Alcott Hall: Second Sons Book Three

Madeline hurried down the stairs to the drawing room where she found the men assembled, the duke and Captain Renley still in their great coats and hats. “What has happened?”

All the men spun around, their heated conversation halting.

“How is she?” said the duke, all but stumbling forward.

“Is the babe well?” asked Mr. Burke.

She blinked, eyes wide. “Well, I’m not a doctor, am I?”

All three men groaned in frustration.

“She was in good spirits,” she added quickly. “And she awaits Doctor Rivers. Where is he?”

“We went to his house, but he’d been called away,” said James.

“But the maid gave us a conflicting report as to his present whereabouts,” said Renley. “She knows he was called to Carrington earlier this morning to make a house call—”

“But that was hours ago,” added Burke.

“So, the man could be anywhere,” finished Renley. “And the bloody storm is only getting worse. Snow thick as anything. James and I ran on foot to the village. We’d need horses to get to Carrington,” he said at James. “A carriage would be better—”

“I’m not risking overturning a carriage with the doctor inside. Not when Rosalie has need of him,” said James, his tone firm.

“Maybe she won’t really have need of him,” Burke soothed, placing one hand on the duke’s shoulder. “Remember with Little G, her labor lasted hardly half a day and her delivery was smooth as you like. She was up and walking the following morning.”

Madeline stiffened, heart racing. Her promise to Rosalie warred with this new information. Rosalie told her not to tell them, not to worry them. But the desire to protect her friend won out. “I, umm…you should really go find him,” she murmured. “Now.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at her.

The duke saw right through her mumbling. “What are you saying, Madeline? Speak plainly.”

She shifted on her feet. “You should…she needs the doctor, Your Grace. We cannot delay. You should not delay.”

“Oh shit, something’s wrong,” said Burke, his grey eyes stormy as he stepped forward, grabbing Madeline’s hand. “Tell us. What’s wrong? Oh god, we need to go to her.” He turned to leave but James put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hold, Burke. We need to go find Rivers and get him here,” he ordered. “Rosalie needs the doctor, winter storm be damned. That must be our priority now.”

“I will ride to Carrington,” said Renley. “I cannot possibly sit here doing nothing. I’ll go mad. I have to help her. I’ll go now, without delay.”

“And if he’s not in Carrington?” asked the duke.

Burke bristled. “Well, I’m not going—”

“Burke—” growled the duke.

“I’m not leaving her,” he barked. “She needs at least one of us by her side, James. If there’s something wrong, she needs us. She can’t do this alone. I can’t let her be alone.”

James groaned. “Fine, then I will go. We can’t be sure he’s still in Carrington. We’ll double our chances by splitting up.”

“You should both stay with her,” said Renley. “I can send young Jim along the road to New Market. Or Hayes or Tram—”

“Let me go, sir.”

They all turned to see Charles standing in the open doorway.

Madeline gave him a relieved smile. But the duke shook his head. “Bray, you don’t have to—”

“I want to, sir,” said Charles, stepping fully into the room. “James, let me do this for you. I’m a good rider. I know the county same as you. Let me take the road to New Market. You are needed here. I can circle south as Captain Renley rides north. We’ll find him, James. We’ll find Rivers.”

James breathed a sigh of relief before nodding. “Thank you, Bray.”

Captain Renley was already on the move. “Come, Bray. Let us to horse. I’ll send Jim with you in any case. And I’ll take Tram with me. The way will be slow, and we cannot waste time.”

Charles gave Madeline a curt nod as he turned to follow.

“Be careful, Mr. Bray,” she called after his retreating form.

“Come, James,” said Burke, moving towards the door. “Let us go check on Rosalie. Madeline, will you come?”

She blinked up at him, seeing the anxiety etched across every line of his handsome face. Stepping forward, she put a hand on his arm. “Of course, I will, sir. Lead the way.”

What Madeline knew about childbirth would fit inside a thimble. Up until the last year, she didn’t even know how babies came to be. It wasn’t until being with Charles and Warren and seeing them release, that she understood fully the mechanics. All her mother’s veiled metaphors about sowing seeds in fallow fields finally made sense.

Aside from knowing how babies were conceived, all Madeline knew of the actual birthing process was that it was long and dangerous. Women died all the time. Madeline’s own dear cousin Louisa had died just last year.

She was Patrick’s older sister, and the only other cousin who treated Madeline with a modicum of interest of affection. She’d been pretty as a painting—all golden curls and green eyes. She’d been the diamond of her season, winning the hand of a wealthy earl’s son. And then ten months later, Madeline was standing at her grave, her stillborn child buried with her. The worst part was that no one ever talked of it. Louisa went upstairs to give birth and she never came down, and no one mentioned the horrible things that must have happened behind that closed door.

Now Madeline knew why she was kept in the dark: childbirth was terrifying.

Poor Rosalie suffered greatly, her stomach spasming as she doubled over, panting through her pains. Her body was slicked in sweat, her chemise stained between her legs by blood and discharge. She paced the room, Burke or James providing an arm for support. When she felt too tired, she lied down on her side, but the pain soon had her on her feet again.

Two hours into her labor and the gentlemen were still not back with the doctor.

“I cannot keep fighting this urge to push,” she cried, tears of frustration slipping down her cheeks.

“So then push,” said Burke. “Is that not the natural order of things?”

Madeline stilled as Rosalie closed her eyes tight, shaking her head.

“What?” said James. “What are we missing?” His gaze darted between Madeline and Rosalie. “Someone had better speak!”

“It is nothing, dearest,” said Rosalie. “We shall just wait for Doctor Rivers.”

But the duke wasn’t letting this go. He narrowed his eyes at Madeline. “You know something. What did she tell you that she is keeping from us?”

Madeline shook her head, biting into her bottom lip. “I can’t—”

“Tell me,” he said, his voice laced with command.

“James, don’t bully her,” came Rosalie’s weak protest.

“What the hell is wrong?” said Burke, his gaze darting between them.

Before Madeline could reply, there came a knock at the door. Mrs. Davies entered, her eyes wide. “Your Grace, I—you’re needed downstairs.”

“I’m not needed anywhere but here,” he countered. “Whatever it is, handle it, Mrs. Davies. Or see that Lawson handles it.”

“Ordinarily we would, sir,” she replied gently. “But a guest has just arrived. He waits for you below—”

“We are not receiving visitors!” he barked. “Christ’s sake, there is a storm, and my wife is in labor. Turn them away at once,” he added with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Who is it, Mrs. Davies?” called Burke.

The housekeeper’s gaze darted from Madeline back to the duke and Madeline felt her heart drop through her chest, through the floor, beneath the snow, and into the cold hard ground. She knew exactly who had come to call.

No, this can’t be happening. This cannot be happening. Not now.

“It’s the Viscount Raleigh, Your Grace,” said Mrs. Davies. “He says he has come for Lady Madeline…and to challenge Your Grace to a duel.”