Alcott Hall: Second Sons Book Three

Madeline could scarcely draw breath, watching Rosalie suffer like this. And Warren had the right idea, if only James would give him leave to try again! They had to understand that Rosalie wasn’t getting out of this without a little pain. Her baby had to be forced into the correct position or they would both die.

She glanced at Warren again and he shrugged, clearly aware of the same reality.

But they had Burke and James to contend with, and the men would clearly rather die than see their duchess come to any undue harm. However, the truth was clear as day: Rosalie was dying. With each minute that passed where she labored to no success, she was weakening, fading. It wouldn’t be long before all the fight in her was utterly spent.

Burke moved back around to the other side of the bed, dropping into the empty chair at her bedside. “Rosalie, please love,” he murmured, his shaking fingers brushing the sweat-slicked curls from her brow. “Please, keep fighting. Don’t give up. Rivers is coming, do you hear me?”

She whimpered, her body limp as she panted, not really hearing him.

He groaned, sinking back on his heels as he dragged both hands through his inky black hair. “This is all my fault. God damn it!”

“What can you mean?” Madeline asked, eyes wide.

His expression was haggard as his eyes trailed down Rosalie’s tired frame, his gaze landing on her distended belly. He gently reached out a hand, placing it on her. “It’s mine,” he whispered. “This one is mine.”

“Burke,” James growled. “You’re delirious.”

“You know it’s true,” Burke said, his voice so pained it made Madeline’s heart want to break. “We all know it’s true. You were in town for a month in the spring. Tom was out of the country. It’s mine. It can only be mine.”

Madeline sucked in a breath of surprise. Not surprise that her suspicions were correct, but surprise that Burke would admit it before her, before Warren. She glanced over at Warren. He looked solemn, his dark gaze darting from the duke to the steward to the dying duchess.

“Burke, that’s enough.” James reached for his friend with both hands.

“This baby is mine, and it’s killing her,” Burke said on a breath. “Oh god—I’m killing her.” He sobbed, falling forward, reaching for Rosalie with both hands. “Rosalie. Love, please fight. I can’t—can’t live without you—”

James grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him back. “Burke, enough.”

“James, please god,” Burke groaned, turning towards his touch. “I’m so sorry. I can’t lose you both. I can’t live with your hate. If we lose her, and it’s my fault, you’ll never forgive me. So, kill me—”

“I said enough,” James barked, gripping tight to Burke’s jaw, tipping his face up to hold his gaze. “Pull yourself together, goddamn it.”

Madeline’s heart broke for him, tears trailing down her cheeks.

“When she’s gone, send me with her,” Burke went on, all but delirious in his grief. “Tom won’t do it. Please don’t make him do it. It must be you. Only you. Send me with her, James—”

The duke glared at Warren, daring him to speak, but Warren remained stoic, passing no judgement.

“Put me out of my misery,” Burke moaned, his hands clinging to James like he was a man drowning at sea. “I can’t live without your love. And if I’ve killed her, if it’s my fault she’s gone—” His words broke as he sobbed, his face buried in his hands.

James dropped to his knees, all but ignoring the presence of Madeline and Warren in the room. “Oh, Burke…Burke, look at me,” he soothed, one hand holding the man’s jaw as the other brushed over his brow, sweeping back his inky black hair. “Look at me, my love. Look in my eyes.”

Drawn to the duke’s soothing tone, Burke let his gaze trail upwards, settling on James. A thousand years of misery were etched on his beautiful, anguished face.

“Never,” James murmured, still moving his hands along Burke’s jaw, in his hair. They were lover’s touches, and Burke drank them in like a man dying of thirst. “I would never hate you,” James said softly. He leaned in, pressing kisses to Burke’s brow. “Would never…could never—”

“But it’s my fault,” Burke groaned. “I’ve done this to her.”

“Pregnancy is always a risk,” James countered. “We all decided together. Rosalie wanted this. She wanted another baby, Burke. No matter what happens here tonight, you will live—”

“No,” Burke panted, his eyes darting back over to her. “Not without her—”

“You must,” James ordered, his grip pulling him back. “You would leave Tom and I alone in our grief? You would have us raise our daughter without you? Are you so goddamn selfish?”

“James, I’m dying,” Burke moaned. “I’m dying of this pain—”

“No.” His grip tightened on Burke’s jaw. “I forbid it. Do you hear me? You say I am the air in your lungs, and I demand that you keep breathing. Fight while she can’t. Live when she won’t. Stay with me. You cannot leave me. You can’t—” His voice broke as he dropped his forehead to Burke’s and the men wrapped each other in their arms.

Their love was overwhelming. Madeline could hardly breathe through the swell of it, stealing all her air. She glanced back over at Warren, touched to see him no less affected. The man had tears in his eyes, even if his face remained stoic as ever.

Sucking a sharp breath into her lungs, Madeline held his gaze. “Let’s try again,” she whispered.

Warren’s eyes flashed as he glanced from the duke to his dying duchess. “Madeline…”

“I want to try again. All we can do is try. Please, John…”

He let out a sharp exhale, moving back into his position, his massive hands settling over Rosalie’s stomach. He worked quickly, massaging with his hands, willing the baby to turn in the womb.

Rosalie cried out, her hands lifting feebly to try and bat him away.

James and Burke recovered, both of them launching to their feet. “Don’t hurt her,” Burke growled as James said, “Get off her!”

“Both of you shut up,” Warren barked, taking them aback with his forcefulness. “It’s working. No one touch her. No one bloody stop me.”

Madeline prayed harder than she’d ever prayed in her life, watching Warren work.

“Oh god, please,” Burke groaned, one arm around James’s waist as he leaned into him, his eyes on Rosalie.

“Madeline, come here,” Warren murmured, his hands still gently palpating.

She could see the effect it was having, see how the baby was moving. She moved around the bed to his side. “What do you need?”

“Wash your hands. You’re going to feel for the head, help guide it down.”

She gasped, heart racing. “What? I can’t—”

“You want her to die?” he growled, his hands never ceasing in their gentle coaxing.

She shook her head, tears in her eyes.

“All our hands are too bloody large. You’ve got dainty hands. You’ll not hurt her. Wash them good and get over here. Do it now.”

She nodded, not even bothering to see if James was okay with this. She moved to the corner, washing her hands with the bar of soap, and drying them. She rushed back to his side. “I did it. I washed my hands.”

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Your Grace, hold her leg open so Madeline can reach in.”

James didn’t hesitate. He worked his way around to the other side of the bed and crawled on top, the mattress sinking with his weight. He took Rosalie’s chemise and gently raised it up, revealing the bloody mess between her legs.

Madeline whimpered, fighting her fear.

James lifted her leg gently, spreading her wider.

“Go gently now,” Warren murmured. “I’ve all but got it in position.”

“What am I to do?”

“Guide the head. We want it to drop into the birth canal so she can push.”

Her heart raced. “But what do I—”

“Christ, just shove your hand up her cunt and stop when you feel a baby’s head,” he growled. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he added quickly.

“No apology necessary,” the duke muttered. “Madeline, please—”

And it was the duke’s broken plea that had her moving. She placed herself wedged in close with Warren, reaching between Rosalie’s legs with a shaky hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she murmured, feeling the utterly strange sensation of working first her fingers, then her hand inside Rosalie’s body. She ignored the blood and the slick, wet feeling. She had to, otherwise she didn’t know how she’d continue.

“Go gently,” Warren muttered.

“How is this possible?” she asked, thinking about her only other experiences of things going inside a person. Then everything was so tight. But this was…

“The body adjusts to make way for the baby,” Warren explained. “She’ll go back to normal after the birth. Quick now. The babe is all but turned.”

Rosalie groaned in pain as Madeline felt for anything that might be a head. “Oh—oh god,” she whispered. “I think…yes, I think I feel it. Oh, Warren, you did it!”

“She needs to push” he replied. “The baby has been in distress for a long time. It might already be too late. She needs to get it out,” he urged.

“What do we do?” said James.

“Wake her up,” he replied. “Get her to push. She needs to fight now, Your Grace. She’s got a chance at life for her and the babe. Help her take it.”

James looked around wildly. “How do we—”

“Smelling salts!” Madeline said on a gasp. “Burke, fetch us smelling salts, quick as you can. James, let’s try to get her sitting up a bit.”

Burke was already rushing away, calling for the housekeeper.

“Wake up, angel,” said James, brushing Rosalie’s dark, sweat-slicked hair back from her face. “Rosalie, you need to wake. Come on, darling.”

Rosalie groaned, not putting up a fight as James and Madeline tried to get her sitting up. The door burst open, and Burke came storming in, Mrs. Davies, Renley, and Doctor Rivers hot on his heels. Two maids followed close behind.

“Oh, thank god,” Madeline cried, tears falling as the doctor crossed the room.

“What happened?” he said, already shrugging out of his coat and rolling up his shirtsleeves.

“The babe was turned sideways,” said James, his arm around her, supporting her limp form. “She’s been laboring for hours to no end.”

“I turned the babe,” Warren added. “It’s in the right position now. She just needs to push.”

The doctor paused, glancing up at Warren. “You turned it, sir? You could have done real damage, you know.”

“He was brilliant,” Madeline said, coming to his defense. “And the babe is ready. Give her some smelling salts. Make her push—”

“And are you a medical professional, miss?” he questioned with a raised brow.

She crossed her arms, not wishing to rise to his baiting. All she wanted was Rosalie and the babe to live. He could do or say whatever he wanted to her, so long as he helped Rosalie.

“Right, there are too many people in here,” the doctor said. “Her Grace needs room to breathe. Give me leave to work and I swear to you, Your Grace, I will save her if I can.”

Madeline and Warren stepped back, along with Mrs. Davies and the maids, leaving the doctor with more room to work.

“Is Mr. Bray not back yet?” she said at Captain Renley.

“I could not say,” he replied, stripping out of his coat. “I found Rivers and we raced back. Likely, he’s still out there searching.” He moved away towards the bed.

“He’s out there in this storm?” growled Warren, narrowing his eyes at her.

She nodded. “He volunteered to go. He wanted to help Captain Renley find the doctor. He’ll be alright,” she added, gently placing a hand on his arm. She saw the way it upset him to think of Charles riding alone through a snowstorm. It worried her too. But they had to have hope. They had to believe it was not done in vain.

Rosalie Corbin was going to live.

Madeline watched as the doctor got to work. Captain Renley joined the others by the bed, putting an arm around Burke and pulling him away. As she watched, the captain tugged him until they were standing behind the doctor. With the doctor’s back turned, Renley smoothed Burke’s hair back from his face, murmuring soft words. Burke clung to him, his knuckles white.

It was as if Captain Renley knew without words what had just happened, how greatly Burke needed him. Madeline’s heart twisted tight to see their love on private display. An invisible string tied them all together. As they moved, James did too, their spirits pulling on each other, offering each other quiet strength.

If Madeline doubted it before, she had no doubts now. Rosalie Corbin was not just married to three men. The gentlemen were clearly married to each other.

The doctor rattled around in his case, pulling out a glass vial. He unstoppered it, waving it under Rosalie’s nose. With a sharp gasp, Rosalie jolted, eyes blinking open.

“Welcome back, Your Grace,” he said, stoppering the vial. “It is time to push.”

“I can’t,” she whimpered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Madeline was just relieved to hear her speaking again, to see her dark eyes open and alert.

“You can, and you will,” said James, his arm around her shoulder. “You are strong enough for this, angel. Show us now.”

Renley sank down on her other side. “Come on, Rose. The worst is behind you now. Push for us.”

Doctor Rivers dutifully prepared, calling orders to the maids. One rushed past, nearly dropping the stack of sheets bundled in her arms. When Madeline reached out her hands to catch it, she gasped. Her hand was still bloody.

She spun towards the corner with a shaky sob. Rushing forward, she dunked her hand in the basin of warm water on the washstand, scrubbing her friend’s blood away.

Then Warren was at her shoulder, one hand brushing her waist. “Come,” he murmured. “Come away now.” He handed her a towel to dry her hands.

“I can’t leave her,” she replied, tears still falling. She turned back, watching as Rosalie began to push.

His hand on her shoulder was firm. “You’ve done enough. We both have.”

She shook her head.

“You’re all but dead on your feet,” he added gently. “Come away, and we’ll go down and wait for Charles.”

She let her gaze sweep the faces of Rosalie and her men. With a little nod, she let Warren lead her out of the room.