Vicar's Daughter to Viscount's Lady (Transformation of the Shelley Sisters 2)

I have got what I wanted. A daughter. Rafe’s daughter. Not a son. Now my son will be heir. The dark, visceral triumph built inside him until he could have shouted for joy. And then he looked at Arabella, exhausted after hours of pain and effort and risk and the shame washed back. No sooner had she gone through that than he was dreaming of putting her through it all over again. She would show him her daughter and his pleasure would be not for the child, but because it was a girl. You ungrateful devil, he thought. You selfish lout.

‘Elliott?’ Bella wanted him, was wondering why he was not at her side. Elliott made himself smile and went to sit, with care, on the edge of the bed. The baby was already at her breast and the sight knocked the breath out of him. ‘Isn’t she lovely?’

‘Lovely,’ he agreed, putting out a tentative finger to touch the red, crumpled cheek. ‘Like her mother,’ he lied valiantly.

‘Are you all right?’ Arabella asked him. ‘You sound—I don’t know, upset.’

‘Shock,’ he said, pushing the hair back from her face with a hand that shook slightly. ‘I can see why Dr Hamilton and Mrs Knight wanted to keep me out. Mere men are not strong enough for

this.’

Arabella gave a little huff of laughter as though that was all she had the energy for. ‘Here,’ she said as the baby stopped sucking and began to grizzle. ‘Go to your father.’

He found his hands full of the preposterously tiny bundle. The baby frowned at him, all angry red face, blue eyes and a drift of kitten-soft black hair right on top of her head. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Calne,’ he said, feeling inadequate. She obviously thought him so too, for she closed her eyes and began to cry in earnest. You are not a boy, he thought, trying to find some other emotion than one of simple relief that Arabella was all right and the child was a girl.

‘Bring her over here, my lord,’ said Mrs Knight. ‘I’ll hold her while Gwen and Mary make her ladyship comfortable.’

‘No,’ Elliott said, standing up and shifting the baby so she felt safe in his arms. ‘I’ll take her through to the sitting room for a few minutes.

‘Shh,’ he said, rocking her a little. ‘Shh. You must learn to do what your papa tells you.’ She quietened and opened her eyes. Speech seemed to soothe her. Papa? I must learn to get used to that. I must learn to love this red-faced little person who has caused such havoc.

Elliott sat down and talked nonsense softly to her until she went to sleep. When Mrs Knight came back for him the bed had been remade and Arabella was asleep in a fresh nightgown, her hair combed back and held by a simple ribbon. She looked too young to be a mother. His heart contracted and his vision blurred.

‘I’ll take the little one, shall I, my lord?’ It was the new nursery maid, smiling and competent, reaching for the baby.

Elliott handed her over. ‘Where is the cradle?’

‘In the nursery, my lord.’

‘Bring it in here and put it by the bed. Her ladyship will want the child close when she wakes.’ They were talking in whispers, but Elliott doubted anything would wake Arabella until the baby cried.

He recalled telling Arabella to use the old nursery upstairs, being irritated with her when she refused. Now he saw her he understood her need to have the baby close. The cradle, the new white lace-draped one purchased in case of a daughter and not a son and heir, was carried in and the baby settled inside it. Elliott sat down and began to pull off his boots. ‘Thank you, everyone. I will stay with my wife until she wakes.’

The new maid seemed startled, but Gwen and Mrs Knight smiled and bustled her out. Doctor Hamilton looked across at him as he closed his bag. ‘The next one will be easier,’ he said. ‘On both of you.’ He went out, closing the door softly behind him.

Bella woke feeling weary to the bone, sore and utterly content. For some reason she wanted to cry, so she had a little happy, silent, weep.

‘Here,’ a deep voice by her ear said when she sniffed and rubbed away the tears. She turned her head on the pillow and there was Elliott, holding a handkerchief.

‘Thank you.’ She mopped her eyes. ‘I’m crying because I’m happy.’

‘I know. I am very proud of you.’ He leaned in and kissed her gently. ‘Clever, brave girl.’

‘Where is she?’ Bella tried to pull herself up against the pillows.

‘Just there beside you. Here, let me help.’ Elliott got her settled then lifted the baby from the cradle into her arms.

‘You are managing very well with her,’ she said, surprise vying with affection.

‘Thank you.’ His voice was oddly constrained and he did not meet her eyes. ‘She is so tiny I am terrified of doing something wrong.’ He reached out a hand to touch the child’s cheek, then drew it back.

‘What is it, Elliott?’ A cold finger of doubt pierced the warm glow that was wrapping Bella. ‘There is nothing wrong with her you haven’t told me about, is there?’

Chapter Twenty-One

‘No!’ Elliott turned on the bed so she could see his face clearly. ‘She is perfect.’

‘Then what is troubling you?’ Bella twined her fingers into his hand as it spread on the bed, taut to brace him. ‘I can see it in your eyes, Elliott. I know you too well now. Were you very shocked? Mrs Knight was amazed you stayed—I think she expected you to faint or something.’