Laura Martin - A Ring For The Pregnant Debutante

‘I suppose everyone needs a rest now and again.’

‘You’re being flippant again,’ Rosa challenged him.

‘Sorry. I suppose I don’t know. For a while I grew tired of new places, not knowing anyone, never being sure of where I would rest my head from one day to the next.’

‘So will you stay here, in Italy?’

Thomas smiled and shook his head. ‘That’s question number four, Miss Rothwell. You’ve had your turn, now it’s mine.’

Rosa stiffened as if actually nervous about what he would ask, but nodded for him to continue.

‘How many months pregnant are you?’ He hadn’t meant to be quite so blunt and as the shock and hurt flashed across her eyes he cursed his clumsy handling of the question.

‘What makes you think I’m pregnant?’

‘Look how you’re sitting,’ Thomas said softly.

Rosa glanced down and grimaced as she realised one hand rested protectively against her lower abdomen.

‘I suppose it’s natural, a mother’s instinct,’ Thomas said. ‘You’ve had a hand on your abdomen throughout most of the morning, and every so often you will look down fondly when you think I’m not paying attention.’

She nodded, mutely. They continued in silence for nearly ten minutes before Rosa spoke again.

‘Four months, nearly to the day.’

Thomas did a few quick sums in his head, and realised things didn’t quite add up.

‘And that was why you were sent away in disgrace? You must have known pretty early on that you were pregnant.’

It wasn’t a subject Thomas was well schooled in, but he did have a vague idea that most women weren’t sure until they were about three or four months along in their pregnancy.

‘I knew as soon as I missed my courses, by that time I was only about a month gone. I spoke to the father a week later, confessed to my mother the same evening and the next day I was packed off to Italy.’

That explained the timings a little more.

‘What if you were wrong?’

Rosa shrugged. ‘I suppose my mother thought it easier to recall me if it turned out I wasn’t pregnant than to explain an ever-growing bump.’

Thomas detected a note of bitterness alongside the sadness and wondered if the relationship between mother and daughter was a little strained.

‘It took five weeks by boat, a couple more overland, and then the Di Mercurios kept me locked away for a month. That makes four months.’ She said it in a matter-of-fact voice that belied the pain on her face.

‘What about the father?’ Thomas asked, wondering if that was who she was running home to.

Rosa gave a bitter, short bark of a laugh and shook her head instead of answering.

‘What do you plan to do, Rosa?’ he asked, aware that this game of theirs had become very serious very quickly.

‘Stop the horses,’ Rosa said sharply.

Thomas glanced at her in puzzlement.

‘Stop. The. Horses.’

He pulled on the reins, slowing the horses down to a gentle walk before coming to a complete stop. As soon as the curricle had stopped moving Rosa slid down, grabbed her cane and began to limp away. Thomas frowned, wondering exactly what it was about his question that had caused so much offence.

‘Rosa,’ he called, jumping down after her and jogging to catch up.

‘Leave me alone.’

Thomas realised she was crying and slowed as he approached her.

‘I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you.’

She shook her head, turning her back to him.

He stood undecided for a moment, unsure whether to step back and give her space or take her into his arms and comfort her.

‘Shh...’ he whispered as he wrapped her in his arms and gently pulled her head to rest on his shoulder.

He felt the sobs rack her body, her shoulders heaving as the tears ran down her cheeks and soaked through his shirt.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.

Thomas didn’t reply, instead tightening his hold on her, running a hand over her raven-black hair and murmuring soothing noises.

‘Come back to the curricle,’ he said as her sobs died down.

‘I don’t know—’ she started to say, but Thomas interrupted her with a shake of his head.

‘I’m not a man who is used to having his requests refused,’ he said in an overly serious tone and felt supremely satisfied when Rosa broke into a smile. It was small and uncertain, but a smile all the same.

Giving her his arm to lean upon, Thomas led her back, placed his arms around her waist and lifted her easily back into the seat.

‘No running off whilst I climb up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Rosa said as he took his place beside her. ‘I never cry.’

‘Half a day in my company and already you’re breaking habits of a lifetime.’

‘It’s just so frustrating, so completely unfair. Every person who has found out about my predicament has expected me to give my child up. To be thankful for the suggestion that a nice family could raise my baby and no one will ever know.’

The thought had crossed his mind, and although that hadn’t been the question he’d asked, it had been the answer he’d been expecting.

‘So what are you going to do?’

Rosa took a deep breath, raised her chin and straightened her back. ‘I will raise my child myself.’

It was an admirable idea, but not an easy one to fulfil.

As soon as the words had passed her lips Rosa deflated again, her chin dropping closer to her chest and her eyes focused on the ground beneath them as if searching for answers there.

Thomas thought of all the arguments against her plans, thought of all the struggles she would face raising a child alone. It wasn’t so much her practical ability to care for and love a child he doubted, or the fact that she would be raising it without a father—many women raised large families after they were widowed. No, the struggle for Rosa would be how she would be shunned and hounded from society. Right now she might not think she cared about other ladies gossiping and pointing, snubbing her in the street and not inviting her to any of the social events of the year, but Thomas knew too well how lonely solitude could be. It would be a miserable existence.

‘I know,’ Rosa said softly. ‘You don’t have to tell me how difficult it will be. I will be an outcast, even my child might be an outcast, but I believe that love can make up for all of that. And I will love this baby much more than any family paid to take him or her.’

He nodded mutely. Who was he to disagree with her, his choices hadn’t exactly been well thought out or well reasoned these past few years. After his father’s and brother’s deaths he’d more or less fled the country. He’d been halfway to France before he’d even stopped and thought about his decisions. If Rosa wanted to return to England to find a way to raise her child, then he had no business judging her.

* * *

Rosa wondered if he was judging her and then realised she didn’t much care. It was true, she had thought of all the drawbacks to raising her child herself, but every single negative point was outweighed by the overwhelming love she already felt for the small life inside her.

‘Do you think you’ll ever go back?’ Rosa asked, trying to change the focus of their conversation back to Lord Hunter.

‘To England?’ For a few moments he looked off into the distance as if he were deep in thought. ‘I have a mother,’ he said eventually.

Rosa laughed, she couldn’t help herself. ‘We all have mothers.’

Hunter sighed. ‘Mine is particularly loving and understanding.’

‘How awful for you,’ Rosa murmured, thinking of her own mother’s parting words to her. They had not been kind.

‘She’s lonely, rattling round in our big old house, and she’s asked me to go home.’