“It’s not possible,” Catherine whispered.
The maid said nothing.
She did not have to.
Because it most definitely was possible.
She and the duke had been together many, many times. Many times a day for the last month. She supposed it was absolutely possible that she was with child and that it was the cause of her feeling ill.
She knew so little about it.
He’d taken precautions. She knew that. But was that enough? Apparently not.
She’d never been exposed to other women or such things. She’d had no idea…
Good God, she was a fool. How had she ever thought she’d be capable of being a courtesan if she had known so little? And he had not told her that she would have to take extra precautions.
But… he had. He’d said so. But she supposed nothing was perfect in this world. She knew that to be true already. She’d simply assumed the risk was quite small.
“Is fatigue a sign?” she asked.
The maid nodded. “Yes, my lady. As is a bit of nausea and you seem to be indicating all of the signs. You don’t honestly seem to be ill to me, for you rally at different points of the day.”
The maid gave her a small smile. “You see my mother had eight children, and I did not leave her until she’d had most of them. And you seem to be, well, I think…”
“Yes?” she asked firmly.
The maid rushed, “Well, yesterday morning you were crying.”
She nodded. “I miss my sister.”
“Yes, but you don’t usually cry, do you, my lady?” the maid pointed out.
“No,” she said honestly. “I don’t.” Realization crashed over her, and she let out a small cry of protest. “Is that a sign as well?”
“Increased emotion is most certainly a sign that you are with child,” the maid soothed. “I think we should send for a doctor.”
She gripped the bedding, feeling completely at a loss. Suddenly, any ideas she had about her future seemed completely lost. And she felt… adrift. And terrified in this state of unknowing. “Oh dear. If you think that we should, then I suppose we must, but what will His Grace say?”
The maid said nothing.
“I will have to tell him myself,” she said firmly, refusing to give into her fears. She would not be ridiculous or throw a fit. No, she would face this head-on. As she did all things. Like the great Ludlows of history. She was from the stock of warriors, and she would not shrink now.
“Send for the doctor,” she declared, even as her heart beat apace.
With that, the maid sped out of the room.
Catherine stared at the now-closed door, knowing that there was little she could do except wait for the doctor to come visit her and to tell her if she was truly ruined before she had even begun.
But would it be ruin? Would having a child be the end?
Or could it be a beginning? A terrifying, unsure beginning. But she had so little family.
She blinked, astonished by her thoughts as she already began to envision it. Being a mother, even if she was a mother alone, in a house by the sea, raising up a child on her own.
Would Garret assist her? She swallowed. Surely, he would.
But if he didn’t? She swallowed back the traitorous thought that wished to sew fear in her heart.