Julia Quinn - Dancing At Midnight

Emma shot her an annoyed look as she gargled.

"Morning sickness is normal, you know," Belle continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "I don't think it would put Alex off if you got sick in your own room."

Emma's expression turned positively peevish as she spit the water out into the chamber pot. "I didn't come here to avoid my husband. Believe me, he's seen me sick plenty of times in the last few weeks." She sighed. "I think I threw up on his foot the other day."

Belle's cheeks pinkened in a sympathy blush for her cousin. "How awful," she murmured.

"I know, but the fact of the matter is I came in here to see if you were awake, and I just got sick along the way." Emma turned a little green and suddenly sat down.

Belle got up hurriedly and pulled on a dressing gown. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

Emma shook her head and took a deep breath, valiantly trying to keep the contents of her stomach down.

"You're not giving me a lot to look forward to about marriage," Belle quipped.

Emma smiled weakly. "It's mostly better than this."

"I certainly hope so."

"I thought I could keep down the tea and plain biscuits I ate for breakfast," Emma said with a sigh. "But I was wrong."

"It's easy to forget that you're expecting," Belle said kindly, hoping to buoy her cousin's spirits. "You're still so slender."

Emma flashed her a grateful smile. "It is very kind of you to say so. I must say, this is a new experience for me, and it is all very strange."

"Are you nervous? You haven't mentioned anything to me."

"Not nervous exactly, more-hmmm, I don't quite know how to describe it. But Alex's sister is due in three weeks, and we are planning to visit her the week after next. I hope to be there for the birth. Sophie has assured me that we are welcome. I am sure I won't feel so nervous once I know what is expected of me," Emma's voice was laced with more hope than certainty.

Belle's experience with birth was limited to a litter of puppies she had seen her brother deliver when she was twelve, but nonetheless, she was not at all certain that Emma would feel more at ease about the procedure after witnessing Sophie having her baby. Belle smiled weakly at her cousin, murmured something unintelligible which was meant to convey her agreement, and then shut her mouth.

After a few moments, Emma's complexion returned to its normal color, and she sighed. "There. I feel much better now. It's amazing how quickly this sickness passes. It's the only thing that makes it bearable."

A maid entered, carrying a tray with morning chocolate and rolls. She set the tray down on the bed, and the two ladies positioned themselves on either side of it.

Belle watched as Emma hesitantly took a sip of her chocolate. "Emma, could I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"And you'll be frank in your answer?"

One corner of Emma's mouth tipped up. "When have you ever known me not to be frank?"

"Am I not likeable?"

Emma managed to grab her napkin just in time to avoid spitting out her chocolate all over Belle's sheets. "Excuse me?"

"I don't think I'm not likeable. I mean, I think most people like me."

"Yes," Emma said slowly. "Most do. Everyone does. I don't think I've ever met anyone who didn't like you."

"Just so," Belle agreed. "There are probably a few who don't care about my existence one way or another, but I think it's rather rare for someone to actively dislike me."

"Who dislikes you, Belle?"

"Your new neighbor. John Blackwood."

"Oh, come now. You didn't speak with him for longer than five minutes, did you?"

"No, but-"

"Then he couldn't have taken you into dislike that quickly."

"I don't know. I rather think he did."

"I'm sure you're mistaken."

Belle shook her head, a perplexed expression on her face. "I don't think so."

"Would it be so terrible if he didn't like you?"

"I just don't like the idea of someone not liking me. Does that make me terribly selfish?"

"No, but-"

"I'm generally considered to be a nice person."

"Yes, you are, but-"

Belle squared her shoulders. "This is unacceptable."

Emma choked back laughter. "What do you plan to do?"

"I suppose I have to make him like me."

"I say, Belle, are you interested in this man?"

"No, of course not," Belle replied, rather quickly. "I just don't understand why he finds me so repugnant."

Emma shook her head, unable to believe this rather bizarre turn of conversation. "Well, you'll be able to work your wiles on him soon. With all of the men in London who have fallen in love with you without the least bit of provocation on your part, I can't imagine you won't find success in getting this Blackwood fellow to fall in like with you." "Hmmm," Belle murmured. She looked up. "When did you say he's coming to dinner?"

Lord Blackwood may not have been born a lord, but he did come from an aristocratic, albeit impoverished, family. But John had the misfortune or being the seventh of seven children, a position which almost guaranteed that none of life's favors would come his way. His parents, the seventh Earl and Countess of Westborough, certainly hadn't intended to neglect their youngest child, but there were, after all, five ahead of him.

Damien was the eldest, and as the heir, he was cosseted and given every advantage that his parents could afford. A year later, Sebastian came along, and since he was so close to Damien in age, he was able to share in most of the perks that come with being the heir to an earldom. The earl and countess were nothing if not pragmatic, and given the childhood mortality rate, they were aware that Sebastian had quite a good chance of becoming the eighth Earl of Westborough. Soon after, Julianna, Christina, and Ariana arrived in rapid succession, and as it was apparent at a very young age that all three would become beauties, much attention was paid to them. Advantageous marriages could do much to fill the family coffers.

A few years later a stillborn boy arrived. No one was particularly happy about the loss, but then again, no one grieved overmuch. Five attractive and reasonably intelligent children seemed an abundance of riches, and truth be told, another baby would have been simply another mouth to feed. The Blackwoods may have been living in a magnificent old house, but it was a trial each month just to pay the bills. And it certainly never occurred to the earl to try to earn a living.

But then tragedy struck, and the earl was killed when his carriage overturned in a rainstorm. At the tender age of ten, Damien found himself with a title. The family scarcely had time to mourn when much to everyone's surprise, Lady Westbor-ough discovered that she was once again with child. And in the spring of 1787, she produced one last baby. The effort was exhausting, and she never quite regained her strength. And so, tired and irritable, not to mention more than a little worried about the family finances, she took one look at her seventh child, sighed, and said, "I suppose we'll just call him John. I'm too tired to think of anything better."

And after that somewhat inauspicious entry into the world, John was-for the lack of a better word-forgotten.

His family had little patience with him, and he spent far more time in the company of tutors than relations. He was sent off to Eton and Oxford, not out of any great concern for his schooling, but rather because that was what good families did for their sons, even the youngest ones who were irrelevant to dynastic lineages.

In 1808, however, when John was in his final year at Oxford, an opportunity arose. England found herself entangled in political and military affairs on the Iberian peninsula, and men of all backgrounds were rushing to join the army. John saw the military as an area where a man might make something of himself, and he presented the idea to his brother. Damien agreed, seeing it as a way to honorably get his brother off his hands, and he bought a commission for John.