Margaret waddled over to him, a lemon drink in hand. He did not like her to walk, not when she was so near to her confinement, but she insisted that she could not miss Oscar’s first horse-riding lesson. He pulled a seat closer to him and helped her to sit.

“Now, do not worry if he looks scared. One’s first time on a horse can be terrifying. But Oscar is a brave boy and he will manage fine.”

“Yes, Edward. You’ve said that quite a few times already. I’m not afraid.”

Oscar was stepping on the groom’s hand to get a leg up on the horse. She tensed beside Edward, watching unblinkingly as Oscar climbed on the horse.

She clapped softly, clearly remembering the groomsman’s instructions not to startle the horses with sudden loud noises.

Slowly, the groom led Oscar around the paddock. Edward’s heart swelled with pride as he realized that, scared as he was, Oscar was braving the ride with aplomb. He turned to Maggie and grinned. “He’s doing quite well.”

“Yes. I pray he doesn’t fall.”

“Don’t even think it.”

She put a hand on her belly, wincing slightly. Immediately Edward leaned in. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, just a little spasm.”

Edward stood up immediately. “Shall I fetch the midwife?”

She hesitated, thinking about it, which was enough for Edward to know that he needed to fetch Mrs. Grey. He thanked the lord that he’d thought to move her into the dower house for the latter part of Margaret’s pregnancy. She still managed to see her other clients, but he paid her enough that she was happy to miss out on whatever jobs she might have got if she was in her own home.

He flagged down a groom and ordered him to fetch the midwife to the library. Then he picked Maggie up and carried her back indoors, depositing her in the soft plush leather of the library sofa.

The door opened and the midwife came in. “She has some pain in her belly,” Edward said, trying to sound calm.

The midwife immediately knelt by Margaret’s side. After a bit of prodding, she turned to a pacing Edward. “I need you to fetch me some hot water, towels, and another woman. The baby’s a coming.”

Edward gasped, meeting Margaret’s eyes, who nodded at him before he was out of the room and running to the kitchens. “Mrs. Gowan!” he huffed as he skidded to a halt, “the midwife, she needs—”

Mrs. Gowan was already moving. “Never you mind, I know what she needs. The baby’s coming, eh?” She sounded very excited, which had the effect of calming him down. Someone pulled on his jacket and he turned to find Oscar looking up at him with scared eyes.

“What’s happened to Maggie?”

He squatted down so he could look the boy in the eye. “Nothing has, old man. The baby’s coming, that’s all.”

“Oh…should we not be with her?”

“Sadly, no. The men are always chased away. Come with me to my study where we shall await word.”

Oscar nodded his agreement and put out his hand for Edward to hold. They walked to the study hand in hand and sat at the table. Edward passed Oscar a book and picked one up for himself. Fidgeting occasionally, they pretended to read, their ears tuned to the comings and goings down the hall.

When someone opened the door to the library, they could hear Margaret’s screams. Oscar winced every time, covering his ears. “She’ll be alright, won’t she?”

“I think it’s when she stops screaming that we should worry.”

Oscar swallowed, but nodded his understanding. Someone brought them a tray of food and then, later, some tea. They mostly sat untouched on the table between them, although Edward tried to persuade Oscar to eat.

It was an interminable time later before they heard new, high-pitched cries, accompanied by exclamations of joy. Edward shot to his feet. “I think the baby’s here.”

Oscar scrambled out of his seat as well and they ventured out of the study and walked down the hall to the library. Several women were crowding the doorway, peering inside. Edward cleared his throat loudly. They turned, making room for him to pass, and he walked slowly into the room.

Margaret was propped up on a bunch of pillows, a bundle in her arms. Edward bent down to peer into the blankets. Margaret looked up at him, her face lined with tired happiness. “It’s a boy, Edward. We have a little boy.”

Edward kissed her forehead, smoothing back her sweat-soaked hair. “How are you doing?”

She shrugged, one-shouldered. “I’m fine.”

He continued to caress her hair before kissing her forehead. She looked up at him and smiled. “Do you want to hold him?”

He looked down at the bundle, swaddled in so many clothes he could barely see the baby. “What if I drop him?”

“You won’t.” Unceremoniously, she deposited the baby in his lap so he had no choice but to hold onto him. The baby squirmed in his arms, making small complaining noises. Edward prayed that it wasn’t because he was hurting the child.

“What will we call him?” Margaret asked.

Edward shook his head. “I do not know. Do you have a preference?”

“Don’t you have a tradition on naming? Perhaps after your father?”

“No, we don’t really. Would you like him named after your father?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I would like to give him a completely new name. A new beginning so to speak.”

“Do you have a name in mind?”

“Yes. I do. I’d like to call him Michael, after the archangel. Michael Ainsworth Gillet.”

“I like it.” He nodded. “I like it a lot.”

Margaret smiled at him. “Good.”

He could feel his heart soften and warm as he looked at her, his hand reaching out for hers and placing it atop his heart.

“Yours. Always,” he whispered.

Her smile widened. Then she turned her hand in his, bringing it to her bosom. “Yours. Always.”

He leaned in, careful of the baby in his lap, and pressed his lips to hers in a seal, and a promise.

Forever.

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