** Any continuity, grammar, spelling, or other errors will be cleaned up in the editing phase once this book is finished. Please excuse any issues you find :)

A loud burst of thunder caused the windows to rattle in the small room, muffling the pained screams of the woman lying in the fourposter bed dominating the center of the chamber. Sweltering heat wafting from the fireplace sent rivulets of sweat running down the faces of the housekeeper and midwife observing the scene before them.

The housekeeper crossed her arms over her chest as the woman in the bed cried out in pain again, clutching her abdomen, and shouted, "When is that god forsaken doctor going to get here?"

"He isn't coming. No one can travel in this storm," she replied, her eyes narrowed and her lip slightly raised.

"I'm not having this baby without him here."

"Like it or not, that child is going to come into this world, and soon by the looks of it, My Lady." The midwife made no attempt to hide the disdain in her voice as she addressed the noblewoman.

The housekeeper sighed and shared a sideways glance with the midwife. "Martha is the best midwife in Amberly. My Lord brought her here specially to deliver the babe. She brought him, his siblings, and several of his cousins into the world. You're in good hands with her, My Lady."

Lydia sneered at the woman. "The incompetence of this entire household never ceases to amaze me. As soon as this is over, I'm going to replace you and..." She was about to say more, but another contraction wracked through her body, cutting off her words. Lydia screwed her eyes shut and clutched at the bedsheets on either side of her.

Martha had only been in London for a few short weeks, having traveled with her daughter to the city to oversee the birth of the Earl's first child, but the information she'd gathered on the Lady of the house was damning.

She studied Beatrice, the housekeeper, as she accepted linens from a younger chamber maid. They had been friends since the housekeeper first started working for the old Earl when they were both in their early twenties. Although Beatrice moved to the city to oversee the townhouse, they still kept in contact through letters. Beatrice wrote of her concerns about the Lady of the house, but it took seeing Lydia's behavior in person to believe it.

Rumors of her treason against the Earl's cousin, Victoria, were overshadowed by tales of her treatment of the late Earl. Even in Amberly, the servants heard accounts of how the Lady poisoned the kind man, causing his death. At first Martha didn't want to believe them, but after seeing the woman Lydia had grown into, it was hard to find falsity in their words.

She went to check the progress of Lydia's labor, but the woman lashed out at her, trying to kick her away. Martha stood straight and turned towards the door, motioning for Beatrice to follow her. "Fine. If you would like to have this child by yourself, no one is stopping you."

Martha had been given firm instructions when she arrived at the house to treat the Lady with cold civility, but she was at the end of her patience. She remembered the girl Lydia was when she spent her last summer at Amberly Hall. Although she had always been spoiled, she was never this bad.

Thunder boomed outside once again, the fire in the grate flaring from a rush of wind entering the chimney.

"Wait!" Lydia called after them as Martha's hand touched the knob of the door. It remained locked at all times, but when the Lady went into labor and could no longer walk on her own, the housekeeper relented and left it unlocked. "Get this thing out of me!"

Martha turned around, glancing and nodding at her companion, before approaching the bed. She checked Lydia to see she was already dilated several centimeters. With all luck the child would be out before dawn. First births always took the longest as the mother's body wasn't used to the task.

Gray light crept across the windowsill and the child was about to make its entrance into the world when Lydia growled, "It had better be a boy."

"And why is that?" Martha wasn't paying attention to Lydia, rather concentrating on readying the linens she would need for the baby.

"Because I'm not having another one." Her tone said that was the obvious answer. Martha sniffed. Such things were ordained by God and if He wanted Lydia to have more children, she would.

"And his father will come to take me away from this hell," Lydia muttered under her breath. Martha's head swiveled towards the woman as her eyes widened in shock. Lydia didn't seem to notice as another contraction overtook her. Beatrice's face could have been chiseled from stone for all the emotion it displayed.

Not long after, the baby's head started to crown and Martha went to work delivering the child. She pulled the infant free and tied off the umbilical cord as an exhausted Lydia attempted to sit up.

"Well, what is it?"

"Congratulations, you have a little girl! She's just precious. What would you like to name her?" Martha exclaimed, wrapping the child in blankets and cooing over the bundle in her arms.

Lydia made a sound deep in her throat as if she were going to vomit and flopped back onto the pillows behind her. "Take it away. I don't want it and I don't care what you call it."

Martha's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared as she held her tongue. How could the woman laying before her have no love for the small life she brought into the world? Her eyes wandered over the scrunched face of the little girl. She was adorable and would grow even more lovely every day. She remembered the day her own daughter was born, the feeling of utter devotion she felt, and tears formed in her eyes.

Lydia didn't deserve the kind of love a child brought into the world. But that wasn't for her to judge. Soon she would be traveling back to Amberly Hall with her daughter and grandson, and this poor child would be raised in a household where she would never feel her mother's love or approval.

Even if the Earl brought his household to the country, it would not solve their underlying issues. And then there was the tidbit about the father coming to take her away. How could that happen when the father was downstairs in the study waiting for news? Unless... but Martha didn't want to think about that. She would have to speak with Beatrice about this tidbit of information. She wasn't sure if they should tell the Earl or not. It would break the poor man's heart and lord knew he was already a shadow of the man he once was.

Martha heard enough gossip to know the once vibrant man had taken to drinking over the last few years. The servants said most nights he could be found in his study, polishing off a bottle of brandy at his desk as he stared into the darkness. He rarely left the house and when he did it was to the gentleman's club down the way. He and the Countess were rarely invited to social gatherings as many of the Society matrons looked down on the Countess and her transgressions. Any closer associations they once had distanced themselves over time until those doors also closed to them.

"It's a pitty so many women die during childbirth." Martha's head flew around to see Beatrice running her finger over the handle of the long fire poker. The woman was staring at the fire and a chill ran down Martha's back as she watched her. "They bleed out and there is nothing anyone can do to save them."

Beatrice's eyes met hers before turning towards the bed. She followed the other woman's gaze. Lydia was asleep, her lips pressed together and her nose wrinkled with a mixture of pain and anger. Beatrice removed the iron poker from the stand and took a step towards the bed before once again turning her way with a raised eyebrow.

A million thoughts crossed through Martha's mind in an instant as she warred with herself. She took a vow to do no harm as she helped bring life into the world. The bundle in her arms yowled, wanting her first meal.

"I told you to take that little rat away!" Lydia screamed, throwing one hand over her eyes as she pointed towards the door with the other. The added noise made the child scream louder.

Martha nodded towards Beatrice. "Lock the door first," she told the other woman as she placed the bundle down in a bassinette next to the bed. Beatrice took a key ring from her pocket as she walked to do as Martha commanded.

Once she was finished, she made her way to the bed. "You hold her shoulders. This will only take a moment."

Lydia's eyes flew open as Martha put her hands on her shoulders and applied pressure. The weakened woman was no match for her strength as she struggled to free herself, realizing what the two woman planned. Lydia started screaming as Beatrice moved her nightgown. The child's cries were louder, drowning out Lydia's wail.

Beatrice positioned the fire poker and looked at Martha. "Ready?"

"Be quick about it."

***

A caterwaul from the second floor, more jarring than a banshee's cry, nearly knocked Christian from his position lying on the couch in his study. The sound died out as soon as it began. That was almost an hour ago.

He wondered if Lydia delivered and what the child was. He picked up the empty brandy decanter and frowned. It wasn't even half past eight in the morning and here he was, looking for a drink. Placing the crystal back on the bar, he ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. It was shaggier than he remembered, he would have to get it trimmed soon. He hadn't left the house in longer than was good for him. Lydia was the one on house arrest, but he felt like the prisoner.

Christian felt trapped. It was a feeling he suffered since the day his parents arranged his marriage. He knew his grandfather had the best of intentions in insisting he keep his engagement to Lydia. After all, they didn't want to cause a scandal or disappoint her family. They were long time friends of his dearly departed mother and father after all, and he needed to honor the spirit of their agreement by marrying their daughter. It was also the only way they would keep their parent's joint business venture in the family. Lydia had no brothers, so if they married, Christian's family would inherit their property and assets. He would happily forgo every penny if it meant he didn't have to spend another day with Lydia.

Although he considered it several times, divorce was not an option. Even if he could prove adultery on her part, there would still be a lengthy court process and the bad press would ruin them both as well as the family name. He had his child and their future to think about now, he hoped anyhow. Christian looked up towards the area where Lydia's chambers were located. There hadn't been any further noises since he was unceremoniously woken from his slumber.

A knock on the door startled him. "Come in," he called over his shoulder. Two women entered, one carrying a bundle in her arms. Christian walked to the desk and leaned against it. He recognized Martha as she came to show him her burden.

Pulling the cloth further away from the tiny face, Christian stared into dark brown eyes. He didn't feel the overwhelming protectiveness or love that he thought would overcome him the first time he saw his child. The sensation confused him. It wasn't what he imagined as he daydreamed about having a family, someone to love and someone who would love him in return.

Martha must have seen something in his expression because her head tilted to the side and she smiled. "It can take a bit of time to grow an attachment to your child. Don't be upset if you don't fall in love with her instantly."

"Her?" Christian glanced at Martha as the baby wrapped a tiny hand around the tip of his index finger.

"Yes, her. Sadly, her mother didn't have a chance to name her before she passed."

Christian's body stiffened as her words penetrated the fog in his mind. "Before she..." he paused.

"I'm sorry, but Lady Amberly did not survive the birth."

"Lydia didn't..." he stuttered, the realization of her words finally hitting him. "Lydia is gone?"

Christian didn't know how to process the information. Part of him felt terrible at the loss of his wife but another part felt a deep and soul numbing relief. It was a feeling he didn't have the capacity to process at the moment. Once again, he looked down at the child in Martha's arms. She cooed at him before opening her mouth wide and releasing a large yawn.

"Elizabeth."

"It's a beautiful name." Martha hesitated before continuing, "The Countess said something before she passed."

Christian saw the look Martha shared with his housekeeper and his stomach sank. "What was it?"

"From the way she sounded, you may not be the father." She cringed in preparation for his anger.

He clenched his jaw and sighed. "I suspected since the day she told me she was expecting. Although she thought I was little better than an imbecile, I can do math." Christian ran the back of his finger over one of the baby's chubby cheeks. "It doesn't matter. She is my daughter. She will be raised as my daughter and no one will ever know differently." He gave each woman a hard stare. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lord," both women responded at the same time. Martha's lips twitched as she tried to hide a smile.

There was another knock on the door as a younger woman entered. Her chestnut curls, piled haphazardly on top of her head, glistened in the morning sunlight as she approached them. Christian's mouth dropped open as she crossed the room.

"Good morning, Lord Amberly," she said, though her words held little warmth.

"Emma, what are you doing here?" Christian cringed as the words left his lips. The last time he had seen her was almost ten years ago over the heads of party guests as she watched his parents declare his engagement with the servants. They hadn't parted on the best of terms. The thought of her heart shaped face, light brown eyes, and the smattering of freckles across her nose which she was so self-conscience about, never failed to make him yearn for what could not have been. They were from two very different worlds.

"I'm Mrs. Fulton now. I am in London to retrieve my late husband's effects from the military office." She cleared her throat and looked away from him. Only then did Christian notice the black widow's dress on her thin frame and the small gold band on her left hand. She held her arms out for the baby. "I'll take her, mother."

"Why?" Christian asked.

Emma glanced at him but it was Martha who answered as she passed the baby to her daughter. "Emma's son is weaning so she will act as a wet nurse until we can find a more suitable replacement."

Christian's heart raced as he watched her leave. "It was good to see you again," he called after her.

She turned with a raised eyebrow before slipping out the door with the small bundle nestled in her arms. A profound pain speared his heart as he watched her go.