Kate frowned and Balfour took her hand. “This has nothing to do with you, my dear. I’ve lectured Winderton on the dangers of flying too high and keeping bad company. He was warned. Now it is up to him to heed those warnings.”
“Perhaps he should stay away from London,” she said.
Mars shrugged. “He is a grown man. I had to learn to navigate the waters at a young age and so should he.”
She nodded somberly then looked to Ned, the sparkle returning to her eye. “Tell us about the fight.”
How could he refuse? Of course, he embellished it. They all studied his face and could see no marking. Mars announced that he’d heard Winderton had appeared completely battered.
It was a good afternoon. One of shared friendship. Kate sent word to the cook to prepare a light supper and the Three Bucks enjoyed being together again.
Kate didn’t stay long with them. She had barely touched her food when she stood, bringing them to their feet, and announced, “I believe I need to rest.” She placed her hand on the small of her back. “I hear that most women when their time is near feel a surge of energy. Tonight will not be the night. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”
Balfour started to escort her out of the room. She waved him back. “I can go up the stairs alone. Stay and talk to your friends.” She kissed his cheek and left.
Still, her husband trailed behind her to the staircase before returning.
The three friends gathered at the table. Mars launched into telling a story of one of his adventures in Parliament. He was not the most earnest member of the Lords and he appreciated the gossip more than the legislation. He was also an excellent mimic so his stories were engaging. He was interrupted by a maid in the doorway, her eyes wide with fear.
“Sir, Mrs. Balfour, she is on the steps. She has been there. She can’t get up—”
The men jumped to their feet and raced each other to the front stairs. Kate sat on a step two-thirds of the way up. She looked down at them, her face pale. “I think the baby is coming.”
The hem of her gown was wet. Her water had broken, or, at least, Ned hoped it was water. Her skirts were a dark blue so it was hard to tell.
Mars discreetly stayed at the foot of the stairs as Ned and Balfour went up to her. She held her arms out to her husband. “I don’t feel anything. I think she wants to be born, but I don’t have any pain the way they said I should. What does this mean?”
The water breaking without contractions was not a good sign, but Ned didn’t want to say anything until he knew more. He forced a smile. “It means we should see you to your bed right now.” He looked to the maid standing at the top of the stairs. “Is her bed ready?” He had already spoken to Kate and her housekeeper about what would be needed when the time came—blankets to protect the mattress, soft rags, and pitchers of warm water.
His question sparked the girl to action. She went running down the hall.
“Can you stand, Kate?” Ned asked.
She was very pale. “I don’t know.”
She’d barely finished the words before Balfour lifted his wife into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. The maid who had notified them followed in his wake and ran ahead when they reached the top of the stairs to open the bedroom door.
Ned followed them. In the bedroom, the maids hurriedly made preparations. A heavy blanket was thrown over the bed. It was soft wool. Balfour sat his wife upon it. Kate started to lie back and then stopped when she saw the expression on her husband’s face. Balfour had noticed the swipe of blood on her white stockings. She had not yet. She now looked down.
Ned stepped forward and pulled a blanket folded on the end of the bed up over her legs. “Kate, all will be well.” Or he hoped it would be. The few human births he’d participated in had started with contractions. This was different. He sensed it in his bones.
He was not going to say that to Kate or Balfour. He looked to the servants. “Please make your lady as comfortable as possible.” He grabbed Balfour’s arm at the elbow and directed him out of the room.
Of course, his friend resisted. “I don’t want to leave her.”
“You must. I need to examine your wife, and she will not want you here.”
“Then I’ll be right outside the door,” Balfour declared, speaking to his beloved wife as if to offer reassurance, except Ned heard an undernote. If anything happened, he would be held responsible.
Once he had Balfour outside, Ned went to work. To his relief, there were contractions. They were just very mild and still a good fifteen minutes apart. An examination showed her body was preparing for birth. The only difficulty was she seemed to be carrying the baby too high and that bothered him. What was holding the baby back from the birth canal? And why was there a small amount of blood in her water? He didn’t know.
The hours passed. The contractions eventually started coming closer. Now Kate felt them. She was a strong woman and she bore them in good grace. Ned reminded himself that some births took time. And, yet, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong.
The maids were a godsend. They put compresses on Kate’s brow, they cooed encouraging words, they massaged her shoulders. Her husband and Mars paced outside.
But as the long hours of the night gave way to morning, then afternoon, Ned could see in the women’s eyes that they were growing worried. One had a child. She understood what was happening. Kate was now in the active throes of labor. Her cries understandably upset her husband, who kept knocking on the door. Ned knew Balfour hated being unable to do anything for his wife. Ned felt powerless as well.
Kate’s body seemed ready for birth, except the child had not dropped. Ned knew Kate could labor like this for days, and it would cost her life and her baby’s—unless something was done. And having too-tired maids for help was not going to be enough. They had stopped their encouragement. They knew what was happening. Fear had silenced them.
Fear. And he was supposed to be the strong one.
Ned knew he had to do something. “I’m going to step out a moment,” he said. Battered by contractions, Kate gave him a weak smile and he took that as assent.
Balfour was waiting right by the door. He was unshaven, and worry gave his face a masklike countenance. He practically jumped on Ned. “What is going on? Does it usually take this long? It’s been almost seventeen hours.”
Mars had been stretched out in a hallway chair, attempting to sleep. He came to his feet.
“Sometimes it does take this long,” Ned answered. “Or longer.”
“How can she continue in pain?” Balfour asked. “Can’t you make her comfortable?”
“Balfour, this is childbirth.”
“I don’t know if I can stand it much longer.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t even know if I believe you if you say it is normal.”
Ned studied his friend for a moment. He hadn’t made that claim. Balfour had assumed and he deserved some honesty. “It will grow worse.”
His friend practically pounced on him. “Nothing is going to happen to her, is it?”
“I’m doing my best to see her through.”
“And you will?”
God, there it was again. That demand for a promise. “Kate is strong. She’s strong,” he repeated as if words could make it true. “I’m also going to need help.”