Free The Brigadier's Runaway Bride (Dukes of War Book 5) by Erica Ridley Page B

startled gaze toward Oliver, who laughed as though he’d been waiting for this joke the entire time.
    “Yes, I’m afraid she’s American.” Oliver slid a possessive arm about his wife’s waist and kissed her temple. “But I love her anyway.”
    Lady Carlisle slapped him in the chest, but blushed becomingly.
    Her mother flashed Edmund a rueful smile. “For better or worse, I’m from right here in London. Although you can perhaps tell by my accent that my heritage is not as lofty as you’re used to.”
    Edmund was suddenly grateful for the table. He was going to need to sit down after all. Oliver’s story must be as astonishing as Edmund’s own.
    He waited until the ladies had retaken their seats before claiming his own. “What have I missed? Tell me everything.”
    A footman hurried forward to fill Edmund’s plate with food.
    “My father passed,” Oliver began, “leaving me the title and more bills than the estate was worth.”
    “He needed an heiress,” Lady Carlisle explained with a smile.
    “Ah.” Edmund nodded.
    Lady Carlisle’s smile widened. “I was not one.”
    Edmund’s fork paused.
    Mrs. Halton tilted her head toward her daughter. “I was in Pennsylvania at the time.”
    “Dying of consumption,” Lady Carlisle clarified. “She needed emergency care if she was to survive, but we had no money.”
    “But my parents did.” Mrs. Halton’s cheeks flushed. “So I sent Grace to London in the hopes they’d offer her a dowry.”
    Lady Carlisle kissed her husband’s cheek. “Before we were even married, Oliver sent a pirate to fetch my mother.”
    Edmund’s fork clattered onto his plate. “Sent a what?”
    “Blackheart,” Mrs. Halton said dreamily.
    Lady Carlisle’s head spun around. “ Mama. ”
    “Er, he was dreadful. Horrid.” Mrs. Halton waved a slender hand in disdain. “Too much muscle and swagger for my tastes. A brute, really. So arrogant and strong…”
    Lady Carlisle dropped her face into her hands, then glared at her husband. “This is your fault, you know. If Mama runs off with a pirate…”
    “I would never run anywhere,” Mrs. Halton protested.
    “You ran to America when you were seventeen years old!”
    “Well, it would have to be quite a pirate to tempt me away from all this. I have a family again.” Mrs. Halton touched her daughter’s cheek. “I have you again, Grace. I have no urge to go anywhere.”
    Oliver leaned forward to pin his gaze on Edmund. “What about you? It’s good to see you, but… shouldn’t you be with Sarah? I can’t imagine you would leave her side if she were feeling unwell.”
    Edmund’s chest tightened. “I would never leave her. Sarah left me.”

Chapter 9

    Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes as her nightrail-covered knee rammed into yet another block of antique furniture. Blast .
    The problem wasn’t disorientation from having slept in someone else’s townhouse for a few nights. A low fire crackled behind the grate and bathed Sarah’s bedchamber with a soft, warm glow.  
    The problem was Sarah’s complete inability to walk in a straight line.
    Somewhere around month six or seven, her ability to stroll had devolved into an unbecoming waddle. By month eight, she frequently found herself veering off into unexpected angles. Over the past week— ouch! Deuce it, why was there so much bloody furniture?—she had become so huge and ungainly that every time she took a step, she crashed into something.
    The snow falling outside was beautiful and relaxing, or at least it would be if Sarah were capable of sleep. The baby kicked her at all hours of the day and night, and at least half of those well-placed kicks resulted in the immediate need to use a chamber pot. She had even begun dreaming about stomach pain, but the last several times she’d woken, her bladder had been empty.
    Sarah washed her hands in the expensive porcelain basin on her bedside table without managing to upend either item, and decided to slip down to the kitchen in