“Sex, Dorothea. I’m talking about the intimacy which occurs between a man and a woman.”
“I know to what you are referring, Gwendolyn,” Dorothea huffed.
“Yes, of course you believe you know, but you only understand the mechanics of the act. The biology behind it. The reality is far different.” Gwendolyn pursed her lips. “Without a deep emotional bond, a man of Atwood’s jaded tastes and experience will not be easy to keep entertained in the bedroom.”
Flustered, Dorothea squirmed on her chair. It had to be Gwendolyn’s advanced stage of pregnancy that brought on such frank talk. That, and Gwendolyn’s genuine concern for her happiness. Dorothea struggled to keep that in the forefront of her mind, hoping it would help her retain her equilibrium.
“Lord Atwood is a man of character,” she insisted. “He will treat me with respect and dignity. I cannot believe you don’t see it.”
“I can hardly form a judgment of his character after a ten-minute conversation in which we discussed your drive from Town and the unseasonably warm weather.”
“You may interrogate him over tea,” Dorothea decided. “We have several hours before we must begin our journey back.”
Gwendolyn leaned forward, then shifted back, obviously searching for a more comfortable position. Dorothea winced. Her sister’s distended belly was enormous. Though she was a tall woman, the baby she carried distorted her figure grotesquely. It hurt Dorothea’s back just to look at her.
“I cannot sit in a drawing room with a strange man and take tea in my condition,” Gwendolyn declared. “’Tis highly improper.”
“I assure you Lord Atwood is not especially strange,” Dorothea responded with a smile. “A bit odd at times and exceedingly vexing, but not that peculiar.”
“Brat,” Gwendolyn replied with affection. “If my back were not aching so horribly, I’d throw this pillow at you.”
“Enceinte or not, you would most certainly miss me by a mile.” Dorothea’s grin widened. “Well, at least I’ve finally coaxed a smile from you.”
“I warn you, it won’t last. My mood changes quicker than the weather these days,” Gwendolyn grumbled.
“It’s to be expected,” Dorothea said, though in truth she had no idea if that was the case. She had never before been around a woman so advanced in pregnancy, and frankly, the change in her sister was rather frightening.
Knowing it might take ten minutes for Gwendolyn to rise from her chair and pull the rope to summon a servant, Dorothea took the initiative to arrange for tea. The stately butler appeared in a moment, his expression blank as he averted his gaze from his employer’s expanded belly.
“Have tea brought in here,” Gwendolyn commanded. “There is sufficient room for the four of us to be comfortably seated if Mr. Barrington and Lord Atwood decide to join us.”
“Very good, madam.” The butler bowed stiffly. “Is there anything specific you would like Cook to include on the tea tray?”
“Whatever is freshly baked will be sufficient, but be sure there are a variety and quantity of sandwiches. I’m certain the men will be hungry.”
“I am sure Cook will not disappoint,” the butler declared, bowing a final time before leaving.
Dorothea watched him soundlessly exit the room, her mind turning. This was a far cry from the simple way they had been raised, with a handful of servants in a quiet, rural community. Yet Dorothea was heartened to see that her sister had adjusted well to a more formal atmosphere. She only hoped she too would adapt quickly, for she suspected her life with Lord Atwood would be even more structured.
“The men will be hungry?” Dorothea questioned.
“Well, if pressed I suppose I might be tempted to nibble on a sandwich or two,” Gwendolyn replied innocently.
“Only two?”
“Yes, yes, I know I look as though I have done nothing but stuff my face morning, noon, and night for the past few months, but there is a reason for my exceptionally large belly.” Gwendolyn bit her bottom lip. “I have not said a word about this to Jason, but the physician thinks I might be carrying twins.”
Dorothea managed to stifle her gasp of alarm, but was not as quick to conceal her expression of shock.
“Good Lord, Dorothea, must you look so terrified? I’m frightened enough at the notion of birthing two babies without having you scare me to pieces.” Gwendolyn inhaled a deep breath, then slowly released it. “My husband is a twin, therefore it was certainly within the realm of possibilities that I too would be so blessed.”
Dorothea blanched. Was it a blessing? Childbirth was dangerous business for a woman under the best of circumstances. Birthing twins would be a far greater risk for Gwendolyn and the unborn babes.
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of the gentlemen. Gwendolyn glared at her and Dorothea silently acknowledged the request. She would keep her sister’s counsel and not reveal what she had been told to her brother-in-law. In truth, he could do nothing to alter the situation and if it kept Gwendolyn’s nerves steadier having her husband in the dark for the time being, then so be it.
The presence of the two men seemed to dwarf the small, feminine room. Dorothea stared at the pair, unable to stop herself from making a comparison. They were both of a similar age and physical stature. Jason was fair in coloring, Atwood dark. Lord Atwood was slightly taller, while Jason was broader in the shoulders. Each man was appealing in his own way, though Dorothea thought Lord Atwood by far the more handsome of the duo.
He came to her side, unexpectedly grasped her hand firmly in his own, and brought it to his lips. Dorothea felt her body heat and her skin flush with color. Embarrassed, she glanced over to see if her sister or brother-in-law had noticed, but they were too preoccupied with each other to pay attention to much else.
“Jason, cease hovering,” Gwendolyn exclaimed in a strong whisper as her husband attempted to place another pillow behind her back. “Please.”
“Of course, my love,” he answered in a soothing tone. “Shall I ask Dorothea to pour our tea?”
“I am perfectly capable of lifting a teapot,” Gwendolyn grumbled in a petulant tone.
“I know, I only thought it might be easier if Dorothea did the honors.”
“Well, I would prefer to act as the hostess in my own home. I don’t know why you think that I would want to willingly shirk my duties when-”
Gwendolyn abruptly halted her tirade and stared at Lord Atwood, as though suddenly remembering his presence in the room.
“Please, there is no need for you to go to any additional fuss on my account,” he said congenially. “The last thing I would want is for our visit to place an added strain on you, Mrs. Barrington.”
“It hasn’t.” Gwendolyn’s eyes welled with tears. “I would never forgive Dorothea if she married someone before I had met him. I wanted so much to be with her during the Season, but my pregnancy prevented it. I had hoped I would be able to attend a few quiet affairs early in the social calendar, before my predicament became too noticeable. But it seemed as though my stomach popped out within a month of discovering I was with child and my belly has not ceased expanding.”
Gwendolyn lowered her head into her open palms and sighed heavily. “And now I have mentioned my condition openly in mixed company. How impossibly rude. Pray, forgive me, my lord.”
Carter’s face contorted with kindness. “I do not mean to cause you greater distress, Mrs. Barrington, but anyone with two functioning eyes is aware of your condition.”
Gwen let out a small laugh, but then her face crumpled. “I must look a fright,” she sniffed. “Bloated like a great cow, waddling about like a fat Christmas goose.”
“You are as beautiful as ever,” Jason cooed gently. “Even more so with our child growing inside you.”
“Oh, shut up, Jason,” Gwendolyn snapped, giving her husband a murderous look. “I’m not a simpleton. I can see my reflection in a mirror.”
“Yes, and it makes you more womanly, more enchanting,” Jason insisted.
“It most certainly does not,” Gwendolyn barked. “Does it, Dorothea?”
Dorothea wanted to sink through the floor. Her desire to make a favorable impression on Lord Atwood was going severely awry. Was it possible that they were now all openly discussing Gwendolyn’s pregnancy? How mortifyingly inappropriate.
Gwendolyn had always been the steady one, the one she could count upon to hold everything together. For years Gwendolyn had been ostracized by the social community of their Yorkshire village and she had borne the unfair censure with grace and dignity.
