Lord Grenville's Choice by G.G. Vandagriff Page A

did not bother to call for his carriage, but hailed a cab. It seemed an eternity before they reached his house, which was in reality only blocks away.
    Could a miscarriage at this late date endanger Felicity’s own life? Had she summoned a doctor? His heart pounded hard in his chest. At last, they arrived and he paid off the jarvey.
    Running up his steps, he threw open the door.
    “Norse!” he called, moving toward the butler’s pantry. An agitated butler met him in the hall.
    “My lord?”
    “Her ladyship? Did her ladyship come home?”
    “No, my lord. She is not here.”
    Cursing, Alex flew across the foyer and out the vestibule. The cab had moved on. Circling the house, he went into the dark mews and straight to Orpheus’s stall. Not bothering
    with a saddle, he managed to bridle his horse in the dark, mounted, and guided the stallion out into the dark streets. At a canter, he made his way to Grosvenor Square in the dim light of the street lamps. He clenched his jaw at the continuous vision of Felicity bleeding or in pain.
    When he reached his father-in-law’s house, he leapt up the steps and tried to open the door. It was locked for the night. Sounding the knocker, he waited with his last ounce of patience for the door to be answered.
    To his surprise, it was Nanny Owen who stood there.
    “Nanny? Her ladyship? Is she ill? Is she losing the baby?”
    “Losing the baby? Whatever are you talking about?”
    He stared at the woman. “Has she not told you she is increasing? Where is she? I must speak to her!” Alex tried to brush past the woman.
    “Calm yourself, Lord Grenville. She sent me down to intercept you, should you come. She has retired. She does not wish to see you tonight.”
    Puzzled, he tried to make sense of her words. “Retired? She must be ill. Let me pass.” The short, stout woman was no match for him. He galloped up the two flights of stairs and began opening doors, knowing not which one was Felicity’s bedchamber.
    Finally, he found her in a room lit only by the fire in the grate. She was curled in a ball under what seemed to be a pile of quilts. Upon hearing the door open, she sat up in one abrupt motion.
    “Felicity? Is it the baby? Are you going to lose it? Where is the doctor?”
    “The baby?” she asked.
    Coming into the room, he knelt by her bedside and took her hands. They were cold, despite the quilts and the fire. Her face looked pale in the firelight.
    His wife pulled her hands away. “The baby is quite well, I believe. Not in any danger.”
    Relief descended on him in a wave. For a moment, he could not say anything. He got to his feet and paced off the anxiety of the last hour. As it faded, confusion grew. “Was someone unkind to you? Is that why you left in such a hurry? Without telling me?”
    For a moment, she did not answer. He heard her take a deep breath. “Although I think the baby is quite well, I was not. It was very close in the ballroom. I felt faint and did not wish to make a scene. I went outside to get a breath of air.” She paused, and he sensed that she was fighting some sort of inner battle. That she was not telling the truth. “Once I felt more myself, I decided to come home. I suddenly was not easy in my mind about Papa.”
    He frowned, wondering what had actually taken place. One thing was certain—all the joy they had experienced together earlier in the evening had vanished. “Why did you leave alone? Did you not think we would be concerned about you?”
    “It did not occur to me. I am sorry if I gave you a fright. I am, after all, used to going about on my own.”
    “Well, you gave me a devilish scare!”
    “I am sorry. It never occurred to me you would worry about me.”
    Alex felt cold. Walking to the fire, he stood before it, his hands clasped behind his back. “How did you find your father?” he asked.
    “He was sleeping. Nurse was able to feed him more jellied broth, however. She said he had been asking for me before he went to