“
Becoming aware of her presence in the doorway, the men looked up. Westcliff rose from his half-seated position on the desk. “My lord,” Daisy said, “if I might have a word with you?”
Although she spoke calmly, something in her expression must have alerted him. He didn’t waste a second in coming to her. “Yes, Daisy?”
“It’s about my sister,” she whispered. “It seems her labor has started.”
She had never seen the earl look so utterly taken aback.
“It’s too early,” he said.
“Apparently the baby doesn’t think so.”
“But…this is off-schedule.” The earl seemed genuinely baffled that his child would have failed to consult the calendar before arriving.
“Not necessarily,” Daisy replied reasonably. “It’s possible the doctor misjudged the date of the baby’s birth. Ultimately it’s only a matter of guesswork.”
Westcliff scowled. “I expected far more accuracy than this! It’s nearly a month before the projected…” A new thought occurred to him, and he turned skull-white. “Is the baby premature?”
Although Daisy had entertained a few private concerns about that, she shook her head immediately. “Some women show more than others, some less. And my sister is very slender. I’m sure the baby is fine.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Lillian has had pains for the past four or five hours, and now they’re coming every ten minutes or so, which Annabelle says—”
“She’s been in labor for hours and no one told me?” Westcliff demanded in outrage.
“Well, it’s not technically labor unless the intervals between the pains are regular, and she said she didn’t want to bother you until—”
Westcliff let out a curse that startled Daisy. He turned to point a commanding but unsteady finger at Simon Hunt. “Doctor,” he barked, and took off at a dead run.
Simon Hunt appeared unsurprised by Westcliff’s primitive behavior. “Poor fellow,” he said with a slight smile, reaching over the desk to slide a pen back into its holder.
”
”