I—” Daisy began, thinking Westcliff should finally be summoned.

“Yes, I think so,” Annabelle said.

Relieved at the prospect of actually doing something instead of helplessly sitting by, Daisy asked, “And then what? Do we need sheets? Towels?”

“Yes, yes,” Annabelle said over her shoulder, hooking a firm arm around Lillian’s back. “And scissors and a hot water bottle. And tell the housekeeper to send up some valerian oil, and some tea with dried motherwort and shepherd’s purse.”

As the others helped Lillian to the master bedroom, Daisy hurried downstairs. She went to the billiards room only to find it empty, then scampered to the library and one of the main parlors. It seemed Westcliff was nowhere to be found. Tamping down her impatience, Daisy forced herself to walk calmly past some guests in the hallway, and headed to Westcliff’s study. To her relief, he was there with her father, Mr. Hunt, and Matthew Swift. They were involved in an animated conversation that included phrases such as “distribution network deficiencies” and “profits per unit of output.”

Becoming aware of her presence in the doorway, the men looked up. Westcliff rose from his half-seated position on the desk. “My lord,” Daisy said, “if I might have a word with you?”

Although she spoke calmly, something in her expression must have alerted him. He didn’t waste a second in coming to her. “Yes, Daisy?”

“It’s about my sister,” she whispered. “It seems her labor has started.”

She had never seen the earl look so utterly taken aback.

“It’s too early,” he said.

“Apparently the baby doesn’t think so.”

“But…this is off-schedule.” The earl seemed genuinely baffled that his child would have failed to consult the calendar before arriving.

“Not necessarily,” Daisy replied reasonably. “It’s possible the doctor misjudged the date of the baby’s birth. Ultimately it’s only a matter of guesswork.”

Westcliff scowled. “I expected far more accuracy than this! It’s nearly a month before the projected…” A new thought occurred to him, and he turned skull-white. “Is the baby premature?”

Although Daisy had entertained a few private concerns about that, she shook her head immediately. “Some women show more than others, some less. And my sister is very slender. I’m sure the baby is fine.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Lillian has had pains for the past four or five hours, and now they’re coming every ten minutes or so, which Annabelle says—”