The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3) (40 page)

“If it comforts you, know that I love him already,” she said. “Colton and I understand one another. We will be good for each other, I promise. I will not disappoint you.”

Lord Cononley grunted, wiping at his nose, trying to pretend he wasn’t as emotional as he was. “I am sure you will not,” he said. “Did he tell you that every de Royans’ male has a name that ends in ‘ton’?”

“He did.”

“You must name all of your sons in that tradition. Every de Royans wife must understand that.”

“I will, I promise.”

Lord Cononley lifted his head to look at her and, seeing the impish grin on her face, winked at her. They had an understanding now and he had said what he needed to say. He was satisfied. He turned to his wife.

“There,” he said. “She is properly conditioned. She may marry our son now.”

As Lady Cononley laughed, Lord Cononley suddenly turned to Emmaline and put his arms around her, squeezing her so hard that her back cracked. It was one of his legendary hugs that left Emmaline laughing as he pulled away, embarrassed for the display of emotion. Lady Cononley grasped her husband’s elbow, pulling him towards the door.

“Thank you for receiving us, Lady Emmaline,” she said. “We will see you in a short while at the church.”

Emmaline nodded, watching the pair go, her heart warm from the encounter. They seemed like lovely people. Once they vacated the room, she turned to look at Lucien, who was grinning at her knowingly.

“I think you impressed them,” he said.

She shrugged. “I hope so.”

Lucien’s smile lingered. “I am proud of the way you handled yourself with them,” he said. “You will make Colton a very fine wife and they are eased. Now, on to business – I will return for you when the carriage is brought around. They are preparing it now, so make sure you are ready to leave.”

Emmaline nodded eagerly. “I will.”

As Emmaline turned for Aricia and Susanna, to make sure that all of them would be prepared to depart soon, Lucien turned for the door but a soft hail from his wife stopped him.

“Wait,” Sophina said, pushing the frolicking Oswald aside and laboriously rising from the bed. “I will walk with you.”

Lucien held out a hand to her as she waddled in his direction, which was unlike her. Her entire pregnancy, she had been energetic and spry. She was walking strangely now and he didn’t like it. He took her hand when she came close.

“What is wrong?” he asked. “Are you feeling well?”

Sophina nodded, putting a finger to her lips to silence his questions. He had no idea why until they quit the room and shut the door. Then, she bent over, still holding on to his hand, and nearly broke his bones.

“Sweetheart,” Lucien bent over with her, trying to look her in the face. “What is wrong? Are you ill?”

Sophina drew in several long, deep breaths, blowing them out loudly before she tried to stand straight.

“Nay,” she said. “Not ill. But I do believe our son is demanding to make his appearance into the world.”

Lucien felt as if he’d been struck. All of his breath left him. “
Now?
”

She chuckled ironically. “I wish it were not so but one cannot time these things,” she said. “Now, listen to me. I do not want to spoil Emmaline and Colton’s day, but I am afraid I will not be able to make the mass. You must send for the midwife in Tisbury right away. Do not delay. I will go to our chamber now and wait for her. But do not tell Emmaline yet, do you hear? I do not want her to worry.”

Lucien was struggling to keep his control with the rapid shift of events. Frankly, he didn’t care about worrying Emmaline or not;
he
was worried enough for both of them. “I will help you to bed,” he said.

He started to pull her across the landing to their chamber on the other side but Sophina shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “You must send word now. I do not think this child will wait and I do not wish to deliver him myself.”

Lucien’s control took a hit. “It will happen that quickly?” he asked apprehensively. “Are you just now feeling pains? Surely there will be time.”

Sophina continued shaking her head. “I felt the pains start last night but I thought it would be a day or two,” she said. “I thought there would be time for Emmaline’s wedding before the child came but I was wrong.”

Lucien couldn’t help it; he felt genuine panic but he managed to hold himself together, at least long enough to get Sophina into their chamber and help her remove her surcoat. The shift was on beneath. She left that on and climbed into bed with his assistance. When he was sure she wasn’t going to explode that very moment, he bolted from the chamber.

His son was coming and would not wait.

The first thing he did was do exactly what Sophina didn’t want him to do. He ran into the chamber where Emmaline and Aricia and Susanna were and told the women to rush to Sophina’s side because the baby’s arrival was imminent. While the girls fled into the master’s chambers where Lucien could hear Sophina lament the fact that her husband had opened his big mouth, he rushed down the stairs and into the bailey where Lord and Lady Cononley were just crossing over to the great hall. He managed to catch up with them and, as calmly as he could, asked Lady Cononley if she would sit with Sophina until the midwife arrived.

Having birthed six children of her own, Lady Cononley was more than willing to help tend Lady de Russe and made her way back to the keep while Lucien and Lord Cononley continued on to the gatehouse where Lucien had Gabriel send a messenger to collect the midwife. By that point, the news of the impending birth spread like wildfire throughout Spelthorne and the decision was quickly made to postpone Colton and Emmaline’s wedding.

In truth, Colton and Lord Cononley had made that decision because Lucien’s mind was incapable of making such choices at the moment. Even though they kept him in the hall, plying him with wine and trying to keep his attention off of his laboring wife, nothing seemed to work. Lucien would not be distracted from what was going on in his bedchamber.

The moment he had been dreading had finally arrived.

The wait for the midwife seemed like days when, in fact, it was less than two hours. With the trusted midwife and Lady Cononley attending Sophina, she was in very good hands but Lucien’s mind still would not be eased. He was a mess. The last time a wife had birthed his child, it had resulted in her death and he wasn’t prepared for that to happen again. He prayed, they all prayed, for Sophina and the child to emerge healthy. The long afternoon wait turned into a long evening wait.

On a night that should have been filed with the music and happiness of a wedding feast, the mood of the entire castle was both somber and anxious. Lucien sat in the hall with Colton and his father, as well as Gabriel and a few other senior men, all of them waiting for word from the keep.

Eventually, Aricia and Susanna came to join the group but Emmaline had chosen to remain with her mother. Lucien had peppered Aricia and Susanna with questions about Sophina but they didn’t know much. All they could tell him was that the midwife and Lady de Royans were making Lady de Russe comfortable, which didn’t make him feel any better. It only made him feel worse.

The night dragged on. The beautiful wedding meal that had been in the process for days was served because most of the food had already been prepared, lovingly supervised by Sophina. So they ate roasted peacock and roasted swan, boiled beef, boiled vegetables, different types of bread, including bread that had been baked in the shape of ducks. All of this was finished with a great marzipan subtlety shaped like a castle complete with little banners flying from the turrets.

Lucien hadn’t eaten anything, but he encouraged the others to. He watched as Colton and Susanna and Aricia cut into the castle subtlety and dished out big slabs of it. He mostly sat alone while everyone else quietly enjoyed the meal around him, but as the evening dragged on and still no child, Lord Cononley moved in to sit next to him.

Weston had been watching Lucien all evening, concerned about him just like everyone else was. He was, perhaps, the only one qualified to truly be concerned given how many children he had and how many times he had suffered through the same wait that Lucien was suffering through. He understood the worry. Moreover, he had known Lucien for many years and they were friends. There weren’t many secrets between them, including the fear of a woman in childbirth.

“Your wine is excellent,” Weston said. “Wherever did you purchase it?”

Lucien turned to the man, not particularly feeling social. “It is Spanish,” he said. “I had it for the first time several years ago at Kenilworth Castle and it has been my favorite ever since. There is a broker in Southampton who ships it to me. I will give you his name if you like.”

Weston held up the cup in a salute of gratitude. “I would appreciate it,” he said. “My wife will like it a great deal.”

The mention of a wife caused Lucien to sink back into his depression. His entire countenance changed. Weston saw the change and set his cup down.

“I know your worry on this night, old friend,” he said quietly. “I have had six children of my own so this wait we are sentenced to is something I am familiar with.”

Lucien sighed faintly. “I hate it,” he muttered. “The last time I was forced to wait like this, I lost her. I lost her before I could tell her that I loved her, West. She died and my voice was not the last one she heard in this life. Do you know that is something I have never forgiven myself for?”

Weston put his hand on Lucien’s shoulder in a show of sympathy. “I know,” he said. “And I understand. But worry will not do any good. Your wife is in God’s hands now and all you can do is pray. I have been praying with you all day, you know that.”

“I know.”

“God is merciful. He would not have brought you another woman to love if He planned to take her away so soon.”

Lucien hadn’t thought of it that way. Strangely enough, it gave him comfort. He nodded his head in silent thanks for Weston’s words and Weston patted him on the shoulder one last time before making his way back to Colton, who was still dishing out the subtlety and, unfortunately, making a mess of it. Meanwhile, Susanna made her way over to her father, walking stiffly and awkwardly, but walking unaided just the same. She had been walking unaided for several months now thanks to Aricia, who had worked with her to help her become independent of the canes that Sophina would no longer allow her to have. Lucien looked up and saw his daughter approaching, holding up his hand for her which she grasped tightly. He helped her to sit.

“Papa, will you not eat?” she asked. “There is so much food and you have not eaten.”

Lucien forced a smile. “Mayhap I will, soon,” he said. “I am not very hungry right now.”

Susanna studied him. For all of her youth, she had grown up quite a bit in the last year thanks to Aricia’s guidance and the nurturing from her new stepmother. All of that anger and bitterness she had harbored for so long had been dissolved for the most part. She’d come to understand that her father had done the best he could with her given the circumstances. There was more growing to do for her, but she’d made progress. Therefore, there was a good deal of peace between Susanna and her father these days.

“Sophina will be well,” she said after a moment. “I know she will. I cannot wait to meet my new brother. Do you think he will look like you?”

Lucien’s smile turned genuine. “That is difficult to say,” he replied. “Only God knows for sure who a child will look like.”

“I look like you.”

“Indeed, you do.”

“Will I be able to hold him?”

“Of course you will.”

That pleased Susanna immensely. As she stood up and shuffled away from the table, eager to tell Aricia that she would be permitted to hold the baby, Lucien couldn’t help reflect on how pleasant it was to have a conversation with her that didn’t end in screaming and tears. It was still an amazing happenstance to him, even after all of these months.

Oddly enough, he was coming to feel better about things. With Weston’s comfort and Susanna’s encouraging words, he did, indeed, feel better. A glance at the mechanical clock on the hearth told him that it had been seven hours since he’d arrived in the hall. Seven hours of not knowing how Sophina was faring.

In fact, he thought it rather ridiculous that he couldn’t be at her side when she brought their child into the world. He’d very much regretted not being in the room when Laurabel had passed away. He wasn’t going to make that same mistake again.

He was going to see his wife.

Standing up from the table, it didn’t take him long to realize he’d had too much of that fine Spanish wine. The room was a bit unsteady. Wiping his hand over his face, trying to square up his equilibrium, he moved away from the table, heading for the entry door, when one of the massive panels opened, creaking back on its hinge. Lucien didn’t think much of it until a man entered, dressed in mail, with weapons on his side.

It was dark near the entry and Lucien really couldn’t see who it was so he kept walking, knowing at some point he would see the features of the individual. He thought, perhaps, it might be a messenger so he slowed his pace as the figure came forward, into the light. When Lucien finally caught a clear view of the man’s features, he stopped dead in his tracks. It was all he could do to catch his breath.

Rafe de Russe had made an appearance.

My son!
Lucien thought with disbelief. He hadn’t seen Rafe in years. He really couldn’t even remember when last he saw him but that didn’t diminish the fact that he recognized him. Rafe had grown big; very big. He was as tall as his father, easily. His shoulders were broad and his dark hair was cut short, tussled and curled. He had his father’s features down to the shape of his eyes and the moment Rafe recognized his father, those eyes widened somewhat.

In truth, he seemed to have the de Russe ability to conceal his emotions in a crucial situation. Lucien could see it as the young man quickly suppressed whatever surprise he was feeling at the sight of his father. Astonished to the bone, Lucien did the only thing he could do – he walked towards the young man to greet him.