"I know this likely wasn't what you envisioned when I had William request that you accompany us away from Williamsburg," I said quietly, meeting Lottie's eyes in the mirror in the room that William had booked for the two of us to spend our wedding night in, once we had arrived in Richmond earlier that morning.

It was the grandest room on offer at the Swan Tavern, although I believed, in my time, the bed itself would likely be considered a king, but, now, it was just thought to be "very large". I did recall in my reading, however, that Thomas Jefferson would one day stay there. It was a grand four-poster bed which dominated the room, however, as most luxurious beds seemed to be, with pale green drapes, duvet, and canopy. The large bay window also boasted drapes in the same shade, with a comfortable-looking cushion upon its seat. The mantel was white-washed, and featured a green runner along its shelf, with a gold candlestick and white candle within it on either side of the brass and stone shelf clock.

Lottie gave me a soft smile, our eyes meeting in the vanity mirror. "New Kent was positively lovely, miss, and I have enjoyed seeing Richmond," she informed me. "Your Lord Ellesmere has told me that I will be housekeeper of your grand house, once you are married, and we return to Philadelphia. I have never been so far north before."

I returned Lottie's smile; given how Mr. Clyde and her brother's had treated her, I'd wager a guess that she's never left Williamsburg, or, perhaps, the Pleasant Pheasant at all. "I assure you that, once William and I find a way to break the news to his father about our marriage, that we will find a way to manumit you, Lottie. William's father was once Governor of Jamaica, you know, so he is aware of how politics work."

Lottie smiled at me, before she picked up my newly acquired hairbrush (one suitable for the eighteenth century, rather) and began brushing my hair. "You are kind to me, miss, more so than my own father and brothers have been. I take you at your word, and His Lordship has informed me that I shall be given a warm bed, lovely chambers, plenty of food to eat, and a generous salary for looking after the household. My freedom can come later."

My heart ached for Lottie, as well as the loss of her mother, quite plainly the only one who had ever really loved her. I continued answering her questions, and finally admitted that I had never been to Philadelphia, or Pennsylvania, so it would truly be an adventure for us both. I did, however, tell her about my childhood in Scotland, amending a few details here and there, and, as Lottie had never been to Scotland either, she was riveted with the tale. It pleased me that I could offer her something, in the wake of taking her from everything she'd ever known, despite the distress her own family had caused her for being who she was.

"Is your surname Clyde?" I asked her softly.

Lottie shook her head. "No, it is not miss. As my mother and father were not wed, and I was born into slavery, I hold the same name as my mother's. My name, as she gave me when I was born, is Charlotte Cedella Maragh. My surname means great leader, ruler, or king," she said, her eyes getting a faraway look to them, as she likely considered her roots. She had told me that her mother had come from Jamaica in the 1750s as a child, before she was sold to Thomas Clyde and his wife in the middle of her teenage years. "Likely my mother believed that, if I had the name of a great queen, I would have a blessed life."

"Do you like your name?" I asked her softly, and she looked down at me. "The shortened version, I mean. I realize that it was how your father and brothers addressed you. Would you like to be called something else?"

Lottie gave me a soft smile. "Thank you, Miss Henrietta, but I like my name. My mother called me Lottie first, so I think of her when I am addressed."

I returned her smile. "Very well," I answered, wanting her to be happy.

William had sent me out with Lottie soon after our arrival in Richmond, once we were given knowledge of where a local dressmaker sold her wares. We were told that her name was Madame Ségolène Marchant, and she was the expert in the area when it came to fitting dresses for any imaginable occasion. She was very polite, speaking with heavily-accented French, and seemed pleased when I informed her that I was more than willing to communicate in her mother tongue, if it was simpler for her.

"Ah, mon cher, you are too kind, but I must practice," she told me gently. "Now, how can madame help you this afternoon?"

"My mistress is to marry the ninth Earl of Ellesmere this evening," Lottie said, taking charge of the situation. "We realize the short notice, but perhaps there is something that will fit her?"

Madame Marchant appeared intrigued, her pale green eyes filled with eagerness. "An earl, you say? Well, I do savor a challenge," she declared, beckoning me closer. "Viens, chérie. We will select the parfaite gown for your wedding ce soir."

The gown was stitched from gossamer silk, and was, clearly, one of the smoothest textures I'd ever had the opportunity to put my hands on. It featured a square bodice, long sleeves ending in the tulip shape, and layers upon layers of silk skirts in the purest white silk. William had stated that no expense would be spared, and I was shocked when, after the fitting, Madame Marchant presented me with a set of pearl earrings and a matching necklace.

"These are my wedding gift to you," she declared. "Seeing you, a vision in my work of art, ma chérie, makes me réticente to return to ma France bien-aimée..."

"Don't go back!" I cried out before I could stop myself.

Madame Marchant looked me up and down. "Mon cher, are you malade?"

"No, I'm quite well, merci madame," I answered quickly. I lowered my voice, once I realized that Lottie was looking over some of the more informal gowns, and I resolved to get her one or two for her loyalty, as well as the notion that she would need far better clothes than her father had ever bestowed upon her. "I am sure you have heard the rumors about civil unrest happening in France..."

"Ah, oui," Madame Marchant replied, nodding. "Le roi Louis et la reine Marie are... How do you say...? Impopulaire," she said, wincing slightly, permitting me to know that she likely felt sorrow for them.

I placed my hand upon her arm, and waited for her to look up at me. "It is going to get worse," I told her softly. "Stay away from France, Madame Marchant, for your own safety. Do not return for thirteen years, I implore you."

Madame Marchant stared at me, her eyes wide, as she took in my determination. "You know something, mon ami intelligent," she whispered. "Something which will forever change le monde we live in, but daren't speak of it, for fear of abattage."

I nodded. "Oui," I answered, my voice shaking.

Madame Marchant patted my hand. "Très bien. I shall heed your warning," she said softly, and turned to regard Lottie for a moment, all-business again. "Now, shall we get your companion a dress or two?"

Lottie was resplendent in the mint green that Madame Marchant and I had selected for her, and I was pleased that William didn't seem to mind that I'd gotten her two new dresses. The second one was a shade of robin egg blue, which also went fabulously with her coloring. I found myself smiling later on when William said that we would have to do more shopping once we formally established our household, as Lottie would have to look the part of a respectable housekeeper of a noble house.

It was when I found myself being escorted to the carriage by Lottie that evening that my nerves began to settle in. I appreciated that William had avoided eye contact with me, and sent messages through Lottie to me from the moment the sun rose, not wanting to bring bad luck on our future marriage. I would be in the carriage for the quick excursion to the Anglican Church on Broad Street, while William had borrowed a horse from the tavern owner, who was a lovely gentleman and had treated us exceptionally well upon our arrival. Lottie, meanwhile, would serve as one of the witnesses to the wedding, while a second bishop agreed to stand in so that we had two.

I arrived at the church, and Lottie walked in first, before I made my grand entrance in what many would likely believe was an eyesore of a wedding gown. However, I was in for a shock when William inhaled sharply at my arrival, leading me to wonder if he was thinking about the price of the gown, or if he was actually temporarily flabbergasted at my appearance. I put it from my mind as I approached him, however, taking him by the hand and saying my vows after William had done so first.

I did my best to dress alone that evening in preparation for my wedding night, as I wanted to ensure that Lottie got plenty of rest. We would be stopping halfway in our journey tomorrow for a brief lunch, before going to Tappahannock. The day after would also be a long one, as we intended to get clear to Fredericksburg, and, hopefully, leave Virginia altogether afterwards. I knew that Maryland would be next, and then, at last, Pennsylvania, although I did wonder what we were going to tell Papa and Mama.

I could hear the door to the bedroom closing, and I peered through the slats of the beautiful screen the room had on offer. It was painted with copies of The Lady and the Unicorn, with the inscription "À mon seul désir", meaning "To my only desire". I could see William undressing for bed, and I found my jaw dropping as I saw his broad shoulders and milk white skin for the first time, which the firelight kissed. Flushing madly, I pulled my nightgown over my head and straightened my hair as best I could, before stepping out from behind the screen.

"Wife," William said, his voice catching in his throat.

I stepped forward, although my journey was tentative. "Husband," I replied.

William hesitated where he stood, still beside the immaculate four-poster, before he slowly extended his hand, the firelight dancing across his skin. "Come."

My feet were silent upon the highly-polished wooden floor as I stepped closer, allowing myself to bring up my own hand to meet his. As tradition dictated, I had worn short gloves whenever we had gone out in public, which included carriage rides, so this was the first opportunity that my husband had to touch my bare skin. Even my wedding gown had had gloves, so the only exposed bit of skin had been my neck and face.

"Soft," he whispered, stepping towards me, and closing the distance between us, running the pad of his finger in between each knuckle, followed by each finger, until he wrapped up his hand in mine and stared into my eyes.

I had always prided myself on taking care of my skin, ensuring that my athletic prowess had never made calluses, or other blemishes, form. "I'm told maidens hands are so."

William gave a small smirk, though there was no malice behind it. "You are not a maiden. At least, you will not be...when..." He turned slightly towards the bed beside it; Lottie had already turned down the duvet, before retiring for the evening. A bed warmer had already been considerately placed safely upon the tiles of the fireplace by William, likely so that the pair of us did not inadvertently kick at it in the night.

"No," I agreed softly, raising up my free hand, and held it, poised, a short distance away from his chest, wanting desperately to touch him, but not wishing to do so without permission, "I will not be."

William caught sight of my hand, pivoting slightly so that his body made contact with my hand, eliciting a gasp from us both when they physically met for the first time. He watched, as if fascinated, while I traced the contours of his heavily muscled skin, my fingertips getting to know his body with the most intimate of dances, touch. He, too, lifted his free hand, as I continued my exploration, and used it to cup my cheek, gently tilting my chin up until my eyes met his. He stared at me in the darkness, not speaking, merely stroking for a moment, until he leaned down and brushed his lips to mine for the second time.

This, of course, was different from the kiss we had shared before Lottie and the bishops—far different. This kiss had hammering heartbeats, electrifying extremities, and the silent, unspoken, plea for more with the baited breaths emitting from us both. William's tongue slowly emerged from between his lips, tracing mine, eliciting a squeak from me, which prompted tentative exploration on my end. My arms acted of their own accord, inadvertently tugging out of William's soft grip, as well as their mapping of his torso, to go around his neck, standing a bit upon my toes as I did so. His arms around my waist did not frighten me, his movements almost reverent as he laid me down in our temporary marital bed beneath him, slowly pulling back to gaze down at my face.

I sat up momentarily, taking ahold of the bottom of my nightgown. With a quick glance William's way, he assured me with a small nod that he was fine with the outcome. I lifted the nightgown completely over my head, shaking out my hair for a moment, before I tossed it onto a nearby chair, and resumed my position of lying beneath him.

My husband's fingers tangled briefly in my raven mane, which was now scattered about on both pillows, something seemingly stirring from within him as he never broke eye contact. "You're beautiful," he said softly, not wishing to break the quietness of the spell around us.

I felt my heart hammering all over again as I looked up at him. "Am I?" I asked; it was an honest question, for I had never considered myself to be beautiful. Nice-looking, was how I had always described my looks, with high cheekbones, pale skin, full lips, upturned nose, dark hair, and blue eyes.

"You are," William answered, stroking my cheek. He appeared unsure, as if he wanted to say more, but there he remained, motionless, above me.

"I... I know that, when it is a woman's first time, that it will hurt," I told him, and his eyes snapped onto mine. "My... My mother informed me of that." I cursed myself to lying to him, on our wedding night of all nights, as it had been Auntie Bree who had told me, and Mandy as well, when she had given us the very awkward, yet very informative, sexual education speech during our first couple years of secondary school.

William seemed to accept that answer. "I shall endeavor to be gentle with you..."

"But do not treat me as if I am made of glass, either. Please," I said softly. "Do not be so rough as you would normally..."

William cocked an eyebrow.

"You are a man," I informed him, shrugging my bare shoulders. "Surely you have been with women before now. I shall not judge you for it; you were not married to me at the time. However, you know entirely well that we pledged fidelity to one another in front of not one, but two bishops of the Anglican church. I... I know I cannot force you to be loyal to me, William, for you do not love me, and I do not love you, as we have barely known one another for three days, so love surely cannot come so quickly..."

William, at my words, leaned down and kissed me again. "I may not love you, Henrietta, but I shall honor you with my life, and with my fidelity. I like you, very much, and, while we made a promise not to fall in love with one another, I believe I could fall in love with you, one day, once we have become properly acquainted."

I felt my eyes widening as I stared up at him, the fire and the small bedside oil lamp the only sources of light in the room. "I... I believe I could fall in love with you, too, William," I said softly, and angled my hips ever so slightly, so that they were flush with his. "Perhaps we may make our marriage legal and binding now?"

William's eyes brightened as a slow smile spread across his face. "We may," he replied, finally allowing himself to undress completely, before slowly permitting himself to tease my folds, and swore under his breath.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"God's teeth, you're wet," he breathed, his eyes snapping onto mine.

I flushed, lowering my eyes. "It would be difficult not to be, when I'm here with you. I am not carved from marble, William."

William coaxed my chin up again, waiting patiently for my eyes to meet his once more. "Are you informing me, my dear countess, that you desire me?"

I trembled slightly beneath him, knowing that he wanted the truth. "Yes," I admitted slowly; it was not that I didn't wish to admit it, but that I was nervous of the eventual outcome.

William stroked my folds then, growing inexplicably harder as I whispered my affirmation. "Let me make this quite clear," he said, his voice deliberate, as he leaned in closer, putting just a bit of pressure inside me, but not entering me completely, not yet. "The feeling, my dearest wife," he declared, and pushed his hips forward, causing me to gasp, the momentary pain filling my senses completely for a handful of seconds, until it was gone again, "is exceptionally mutual."

I reached upwards and braced my hands upon his shoulders. "I suppose now would be the time for me to beg..."

William raised his eyebrows. "I was not aware you had a begging bone within you, Henrietta Ransom," he said.

I shivered deliciously as he referred to me by his surname for the first time. "Not for that," I said, giving him a half smile, "but to beg for you to prove your words."

William smirked. "I suppose that can be arranged," he responded, slowly retreating from me, before snapping his hips forward again, hitting something altogether marvelous inside of me, which directly caused my toes to curl, and my senses to become a whirlwind of pleasure.

I trembled as I felt Claire's eyes upon me, barely aware of her gently leading me away from the open window, and shutting it. I permitted her to set me onto the seat and take ahold of my wrist, counting my heartrate. I remained still, allowing her to go through with an examination; she put the back of her hand against my forehead, tsking slightly.

"You are a little warm, and this likely isn't helping matters," she declared, gently easing my fichu out from underneath the neckline of my gown, wincing slightly at the sight of my scar. "Is that better?"

I nodded, although the movement was stiff. "Yes."

Claire retuned my nod. "Very good," she said, using it to dab slightly at the sweat, still sticking slightly to my skin. "Is vomiting something you do when you're stressed?"

I lowered my eyes. "No, I typically get headaches," I told her softly. "I was a complete nightmare during my Scottish Highers..."

Claire smiled. "I can imagine," she answered softly, commiserating with me. "The School Certificates were particularly bothersome for me, as was training to be a nurse, and my education at Harvard Medical School..."

"Given that you were the only woman in the class, I can imagine so," I answered.

Claire shared in my momentary laughter for a moment, but, afterwards, allowed herself to turn more serious. "When did your courses stop?"

I flushed then, the sudden warmth within me startling me for a moment as I came back to earth, the notion of William's and my marriage—or clandestine affair, given that we hadn't had the opportunity to explain to anyone about it before Claire dragged me out of there—coming to the forefront of my mind with Claire's question. "Two weeks before I came," I said softly, my fingers knotting themselves together upon my red skirts, which made the entirety of the notion that I was literally wearing a whore's colors filling me with shame.

"Before you came... Came to the Outer Banks, Yorktown, or Pennsylvania?" Claire asked me slowly, wanting a clear answer.

I swallowed. "Two weeks before I went to the Outer Banks," I admitted. "My last period was at home at Lallybroch with Uncle Roger and Auntie Bree. It was three days instead of five. I think it had to do with the stress of the planning..."

Claire nodded, not needing me to explain. "All right. You arrived in Yorktown on the fifteenth of that month, which would place your last cycle as starting on the first of October, and then concluding on the third. You and William departed from Yorktown that same day... Where did you finish your journey?"

"We got to Williamsburg, where we stopped at the Pleasant Pheasant Inn, where I met Lottie, the young mixed-race daughter of the innkeeper, a Mr. Thomas Clyde. I noticed that Mr. Clyde was exceptionally cruel to Lottie, so I offered her to accompany us, and she accepted. However, before that, two of her three elder half-brothers, Abraham and Elias, delivered my trunk to my bedroom, and sent Lottie away. Then..." I sighed, lowering my eyes again and wrapping my arms around myself for added security. "The pair of them ambushed me, not particularly liking what I had to say about their, as well as their father's, treatment of their younger sister. Abraham was the one to give orders, while Elias held me in place. I managed to kick Abraham in the groin and screamed loudly enough for William to come and find me..."

Claire nodded, sitting beside me and placing a gentle hand upon my arm. "I hope you realize that their actions were not your fault."

I sighed. "On some level, I know that," I answered, finding the intricate pattens of the carpet on the wood floor exceptionally fascinating in the light of the fire. "But, I think a part of me will always blame myself. Rationally, I know I shouldn't, but a lot of me wonders if I hadn't antagonized them, would they still have bothered with me?"

Claire lowered her hand to clasp at mine, and I held on tightly. "You can't think about that, my love. If you do, it will be a never ending cycle of you asking yourself 'what if?' That certainly will not help matters."

I nodded. "I know," I said, not letting go of her hand. "So... William came to my rescue, and got me, as well as my trunk, out of there. I explained about Lottie, and we took her with us without incident. In the carriage, William said that he had let the two of them get off far too easily. His knuckles were bruised," I explained, and Claire raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. "I said that I believed that Lottie's brothers likely were the gossiping kind, the kind of men who brag about their trysts with women, consensual or not. We had given false names at the inn, but they could easily give out our descriptions, and I would have been ruined by today's standards..." I shook my head at myself.

"Did William propose marriage?"

I bit my lip for a moment before letting it go. "Yes, although I attempted to dissuade him of it, due to the notion that he was an earl and I'm..."

"You are the daughter of a lord, as well as the niece of a man who holds both titles of a duke and an earl, a perfectly reasonable match," Claire told me firmly. "Yes, there is the added obstacle of you spending most of your life in the twentieth century..."

I shook my head at that. "As well as the notion that my father is William's adopted father, the man who raised him..."

"But did not raise you, nor were the pair of you raised together," Claire told me quickly. "Not to mention the notion that there is no shared blood between you. The Dunsany family, William's biological mother's family, were merely close friends of John and Hal."

"What do you know about them?" I asked softly. "William... As his mother died when he was born, doesn't readily know..."

"Geneva Dunsany was the elder of the two daughters; the Dunsany family had lost their son to war some years before," Claire said quietly. "Jamie, in the aftermath of Culloden, was imprisoned at Ardsmuir, where John met him, as he was in charge of the prison. Afterwards, he was paroled to an estate in the Lake District—"

"Helwater," I whispered.

Claire nodded. "Yes. He worked as a groom while there, due to his love of horses... Anyhow, Geneva was betrothed to the eighth Earl of Ellesmere, a very old man from what I have been told, and threatened Jamie into lying with her—"

I turned towards Claire, apoplectic. "He was forced?"

Claire raised her eyebrows. "You do not believe a woman can rape a man?"

"No!" I cried out, shaking my head. "Of course women are capable of that, especially when they are in positions of power, I..." I sighed. "Auntie Bree mentioned that you and Jamie had been separated for twenty years. I suppose William was born during that time?"

Claire gave me a small smile. "He was," she confirmed.

I got to my feet, placed my hands upon my hips, and proceeded to pace back and forth, as much as my bedroom would allow me. "I suppose Geneva did not wish to sacrifice her virginity to an old man, which I can sympathize with, but to threaten Jamie..."

Claire huffed slightly at that. "That is a good way of thinking, and you are correct."

I nodded, continuing to pace back and forth. "So, Geneva and Jamie...conceive William. I suppose the old earl believed he was the father?"

Claire shook her head. "No. According to Jamie, Geneva refused to permit him to ever share her bed, let alone go near her."

"I can't say I blame her, given that the match was forced upon her, but that is still no excuse for what she did," I said, shaking my head. "What happened? After the labor, which I know was how she died."

"The old earl lost it completely," Claire answered softly. "He had the baby in one arm, and a pistol in the other."

I stopped walking, and turned to gaze at Claire, feeling my eyes widen, and my mouth agape like that of a fish. "A pistol?" I squeaked.

"Jamie was able to get William away from the old earl, saving his life, although the old earl's death was attributed to misadventure," Claire said softly, leaving out a fair amount of detail, but, in Jamie's defense, the old earl deserved it, whether the baby was his or not. "Jamie remained at Helwater to be near William, but, after six years, he believed he should return to Lallybroch. He asked John to raise William, and John proposed to Isobel, Geneva's younger sister. John and Isobel gave William two loving parents, but, when John took the position as governor in Jamaica, Isobel died during the crossing. William..."

"He must have seen it happen," I whispered, recalling when I had asked William about his mother, and he had only told me that she had been buried at sea. "He won't discuss it. He... He said that when she was buried at sea, no words were spoken, no... No one but him was there who loved her..." My eyes filled with tears as I envisioned it—sweet William, as a small boy, filled with sadness at the notion that his mother was lost and gone forever.

"After you left the Pleasant Pheasant," Claire said, leading me to believe that she was about as impressed with the name as I had been, "where did you go?"

"William's driver took us to New Kent, where we stayed at the Vaiden Inn," I responded, and began to pace back and forth again, in an effort to keep my mind calm. "William proposed soon after we'd left Williamsburg. We left New Kent early in the morning and made it to Richmond, where I bought a wedding dress, as well as two new dresses for Lottie, to thank her for her agreement in becoming our housekeeper. William and I were married that evening at St. John's, a church in Richmond, that very night."

"Placing your wedding day on October the seventeenth," Claire said softly. "Given the comfort you plainly felt with one another, evidenced by what we all inadvertently walked in on, I'm to assume that you and William have engaged in...regular physical contact?"

I stopped in my pacing again, but couldn't bring myself to look at Claire. "We consummated on the night of the wedding," I said softly, "and always shared a bed until I arrived here. I arrived on schedule on the twenty-fifth, and it took three days for William to secure lodgings in Elfreth's Alley. He stayed in a nearby tavern, and, while we wanted to see one another, we did not, as he refused to have me in a tavern, although he did on our wedding night, as we stayed in The Swan, a tavern in Richmond."

"Likely because you were traveling together and it would have been safer for you to remain together," Claire responded, her tone logical. "So, ever since William secured lodgings in Elfreth's Alley, you have been together nightly?"

I nodded. "We have," I said quietly.

"How on earth did you manage that, Henrietta?" Claire asked, getting to her feet and crossing the room, so that she was in my line of vision. "Elfreth's Alley is over a half hour away from here. I assume you left Chestnut Street under cover of darkness and returned at dawn?"

I crossed my arms, feeling very much as if I was on trial, but doing my best not to become defensive with her. "William suggested we secure an ally."

"An ally?" Claire asked, raising her eyebrows. "Who?"

"Mrs. Figg," I said at last, feeling a bit defeated. "She agreed. She got a driver she could trust, who took me over in the carriage after everyone had gone to bed, and then had it come back for me early in the morning before everyone awoke. I would then sneak into the house and get into bed here, and wait for one of the maids to dress me for the day."

"It is the twenty-second of December now, meaning that you are likely two months along in your pregnancy," Claire informed me softly. "Are you experiencing morning sickness?"

I sighed. "Now and again, but it is not a constant thing."

Claire nodded. "Every pregnancy is different," she informed me patiently. "Have you had the urge to urinate more?"

I wrapped my arms around myself again. "Yes," I admitted.

Claire nodded. "All right. Are you tired more often than not?"

"I am, but I merely believed it was due to interrupted sleep, due to going to Elfreth's Alley and back again in rapid succession," I said quietly.

"Are your breasts tender?"

I grimaced, a bit uncomfortable with the question. "Yes," I said, the discomfort plainly evident in my tone.

Claire gave me a small, understanding smile. "Heartburn or indigestion?" she asked.

"No, thank goodness," I said, shaking my head.

Claire's smile widened. "Well, perhaps later," she said, stepping closer to me. "I believe that you're pregnant, Henrietta."

I found my hand slowly going towards my stomach, gently placing it there. "When William asked me to marry him, it was to save me from ruin. The notion that we've actually conceived a child is..."

"You don't want children?" Claire asked.

I looked up at her. "No, I did want... Do want children," I corrected myself. "I suppose I believed that I would be older than eighteen to have one."

"Well, your baby is likely due in midsummer, so you will be nineteen when you give birth to he or she," Claire told me, her voice patient. "Are you happy?"

I gave Claire a soft smile. "About my pregnancy?" I asked. "Yes. As for the..."

"Revelation about your marriage?" she asked.

I was about to reply, whereupon there was a crash from somewhere below. "William," I whispered, dashing towards my door. I threw it open and ran down the staircase, hurrying towards Papa's study, hearing the comingling shouts of Papa, Uncle Hal, and Jamie. I rushed forward, not wanting to be the kind of wife who stands in a corner while her husband is berated, even if we came from the same family. "That is enough!" I shouted, and all the pandemonium around me ceased. I felt quite like Moses, while my family was the Red Sea, parting for me as I walked past them all, and came to stand beside William.

"Henrietta Elizabeth Lydia Grey, I strongly advise you return to your bedroom," Papa said, his eyes filled with rage.

William moved slightly, so that he stood in front of me. "Her name is Henrietta Elizabeth Lydia Ransom now," he declared. "She is my wife, and she stays," he said firmly, and, to my relief, offered me his hand, and I clutched it.

"We need to discuss this, clearly, but we will do so together, as a family," I said, turning towards my husband, who, nodded at me with encouragement. "Now," I said, turning to look back at my family, unsurprised to see that Mama was not among them, as she likely was taken to bed, "William and I will answer any questions you may have for us, but we will do so calmly and rationally. But first," I said, holding up my hand when Papa, Uncle Hal, and Jamie all chimed in with their questions, "I wish to apologize for you walking in on us. I told my husband that it was a bad idea," I said, raising my eyebrows at William, who looked guiltily at me, "but he insisted. That is all I will apologize for."

Papa crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "You will not apologize with marrying without your father's permission?" he asked, his voice low, as if he was containing his rage.

"We had permission from two bishops," William said, straightening up beside me, "one of whom performed the ceremony, and the second whom blessed our union."

Jamie sighed at that. "I ken it was in an Anglican church..."

Papa lowered his eyes, and whispered, "Jamie, we agreed that, since William was born in England, that we would raise him as such."

"No need to whisper about that," I said rather pointedly, and both Papa and Jamie's gazes snapped onto me. "William inadvertently informed me about his parentage when he escorted me to the medical tent at Yorktown."

"Yorktown?" Uncle Hal demanded, looking deranged. "What in God's name were you doing at Yorktown, Henrietta?"

Papa looked murderous as he turned fully towards William. "It was you?" he demanded, practically seething with rage. "It was you who slashed your own sister's skin?"

"Papa, stop!" I shouted, letting go of William's hand, reaching him before Jamie or Uncle Hal could hold him back, and grabbed ahold of his arms, subduing him, while his eyes turned wildly onto me, as if amazed that a woman could achieve such a feat. "I said that it was enough, and I meant it. Enough," I told him, my voice strong, convicting, so much so that he lowered his arms without my having to continue to put pressure on them, and stepped away.

"Yes, I marked Henrietta," William declared without hesitation, stepping deliberately between me and Papa again, "although, given the circumstances, I initially believed it to be a warranted action."

I could see Papa looking speechless, as if attempting to fathom why that was, so I decided to tell him myself. "I was dressed as a man, at the time, in the uniform of the Continental Army, where Jamie had made me a sergeant. And, if you go trying to blame him," I said, raising my voice as he turned to potentially hurl insults Jamie's way, "I gave my name as Henry Ashworth, along with false documents of my educational accomplishments. The only falsehood on them, of course, being the name of Henry Ashworth. Neither of them recognized me, as the last they saw of me was at Lallybroch, when I was a baby, in 1780."

William turned halfway around then, facing me. "I don't understand," he said softly. "You are eighteen, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Yes, I am."

"But... That would place your birth in 1763," he continued, shaking his head. "I don't understand. How could you have been a baby in 1780?"

I sighed, knowing that the time had come. "Jamie," I said softly, and he gave me a stern look. "I apologize. Grandda," I corrected myself, and his expression softened a bit, much to William's confusion. "Would you please go and find Claire? I'm sure she is checking in on Mama."

Jamie nodded his head and left the room.

"Papa," I said, turning to my father, "I suggest you go and be with mama. This was a trying evening for her. As for the rest, William and I will tell you tomorrow."

Papa moved to protest, but Uncle Hal placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "Very well, then," he said at last, moving to leave. "Hal, you'd best see to your wife, who has been with my wife for quite a bit of time."

I watched as Papa and Uncle Hal left, not having it in me to call them out for not bidding the pair of us goodnight. I turned back to William, seeing the plethora of questions marring his face. "I can tell you that, while I have the opportunity, that Claire... Grandmama," I said, shaking my head at myself, "looked me over while I was in my bedroom."

William's eyes widened. "Are you all right?"

I bit my lip, knowing that he had every right to know. "I am with child," I said, and William appeared shocked. "And, I will also tell you that, yes. Lord John Grey and Alexandra Hathaway are my biological parents. We technically share a father, meaning that we are half-siblings, but by virtue of your adoption. We share no blood between us, William, although this baby," I said softly, reaching towards him, taking him by the hands, and placing them upon my belly, "is the two of us. You and me."

William's fingers splayed along my belly, shaking his head as a small smile graced his lips. "I am happy," he said after a few moments of silence, before looking up at me again. "And you will tell me everything?"

I turned then as I heard two sets of footsteps, seeing that Claire and Jamie were coming towards Papa's study. "We will tell you everything," I told him softly.