The Earl's Pregnant Bride

So they said nothing as Brooke cried, “You horrid, cruel little beast!”

Geoffrey turned his head away and mumbled in obvious misery, “Sorry, Mum....”

“Sorry? Sorry!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and glared at him furiously. “Don’t you ever, ever—”

“Brooke.” Rafe did cut in then. “He’s back. He knows he did wrong. Could you dial it down a notch?”

Brooke gasped, released Geoffrey and surged to her feet. She shot her brother a venomous look—a look that seemed to bounce off his huge shoulder and end up aimed straight at Genny. “You...” She let out a hard, ragged breath full of pure venom. Her blue eyes shone with righteous fury. “Rory told us you took off for the castle without telling a soul.”

“Well, but you just said it yourself, Brooke. I did tell Rory,” Genny reminded her hopefully.

Brooke sniffed, all wounded nobility now. “The point is you should have told me. I’m his mother after all. I’m the one who has the right to know every bit of new information first in a terrifying situation such as this. But you didn’t tell me, did you, Your Highness? You didn’t say a word to me. You just ran off to save him, to have all the glory for yourself.”

Rafe said warningly, “Brooke...”

Genny silenced him with a touch of her hand on his big, hard arm. “I apologize. I’m sorry you weren’t informed.” She spoke gently, hoping to diffuse the coming tirade before it really got going.

But that only brought another outraged gasp from Brooke. “Oh, please. You’re not the least sorry and we both know that.” Right then, Eloise and the housekeeper came in from the hallway behind Brooke. Brooke never turned, never even paused for breath. “I know you, Genevra, so sweet and sincere. So very kind to everyone.”

Geoffrey tugged on her robe. “Mum, don’t...”

She ignored him and went right on while everyone watched, struck speechless, like witnesses to a horrible accident. “They all adore you, don’t they? You are just the sweetest thing. And yet somehow you never fail to find a way to make yourself the center of attention.”

“Enough!” Rafe roared.

And Geoffrey fisted his small hands hard at his sides and shouted, “Stop it, Mum, you stop it! You leave Aunt Genny alone!” And then he whirled on his heel and fled up the stairs.

Brooke let out a cry. “Geoffrey! Oh, darling...” The waterworks started in again as she lifted the long hem of her robe and took off after him.

That left the rest of them standing in the entrance hall staring at each other. Genny felt awful, as though she’d been somehow at fault for Brooke’s tantrum. Worse than that, she worried for Geoffrey. What a nightmare.

Rafe reached out and drew her into his side. She went willingly, their troubles of the night before forgotten in that moment. He was so huge and warm and strong and just his touch made her feel better about everything.

Eloise shook her head. “So much drama, and it’s not even noon yet.” She went straight to Genny. “My dearest girl. Are you all right?” Genny pressed her lips together and gave a quick nod, to which Eloise whispered, “But of course you are.”

The others—Genny’s mother and father and Rory, too—appeared from the hallway then. They all three looked a little bewildered. No doubt they’d heard the shouting.

Eloise said. “Frances, do make sure that everyone has eaten.” She turned for the stairs. “I’ll just go and assure myself that things have settled down....”

* * *

They all went to the Morning Room. Genny and Rafe had breakfast. The others poured fresh cups of coffee. They visited, chatting about everyday things, everyone determined to put a better face on the day.

Eloise joined them. She said that Brooke would ride along with Geoffrey back to London. “And how about we all go out to the lake later?” Everyone agreed that the weather was beautiful and a day at the lake would be lovely. “We’ll have a picnic.”

“I’ll get a few more candid shots,” said Rory.

Adrienne nodded. “It’s an excellent idea.”

Brooke and Geoffrey appeared a few minutes later. Brooke was fully dressed, her makeup perfect, her manner subdued. Geoffrey’s hair was wet and slicked down. He wore his school uniform.

Eloise said, “Come along, you two. Eat before you go.”

So they filled plates from the buffet and joined the group. It wasn’t too bad. They all did their best to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It worked, more or less.

Brooke ate hardly anything. When she slipped her napkin in beside her plate, she turned a somber face to Genny. “Genevra, I wonder if I might have a word with you.”

Rafe started to say something, but Genny beat him to it. “Of course.” She pushed her chair back and followed Rafe’s sister out to the terrace garden.

They found a bench by one of the fountains. Brooke sat on one end, Genny on the other, with plenty of space between them.

There was a long, bleak silence.

Finally, Brooke said, “I’m sorry, all right? I’m a hopeless bitch. Everyone knows it. I’ve embarrassed myself and my family in front of Princess Adrienne and your father. I don’t know what gets into me.”

Genny tried to decide how to respond. Best to patch things up.

But anger, like a burning pulse, beat beneath her skin—for Geoffrey, for all that the woman at the other end of the bench insisted on putting him through. She tried to remind herself that Geoffrey was doing fine overall, that Brooke did love her son, she just didn’t really know how to love. Brooke inevitably managed to make everything that happened all about her.

Genny understood that Brooke felt left out of her own family. Edward had been the old earl’s favorite. Their mother had adored Rafe. Brooke had never been anyone’s special darling.

And then Genny had come along. From the age of five, Genny had been the princess of Hartmore. The earl had pampered her. Brooke’s mother had lavished affection on her and Eloise had welcomed her with open arms. Brooke remained nobody’s favorite—only from then on, she had Genny to blame.

Plus, there was the Geoffrey situation. Genny would have been wiser not to pay so much attention to him, not to love him so completely. But how could she help it? He was sweet and smart and funny. Genny’s heart had been his from the first time she saw him, the summer he was three, when Brooke had divorced her American husband and brought Geoffrey home to Hartmore.

“Nothing to say to me?” Brooke muttered, growing surly again.

Genny turned and faced the other woman squarely. “I accept your apology.”

Brooke stared back at her, defiant. She made a scoffing sound. “As if I believe you.”

Genny had a very powerful urge to scream. “What do you want from me, Brooke?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Everything you took from me?”

A sudden wave of nausea rolled through her. The baby didn’t like all this tension. She stood. “I know you resent me. I even understand why. But in reality, I didn’t take your place, and we both know it. That you feel somehow...left out, well, Brooke, that’s your feeling. You would be dealing with the same emotional issues whether I was here or not.”

Brooke sighed. For once, it wasn’t a dramatic sigh. She let her shoulders slump. “I promised Granny I would make things up with you. And I promised Geoffrey, too. Somehow, we have to learn to get on together.”

Genny put her hand against her belly and took a slow breath. “Fair enough. Let’s call a truce. Put some real effort into getting along with me. I’ll do the same. We’ll muddle through somehow.”

Brooke regarded her, narrow eyed, her head tipped to the side, her dark hair tumbling along her arm like a waterfall of silk. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Genny longed to deny it. She didn’t want to give Brooke the satisfaction of knowing for certain why Rafe had married her. But please. Brooke would know soon enough anyway. “Yes, I am.”

“Suddenly it all makes sense.”

Genny refused to rise to that bait. “Rafe and I are thrilled. So is Eloise.”