The Accidental Countess (The Aristocrat Diaries 3)

“Smart.” Matthew switched feet. “That could be good in general. We could even pair with some local businesses who might not have the capacity to get online.”

“Hey, is this about my postcard business or someone else’s?”

“I have to admit that I love the fact you’ve moved all the way up here to open a postcard business.”

“I didn’t move here to do that. I moved here to be your walking incubator.”

“At least I’m kind enough to let you have a life while you incubate my offspring.”

“Never, ever say that sentence again.” I laughed, taking my foot from his hands. “That is the single least sexy thing you’ve ever said to me.” I tucked my feet under me and used the sides to help me get up.

“Now where are you going?”

“I need to pee. Honestly, I swear it’s a mental thing. I didn’t need to pee at all until that bloody test was positive, but today, Niagara Falls wishes it moved as much water through itself as I have.” I climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around me, thankful I’d pulled my hair up and not got it wet.

“That is the most delightful visual,” Matthew deadpanned. “I will not be able to focus on anything else for a week.”

“Shut up.” I quickly dried myself and switched the towel for a dressing gown. I didn’t care that we’d just shared a bath together.

I was not going to pee in front of him.

We weren’t there yet.

I slipped out of the bathroom leaving him muttering about waterfalls coming out of his wife’s body. I was more than a little amused about his grumbles considering there would be a literal waterfall in a few months.

Seriously.

I was there when my cousin’s water broke.

Whoosh. Like those Saturday morning kid’s TV shows in the late nineties where the machines opened and dropped slime all over the contestants.

I snorted and almost peed myself.

Oh, no.

My bladder was never going to work properly again, was it?

I did not think I was being adequately compensated for this.

I quickly did my business before my bladder got any ideas and washed my hands at the sink. A little yellow box on the windowsill caught my eye.

My contraceptive pill.

Oh, like I needed that little git. It hadn’t helped me at all, had it?

Nope.

If it worked, I wouldn’t be growing something that was currently the size of a flipping pinprick.

I reached for the box without drying my hands and turned to throw the remaining two months in the box away. It wasn’t like I was ever going to trust the stupid thing again, so I tossed them in the wire rubbish bin. A strip fell out onto the floor, and I bent to pick it up.

And frowned.

This was the strip I’d been working off. I hadn’t taken it for five days, but I’d started this one a few days before the wedding, and it looked like there were too many in the blister packet.

Was I miscounting? Were my days off? There was no way I’d missed one.

Unless…

I took the strip to my bedroom—that was now Matthew’s room, since I hadn’t been to mine other than to get clean clothes—and got my phone from where I had it charging on the pillow. I pulled out the cord and brought up the calendar, then flipped the pill strip and lined the dates up.

Oh, no.

I’d missed four days.

I dropped the strip and leaned back, cupping my hand over my mouth. This was all my fault. I’d missed the pills, and we’d hadn’t used any other kind of protection after we’d gotten married.

The days I’d missed were the wedding, the day before, and the two days following it. I’d never taken the pill that matched the day of the week because I hated starting part way through a strip, so I hadn’t realised then. Not to mention that everything was insane with my stuff not being delivered and settling in and…

I sighed, dropping my chin to my chest. The way everything had lined up put me fertile in and around the wedding, and evidently, those four days were enough for the protection to decrease enough for me to get pregnant.

This one was solely on me.

I’d messed up.

Stupid, stupid me. I knew it only took one missed pill, and I’d done that four days in a row at the worst time.

Idiot. I was a royal idiot.

“The Niagara Falls comment ruined the bath for me.” Matthew closed the bedroom door behind him. “Actually, I’m not sure I can ever bathe aga—Eva?”

Swallowing, I turned around and held up the pill strip.

“What’s that?”

“My pill.” I tossed it to the other end of the bed.

Matthew looked at it. “Not much good now, is it?”

Smartarse.

Like I didn’t think the same.

“I lined up the pills. I started this strip on the first of the month, right before the wedding, and nine days are missing.”