A knock sounded against the door.
“Come.”
The door opened, and she almost wept with relief when her brother-in-law strolled in. His dark brown hair was ruffled, and his kind eyes settled on her. He winked, and Lily smiled. Her sister had fallen in love with David only a few days after meeting him. Lily had thought it improbable, but their love had only grown deeper over the years.
“My lord,” he said, dipping into a bow. Then he turned to Lily, a concerned frown pleating his brows.
“May I have a few minutes alone with your marchioness, my lord?”
Oliver glanced at her, and she smiled reassuringly. He left, granting them privacy, but she knew he would not go far.
“How are you feeling, Lily?” David murmured.
“Wretched, just wretched. I have been casting up my accounts three times every day for the past week. My lower back aches, and I feel terribly exhausted most days.”
“I’ll have you right in no time.”
Relaxing at that confident declaration, she allowed him to examine her. If she were the blushing sort, her sensibilities would have been mortified at his thoroughness.
When he finished, David was smiling.
“I am clearly not dying if you are amused.”
“This is a smile of pleasure, I assure you.”
“What is it?”
“You are with child.”
She jolted, a confused rush of emotions tangling through her. “With child!”
His voice droned on, and she only half listened, drowning in a vortex of heartbreaking emotions. “David?”
“Yes, Lily?”
“I need my husband,” she gasped out.
“Did you hear what I explained?” he asked gently.
“I did. Would you please get the marquess?”
David left, and a short moment later, Oliver strolled in, his disheveled hair a testament to his worry.
“Hold me,” she sobbed.
Her love complied immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed and dragging her to him, burying his face in her hair. “Did David give you a good report?”
“He didn’t tell you?” she whispered, fighting the tears that thickened in her throat.
“I confess, I rushed past him the minute he was through the door.”
“Oliver…”
He took her mouth with gentle kisses of reassurance. “What is it, my sweet?”
She swiped at the tears that spilled down her cheeks despite her desire to hold them checked. She settled her hands across her stomach, battling the anxiety rising to choke her. “He says…he says I am with child. And I’ll be terribly ill and will have to endure early confinement.”
Her love froze. “A child?”