‘You’re about three months gone,’ he’d said without preamble.
Paige had stared at him in disbelief. ‘What?’
‘You’re pregnant. And it’s a good thing you came in to see us when you did. Without proper care, you might have lost your baby.’
He’d gone on and on, telling her the things she had to do, and she’d listened, even though a stubborn part of her had kept thinking that surely all this had nothing to do with her. How could she be pregnant? There had only been that one night with Quinn…
… that one long night, when he’d turned what she felt for him against her.
She couldn’t keep this baby. It would for ever be a reminder of what Quinn had done to her…
… that one wonderful night, when he’d made love to her until the sky was streaked with tender rose and pale gold…
A night she would never forget. Quinn had taken her to his bed in anger, but then the magic that had brought them into each other’s arms on a Connecticut beach had returned. Daylight had banished it, but that was the way magic was. It could only live with night hopes and moonlit dreams.
But the fruit of that night would be real. Their child would be a reminder of the magic that had almost been.
Paige had felt her heart fill with a fierce pride, and she’d heard herself assuring the doctor that she would do whatever had to be done to safeguard the child growing in her womb.
She needed nutritious food, he’d said. Lots of it. She was too thin. Had she been eating too many carbohydrates and not enough protein? And she mustn’t exert herself. A couple of days in bed just now might be a good idea. She was to take long naps.
The list went on and on, and Paige kept nodding in agreement. Reality hit only after she’d left the clinic. She stood on the pavement, shivering in her too-thin coat, and wondered how on earth she was going to manage. That was when she’d started walking, slowly, carefully, conscious of the life within her, until she’d found herself in the park, staring down at the dark water, her euphoria fast fading.
She shivered again and looked up. Someone was coming; she could hear the steady sound of approaching footsteps. It was a bobby, and even at a distance she could see that he was watching her. Paige sighed and lifted her elbows from the railing. It was time to move on, anyway. There was nothing to be accomplished standing here.
What she needed was money. That was what it came down to. Fruit, vegetables, milk, fish, eggs—all were far more expensive than the pasta she’d been living on. And she needed another coat: she’d bought a cheap one at an outdoor market at the start of winter, but it wasn’t heavy enough to keep her warm.
The doctor had said no exertion. Was climbing the four flights of stairs to her garret room exertion? She hadn’t thought to ask, but it seemed logical that it would be.
The street blurred suddenly, and Paige reached out to a nearby lamp post and grasped it for support. She knew, almost to the last tenpence, how much money remained in her wallet. It was barely enough to pay the rent for another couple of weeks and buy some proper groceries. There was no way she could afford any of the things she needed if she were to keep her baby.
Quinn’s baby.
Turning to him was, of course, out of the question. She knew no one else in London; she was alone. There was really no choice. She had to go home. There would be questions, but Paige knew her mother’s heart well. Janet Gardiner would kiss her and welcome her, and she would stay at her side through the months ahead.
The Fowlers. How could she have forgotten them? What would happen when they learned she was pregnant? They would notify Quinn, and then the whole sordid story would come out. He would tell them why he’d thrown her out, he would tell them of her theft and her father’s theft. He might even refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of the child she carried. The scandal would be unbearable in a town like Greenwich.
Her hand went to her breast and she felt for the ring.
‘You could always sell that for a lot of money, luv.’
She drew in a deep breath and walked quickly towards the Underground.
She chose Bond Street by name and reputation. Surely there were shops there that bought and sold fine jewellery? She bypassed the first few, intimidated by their quiet elegance. But finally, on a narrow side street, Paige squared her shoulders and pushed open the door of a small shop. She stood still, savouring the most welcome warmth.
‘Yes, ma’am? May I help you?’
The proprietor was elderly. He shuffled towards her from the back room, smiling politely, even when he was close enough to see that she was hardly dressed the way she was sure most of his clients did.
Paige nodded. ‘I hope so,’ she said nervously. Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned her coat and the heavy sweater beneath, then reached to the nape of her neck. ‘I… I want to sell something…’
The old man smiled politely. ‘I’m afraid we don’t buy jewellery, my dear.’
Paige’s head rose. ‘But your sign says…’
He nodded. ‘We buy estate pieces. Heirlooms, antiques, things that have a special value…’
She heard the rasp of his breath as she unclasped the gold chain and drew the ruby ring from beneath her bodice.