Gemma scrambled across the bed to position herself behind Kate so that her back was against her chest. “Yes, Kate, push. Come, push.”
The woman was beyond exhausted and yet she found that extra bit of energy.
“He’s coming,” Ned said. “Push, Kate.”
Mr. Balfour stood by the side of the bed, his face an expression of fear, then shock, and then wonder as with deep shuddering breaths of exertion his wife brought his daughter into the world.
And when the first cries were heard, he fell to his knees.
Ned held the baby up as if she was a trophy. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Balfour.”
Kate began laughing and crying. Her husband climbed onto the mattress to rain kisses all over her face.
Gemma extricated herself from the celebration, rising from the bed. Ned handed the baby to her and she carefully carried the wee one to a basin to clean while he took care of the afterbirth. The child was perfectly formed. Ten toes, ten fingers, two eyes, and a mouth that let the world know that her coming into the world had not been easy.
The baby settled after Gemma had cleaned her and wrapped her in a cloth. For a second, she held the child before taking her over to her mother. “She’s beautiful,” Gemma murmured in wonder. “She’s just beautiful.”
Mrs. Balfour found the strength to take her daughter in her arms. Tears welled in Gemma’s eyes as she remembered holding her child the first time. Her baby had been perfect, too. And such a gift, even for the short span of her life—
Her memories were interrupted by a knock on the door. Lord Marsden called, “I’m out here. All of you are in there. Is everything fine?”
He sounded so comical that they all laughed. Mr. Balfour kissed his wife one more time before he walked to the door and opened it. He proudly announced to his friend and the servants, “I have a daughter. A daughter.”
There was a smattering of clapping. Lord Marsden called out, “Congratulations, Kate. Well done. And do we have a name for the newest Balfour?”
Looking down at her child, she smiled as she said, “Anne. For Bran’s mother.” Her husband leaned over and kissed the top of his child’s head as if giving a blessing.
Then he did something that truly moved Gemma. He kissed his wife’s cheek. A simple, heartfelt kiss. And was it her imagination? Was there a tear of gratitude in his eye?
How different this was from when Gemma herself had given birth. She’d been alone with no one but the midwife to attend her. She hadn’t even been in the house of her birth, having been evicted by the man who had won it at the gaming tables from Paul only a few months before.
But that was the past.
And right now, in the present, she had witnessed a miracle.
No midwife would have had the knowledge or the daring to save this baby. Any other doctor of her acquaintance would have backed off. Certainly, they wouldn’t have been as involved in seeing the birth through. Ned had been bold. He’d saved that baby. Without him, the scene in front of her would have been a far different one.
Maids entered the bedroom and began cleaning up. They fluffed pillows so the new mother could relax.
Almost as if from a distance, Gemma heard Ned suggest, “Shall we go?”
He was speaking to her. He’d scrubbed himself clean and had donned his jacket. He held her embroidered bag with his medical case. He looked the same—and entirely different. The air around him seemed to move, to single him out. He was like no other—
“Gemma?” He smiled, offered his hand. “We should leave,” he prodded in a soft voice.
She nodded mutely and was actually surprised that her legs could move. That no time seemed to have elapsed, and yet, everything had changed. Everything. She took her cape from the maid who held it.
Just as they reached the bedroom door, Kate said, “Gemma, thank you for coming. You helped.”
“She did, didn’t she?” Ned said proudly. “I’ll be by to check on you tomorrow.”
“Enjoy your baby,” Gemma said. She wanted to add that they were lucky to have their wee Anne. That if it hadn’t been for Ned . . . Well, perhaps they understood that already. He touched her arm at the elbow and left the room.
Down in the front hall, Lord Marsden was preparing to take his departure. A stableman had brought up his big, bold horse. He set his hat on his head at a rakish angle and admitted, “I don’t know how you did that, Thurlowe. Things weren’t as easy as we hoped, were they?”
“A touch more difficult than I had anticipated.”
And Gemma had to jump in. “That is an understatement, sir. That child is alive because of you.”
His golden eyes met hers. Did he realize how deeply she admired him? Their gazes held—and in that second, she knew he understood everything she wanted to say . . .
Lord Marsden cleared his throat in the sudden silence. “Well.” He glanced from Gemma to Ned and frowned with interest. Could he feel the attraction between them?
Did she care?
“You succeeded and that is all that matters,” the earl finished as if they had been having a conversation. And then he followed it with, “I think I need to find something to drink. And my bed. I feel as if I am the one who’s given birth.”
Gemma gave his comment a wan smile, but truth be told, she could not pull her gaze from Ned’s.
“Good day to you, Gemma. Thurlowe.”
Ned glanced at his friend as if surprised to see him still standing there. He pulled his attention from Gemma. “Good day to you, my lord.”
They watched him leave with his loose-limbed stride. He climbed on his beast of a horse and Gemma leaned close to Ned to say, “I knew you were a good doctor, but this was different. You have a rare gift.”
He laughed as if her praise embarrassed him, as if to disavow her words—and that, too, made her love him. Oh, yes, Ned could be stubborn and resistant to anything he couldn’t control, but he was also kind and fair-minded and humble. His strengths, his faults . . . made him practically perfect.
The butler interrupted them. “Excuse me, sir, Mrs. Estep. The master ordered a coach to bring you home. It is outside now.” And so it was. Gemma hadn’t even noticed the hansom team and vehicle that had apparently arrived after Lord Marsden had left.
“I have my horse,” Ned said.
“A lad is already riding your horse to your home and will see him put up. Mr. Balfour’s orders.”
“Thank him for us, please,” Ned said.
Us. They were an us.
He looked to Gemma. “Are you ready, then?”
“Yes.” She knew she sounded distracted, and yet, she sensed he understood.
The sun was setting as Gemma and Ned climbed into the coach. She was surprised that the day had grown so advanced. She’d lost all sense of time in the birthing room.
Everyone in Maidenshop knew this coach was new and Mr. Balfour’s pride and joy. Plush velvet covered the vehicle’s seats and walls. The quarters were also tight. There was no way for her leg not to brush against his, especially once the coach started moving . . . not that she was interested in pulling away. She looked down at their ungloved hands that were inches from each other.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. He had to be spent. Gemma understood the herculean effort he had made for his friends. It was a challenge to stay alert and aware by a bedside for hours on end. The labor had been difficult but also boring for those in attendance. Then there was always a moment of reckoning—one wrong move and they’d be mourning instead of rejoicing.