Monty’s eyes narrowed on her resentful expression. It was a far cry from the way wives of his fellow officers had looked whenever one of them had discovered they were increasing.
But then, women only married serving soldiers if they loved them enough to endure all the privations that following the drum entailed.
And Midge had never felt that way about him.
Theirs was not a love match. Far from it. He had bullied her into marrying him, selfishly wrenching her from that other man, the one she did care for!
No wonder she did not look radiant at the prospect of bearing his child.
A chill descended on him as he recalled an episode from his childhood.
His mother had been chatting with one of her bosom friends. She had startled him by throwing one arm around his shoulder and, for the only time that he could recall, kissing him on the forehead. ‘How glad I am you are a boy,’ she had said, mystifying him. To her friend, she had then added, her lip curling, ‘Now the earl has his spare, lest anything should happen to his precious heir, I have no need to carry on with that tiresome aspect of this marriage.’
He felt short of breath. Something seemed to squeeze around the region of his heart.
No, dammit! Midge was nothing like his mother. She enjoyed making love with him. She did not regard having his child as a duty to be endured.
Did she?
Thrusting his fingers through his hair, he stalked over to the window and gazed moodily out.
‘You may not go riding any more. The doctor has forbidden it. No strenuous exercise of any sort,’ he finished bitterly, though he was now half-convinced that particular stricture was going to be harder for him to bear than for her.
As he spoke of horses, his eyes automatically followed the track that led round to the stables. And he saw his way out.
‘I am going to London,’ he declared, giving the window frame a thump.
It was extremely unhealthy for a man to be so totally obsessed with his wife. Getting breathless because he feared she might not care for him the way he cared for her! If he dithered about here much longer, he might find himself in the humiliating position of falling to his knees and begging for her love!
He heard her get to her feet.
‘I am so glad.’
He could hear the smile in her voice without having to look at her.
‘When do we leave?’
‘I said I am going to London,’ he said icily, turning round and glaring at her. ‘Not you. You are to stay here and rest.’
The hurt look on her face almost had him weakening. Ruthlessly, he quashed the feeling.
The only way to preserve both her health and his sanity was to put a substantial distance between them. It would be madness to come anywhere near her again until he had got his feelings under better control. Better for her too. She would have a few days to get used to the idea of bearing the child of a man she…
A fresh wave of pain surged through him.
‘Do not argue with me!’ he snapped, as she took a breath to do just that. ‘And do not think you can do as you please once I am gone. You are not to go out riding any more, do you hear me? And for the Lord’s sake, don’t let those demon twins lure you into any scrapes, either.’
He stopped short of relating the lecture that Dr Cottee had just given him. He had no intention of frightening her. He could already tell, by the look on her face, simply discovering she was pregnant was quite enough of a burden for now.
Midge sank back onto the sofa again, as though all the wind had been knocked out of her.
‘I understand,’ she said. ‘I give you my word that after you have gone, I will not go out riding again or get in any scrapes with your brothers.’
‘Dammit, Midge,’ he began, instantly full of remorse for having hurt her. But then she lifted her chin and stared at him with such hostility that he bit back the apology.
Instead, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room, before he did what no man with an ounce of pride would ever do.
Get down on his knees and grovel at a woman’s feet.
Midge would never understand men.
Yesterday, Monty had seemed pleased to think she might be carrying his child. But then his face had changed, and he had left the bedroom abruptly. Since then, he seemed unwilling to come anywhere near her.
He had been downright cross when he had told her he was going to London without her.
And then, this evening at dinner, while everyone else had been showering her with congratulations, he had looked positively gloomy.
Even the earl had unbent towards her enough to ask if there was anything he might do for her. When she had seized the opportunity to beg him to consider sending the boys to school, she had thought Monty would have been grateful. He was always saying he wanted them to have the education that was being denied them at Shevington. But when the earl, with a slightly mocking smile, had said he would grant her request, Monty had carried on staring balefully into his soup plate.
He had not risen from the table when she had, and though she had waited for him in their sitting room for hours, he had not come up to her. Eventually, when she heard the village church clock strike midnight, she had decided she might as well go to bed.
Her own. It was obvious by then that he was deliberately avoiding her. Nor had it taken all that long to work out why Monty did not want her to go to London with him. He knew her propensity for getting into scrapes. If he was going to get involved in politics, the last thing he needed was a wife who was a social embarrassment. The way he had lectured her about keeping out of trouble here at Shevington had hammered home what a liability he considered her.
But as the night wore on, her feelings of self-pity burned down along with her candle. As the new day began to dawn, so did her sense of resentment. Could he not at least have offered her his congratulations? After all, the whole purpose of marrying her had been to provide him with an heir. She had fulfilled her side of the bargain, and he ought to be grateful!
And what, exactly, was she supposed to do while he was in London being incredibly important? At least in London, there would be people she could visit.
There was nobody she could talk to at Shevington except the twins! And he had made her promise she would not ride out with them once he had left.
Not that he had left yet. She had not heard the coach being brought round. And it had to pass right underneath her window on its route from the stables to the front door.
Her heart thudding, she swung her legs out of bed, grabbed her dressing gown, tiptoed across their shared sitting room and laid her ear to the door of his room. She could hear somebody moving about. It sounded as though Monty was either getting dressed or his valet was packing up his gear. In either case, it meant he had not left yet.
She had just raised her hand to knock on his door, so that she might at least clear the air between them before he left, when a wave of nausea struck her. She took a deep breath, determined to fight it down. She wanted to bid him farewell in a dignified fashion. And determine whether it really was anything she had done that had put him in such a foul mood yesterday. He did have an awful lot of other problems, besides being married to a woman who was a walking disaster area. She wanted to tell him that…she gulped. With her head held high, she was going to tell him—
It was no use! She was going to be sick! Hitching her nightdress up with one hand and keeping the other clamped