Andrew Lord of Despair(47)

“I am increasing, Douglas,” Astrid said tiredly. “I appear to have conceived two weeks before Herbert’s death, which puts me at about three difficult, uncomfortable months along.”

Douglas said nothing, and he hoped his face gave nothing away, but inside, oh, inside his emotions were reeling. “You are sure?”

“I am.” She did not sound pleased about it.

“My sincerest congratulations,” he replied, but his preoccupation sounded in his voice. “This changes things.” It changed everything.

“I know, Douglas. I know.”

“No, you don’t.” She thought somebody had come along and moved her bishop, when in fact, the entire chessboard had been sent end over end. “Mother has it in her head you should move in with her and I should take up residence in the town house. She will be doubly insistent when she knows of this development.”

“I do not want to live with your mother.”

Douglas nearly snapped that nobody wanted to live with Lady Amery, but held his temper. Astrid had not had an easy time of it at the hands of his family, and besides, she wasn’t done speaking.

“Your mother’s house is not large, and it is dark, cluttered, and completely unsuited to raising a child. I like the town house, and you have said I might live there as long as I pleased.”

Damn all logical females with accurate recall, and damn him for his misplaced generosity.

“What if Mother were to move in with you there? We are supporting three households, Astrid. Yours, Mother and Henry’s, and mine. If you ask it of me, I will move in with Mother and Henry, but Mother will make a nuisance of herself with this baby anyway. You won’t escape her just because she lives with me and not you.”

Astrid scuffed her slippers again, both this time, while Douglas took a leaf from Fairly’s book and let her stew.

“I accept your mother under my roof,” Astrid said, “but you must make her understand two things: first, it is my roof, Douglas. I set the menus, manage the help, and keep the household accounts. Her advice is welcome, but not her interference.”

Whether she knew it or not, Astrid was discussing terms of surrender.

“I can speak to her as often and as sternly as necessary.” Though with Mother, who was even less biddable than dear Herbert had been, his lectures would do no good whatsoever. “What is your other condition?”

“You and she must understand, Douglas, I will spend a great deal of time with my sister, particularly in the coming months. She will have need of me, and I will certainly have need of her.”

“I would not think to keep you from her under the circumstances. As to that, your time here seems to have stood you in good stead. If we are agreed then, perhaps we can put these awkward subjects to rest?” Please God.

Astrid wrinkled her nose, looking young and unhappy. “You aren’t getting off that easily, Douglas. We must make one further agreement. Lady Amery is not to know I am expecting until I decide to tell her.”

The request was peculiar, when that child might mean Astrid had fulfilled her obligation to the succession. Most women would have been crowing over such a coup.

“Why?”

“I lost a child last year, and I was further along then than I am now. To get your mother’s hopes up if another disappointment is in store would be cruel. She doted upon Herbert, and the child will be precious to her.”

Herbert hadn’t said anything about losing a child, but then, Herbert would not have been comfortable alluding to such a situation any more than Douglas was. He steeled himself to touch on a matter as personal as embezzlement. “How long does this business take?”

“This business,” Astrid said with a small smile, “takes about nine and a half months. I should deliver in mid-March, if all goes well.”

Douglas tried to think of a delicate way to phrase his next question—and failed.

“After a certain point, I should think your condition would be obvious. Your sister, for example…” He let the observation trail off, the matter speaking for itself, though rumors abounded that Princess Caroline had hidden more than one interesting event from her royal spouse.

“Felicity is twice as far along as I am, Douglas, and first babies tend not to show as early. This is my sister’s third child.”

He’d already learned more than he wanted to know. Pregnant women made him nervous, particularly when their condition sailed before them like the prow of some small, feminine ship. Thinking of Astrid, as petite as she was, reaching those proportions made him…

Well, he wouldn’t think of her in that condition. Would not.

“I will leave the timing of your disclosure to Mother in your hands,” he said, rising. Mother would know soon enough. The household staff was not immune to her questioning and prying, as Astrid would soon learn. As Henry might realize, if he paid the least bit of attention. “Shall we go inside?”