“What do you mean?”
Juliet sighed. “Are you worried that given the situation revolving around this child’s birth you might not love him as much?”
“You mean because he’s a bastard? No.”
“Well, there’s that, but that’s not what I meant. What about―”
“His mother being a madwoman?” Emma asked. “No. Nor do I have any fears the child will become a Bedlamite, either.” She exhaled. “I don’t believe Marcus would allow it. I think Olivia was allowed far too much freedom as a child and was spoiled silly. That’s why she’s this way.”
Caroline nodded sadly. “Aunt Bea used to indulge her every whim, same with Uncle Joseph. Marcus is the only person I’ve ever witnessed who tried to control her, but it was too late.”
I’d say. Juliet cleared her throat, and simultaneously her mind of its impolite thought. “I understand that, Emma. But what about the fact your first child isn’t your own? Does that bother you?”
Emma blinked. “No. Should it?”
Juliet shrugged. “It shouldn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.” She tried to keep her tone calm and gentle.
“Not to me, it doesn’t.” Emma leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees.
“Are you certain?” Juliet’s eyes searched Emma’s upturned face, but found nothing out of place. “Nobody would think any less of you if you would have preferred your and Lord Sinclair’s first child to have been one you two had made together.”
Emma blushed at Juliet’s indirect mention of her and her husband’s use of their marital bed, in turn making Juliet’s flush grow even deeper. “That never had anything to do with it,” Emma assured her with a weak smile. “Marcus and I―” she swallowed and tucked a blonde tendril of her hair behind her ear― “we can’t have children of our own so it’s of no concern really as to whom the biological parents are.”
“Then what is your concern?” Juliet asked, blinking. She truly didn’t know whether to be sympathetic to the fact her friend couldn’t have children of her own, or be overjoyed on her behalf that such an unusual twist of fate had allowed this opportunity.
Emma shrugged. “I don’t know that I have a concern anymore, Juliet. You’ve already given me some invaluable advice, and I thank you for it.”
“Good,” Juliet agreed, relaxing. “If you need any more, come see me.”
“I will,” Emma said, her face nearly glowing. “Thank you, Juliet, you’re a good friend, and one day we’ll both be there for you when it’s your turn.”
“That we will,” Caroline agreed, eying Juliet’s stomach. “You don’t think...”
Juliet shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”
“Not to worry, dear,” Emma said. “Your time is coming.”
A slow, wistful smile spread across Juliet’s face. “I sure hope so. It’s been long enough.”
“Long enough?” Caroline asked with a smile. “There is not a certain amount of time that has to pass before you conceive.”
Emma snorted. “This being said by the woman who must have been a rabbit in her past life. Married one, too.”
Caroline rolled her eyes, then looked at Juliet. “I conceived on my wedding night.”
“Are you sure?” Juliet asked. Her mother had warned her the night before her wedding that it might take a few weeks before she conceived. Something about her body needing to be ready.
“Quite,” Caroline said with a blush of her own.
Juliet raised a brow, but didn’t press further. It was of no account to her whether or not Caroline was convinced she’d conceived on her wedding night.
Emma patted Juliet’s knee. “Don’t be so glum. Your time will be here soon enough.”
“I know,” Juliet said. But just because she knew didn’t stop her from wishing it would happen already. She and Drake had been having relations for more than six weeks now, surely it wouldn’t be too much longer given how fertile her own mother had been. Not to mention Drake. His first wife had delivered Celia only ten months after they’d married. Though Drake wasn’t quite as young now as he’d been when he married the first time, he was still what most would consider virile. Plenty capable to sire more children. She swallowed, if he were capable, and they’d been intimate far more times then she could count, did that mean she wasn’t capable? A lump formed in her throat, and despite her best efforts, she was unable to swallow it.