Updated Apr 18, 2026 • ~12 min read
Chapter 29: The Aftermath & Announcement
Emmeline
Emmy wakes on a grey February morning feeling violently ill for the third day in a row, and when she barely makes it to the basin before losing what little she managed to eat for breakfast she knows with absolute certainty what’s causing her illness—she’s pregnant, carrying the Duke’s child, exactly what they’ve been trying for since Christmas Day two months ago.
The awareness fills her with equal parts joy and terror because while she desperately wants this child, she’s also acutely aware of how the Duke’s first attempt at fatherhood ended, and she has no idea how he’ll react to news that she’s pregnant when his last wife died giving birth.
She’s still contemplating how to tell him when the Duke himself appears in the doorway of their chambers looking concerned, clearly having heard her being sick.
“Are you ill?” the Duke asks, moving to Emmy’s side with visible worry. “Should I send for Dr. Pembroke?”
“I’m not ill,” Emmy manages to say once she’s certain she’s finished being sick. “At least not in the way you mean.”
The Duke stares at her for a long moment, and Emmy watches understanding dawn in his ice-blue eyes as he processes what kind of “not ill” would cause morning sickness.
“You’re pregnant,” the Duke says, and Emmy can’t read his tone—it might be joy or terror or both.
“I think so,” Emmy confirms. “It’s too early to be certain, but the signs are there. Morning sickness for several days. Exhaustion. Certain foods making me nauseous. Everything that suggests early pregnancy.”
The Duke is completely still—frozen in a way Emmy hasn’t seen from him in months—and she watches him struggle visibly with how to respond to news he’s been hoping for and terrified of in equal measure.
“We should confirm it,” the Duke says finally, his voice carefully controlled in ways that suggest he’s barely holding himself together. “Dr. Pembroke can examine you. Verify whether you’re actually pregnant before we—before we react.”
“Sebastian,” Emmy says gently, taking his hand. “Are you all right? You look terrified.”
“I am terrified,” the Duke admits, his composure cracking. “I’m overjoyed and terrified and overwhelmed and I don’t know how to process that you might be carrying our child when the last time I was in this situation my wife and son both died.”
Emmy pulls the Duke into her arms and holds him while he shakes with emotion he’s clearly trying to contain, and she understands suddenly that confirming the pregnancy will trigger every trauma the Duke has been managing for six years.
“We’ll be careful,” Emmy promises. “Dr. Pembroke will monitor everything. We’ll take every precaution. This doesn’t have to end like Caroline’s pregnancy did.”
“You can’t promise that,” the Duke argues, pulling back to look at Emmy with eyes that are desperate and terrified. “You can’t guarantee you’ll survive childbirth. Women die. Caroline died. You could die too.”
“I could,” Emmy agrees honestly. “But I probably won’t. Most women survive childbirth, Sebastian. Caroline’s death was tragic but it wasn’t inevitable. Treating my pregnancy like it’s guaranteed to end in tragedy dishonors both of us.”
The Duke is quiet for a long moment, clearly struggling to accept this logic despite knowing intellectually that Emmy is right.
“Send for Dr. Pembroke,” the Duke says finally. “Confirm whether you’re pregnant. Then we’ll decide how to proceed.”
Dr. Pembroke arrives within hours—the Duke apparently sent an urgent summons that had the physician rushing to Ashford Hall with clear concern—and when he examines Emmy his expression shifts from worry to cautious pleasure.
“Your Grace is indeed pregnant,” Dr. Pembroke confirms while Emmy and the Duke sit together in tense silence. “Early stages—perhaps six to eight weeks based on symptoms. But definitely carrying a child.”
Emmy watches the Duke’s face carefully, trying to gauge his reaction, and she sees multiple emotions flash across his expression—joy and terror and desperate hope and overwhelming fear all tangled together.
“Is she healthy?” the Duke asks Dr. Pembroke with barely controlled anxiety. “Is the pregnancy progressing normally? Are there any concerns?”
“Her Grace appears perfectly healthy,” Dr. Pembroke assures him. “Strong constitution, no concerning symptoms beyond typical morning sickness, excellent prospects for safe pregnancy and delivery. I see no reason to anticipate difficulties, Your Grace.”
“That’s what you said about Caroline,” the Duke argues, his voice going sharp. “You said she’d be fine. And then she died.”
“The Duchess Caroline had concerning symptoms from the beginning,” Dr. Pembroke corrects gently. “Weakness, frequent illness, troubling signs that suggested potential complications. Her Grace Emmy shows none of those symptoms. She’s fundamentally healthier than the late Duchess was. Comparing their pregnancies isn’t accurate.”
The Duke looks slightly reassured by this explanation, and Emmy sees him trying to accept that her pregnancy doesn’t have to mirror Caroline’s just because both are carrying his child.
“What precautions should we take?” Emmy asks practically. “What can we do to ensure safe outcome?”
“Rest when you’re tired,” Dr. Pembroke advises. “Eat well despite the morning sickness. Avoid excessive exertion. I’ll examine you monthly to monitor progress. But Your Grace, I genuinely believe you’ll have straightforward pregnancy. You’re young, healthy, and showing every sign of carrying this child well.”
After Dr. Pembroke leaves, Emmy and the Duke sit together in their private sitting room processing the confirmed news that they’re going to be parents, and Emmy watches the Duke cycle through emotions too quickly to track.
“Talk to me,” Emmy requests. “Tell me what you’re feeling instead of just sitting there clearly panicking.”
“I’m terrified you’ll die,” the Duke admits bluntly. “That’s the predominant emotion. Terror that we’ve created a situation that will kill you. That nine months from now I’ll be standing in this room having lost another wife to childbirth. That history will repeat itself despite all our precautions.”
“That’s understandable,” Emmy acknowledges. “Given what happened with Caroline. But Sebastian, you can’t spend the entire pregnancy convinced I’m going to die. That’s not fair to either of us. We need to find a way for you to be hopeful instead of just terrified.”
“How?” the Duke challenges. “How do I be hopeful when the last time I was hopeful about pregnancy my wife died?”
“By trusting that I’m different from Caroline,” Emmy suggests. “By believing Dr. Pembroke when he says my pregnancy is progressing well. By choosing hope over fear the same way you’ve been doing for months now. You chose hope when you decided to try for a child. Don’t abandon that hope just because we succeeded.”
The Duke is quiet for a long moment, clearly struggling to accept Emmy’s logic, and when he finally speaks his voice is rough with emotion.
“I’m also happy,” the Duke admits. “Beneath the terror. Genuinely happy that we’re having a child together. That I might get to be a father to someone who actually gets to live. That our family is growing. But the terror is so loud it’s drowning out the happiness.”
“Then let me be happy enough for both of us,” Emmy suggests. “You can be terrified. I’ll be hopeful. Together maybe we balance out to cautiously optimistic.”
The Duke manages a weak smile at that, and Emmy sees some of his visible tension ease as he accepts that he doesn’t have to immediately overcome his fear, just manage it alongside Emmy’s hope.
“I love you,” the Duke says. “And I’m terrified of losing you. Both those things can be true simultaneously.”
“Both those things ARE true,” Emmy agrees. “And they’ll stay true throughout this pregnancy. You’ll be terrified and I’ll be hopeful and we’ll navigate it together however we can.”
The Duke pulls Emmy close and holds her with desperate intensity, and Emmy can feel him shaking with emotion he’s trying to contain.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” the Duke says against Emmy’s hair. “Promise me you’ll rest when tired, eat when you should, tell me immediately if anything feels wrong. Promise me you’ll take this seriously instead of just assuming everything will be fine.”
“I promise,” Emmy agrees. “I’ll be as careful as possible. I’ll do everything Dr. Pembroke recommends. I’ll monitor my health obsessively. I want this child, Sebastian. I want to survive pregnancy to raise them. I’m not being reckless.”
“Good,” the Duke says with relief. “That’s all I’m asking. Just be careful. Take this seriously. Don’t make me lose you.”
They spend the rest of the day quietly together—the Duke canceling all his appointments to stay with Emmy, both of them processing the enormous reality that their family is growing, both of them terrified and hopeful in different proportions—and by evening Emmy is exhausted from emotional intensity and ready to sleep.
“I’m going to take care of you,” the Duke promises while Emmy is preparing for bed. “Throughout this entire pregnancy. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. You won’t face this alone.”
“I know,” Emmy responds with complete certainty. “I believe you. I trust you. We’ll do this together.”
That night Emmy falls asleep with the Duke’s hand resting protectively on her still-flat stomach, and she knows that whatever comes—however difficult the pregnancy, however terrified the Duke remains, however many challenges await—they’ll face it together as partners instead of her bearing the weight alone.
The weeks following the pregnancy confirmation are challenging—the Duke oscillating between joy and terror, Emmy dealing with escalating morning sickness while trying to manage her husband’s anxiety, both of them navigating the reality of pregnancy after so much fear around conception—but slowly, gradually, the Duke’s terror eases enough to allow room for actual happiness.
When Emmy starts showing at three months, the Duke’s visible awe at seeing physical evidence of their child outweighs his fear for the first time since they confirmed the pregnancy.
“That’s our baby,” the Duke says with wonder, his hand resting on Emmy’s slightly rounded stomach. “Actually growing. Actually real instead of just theoretical.”
“Actually exhausting,” Emmy adds with slight humor. “This baby is demanding constant food and frequent naps and making me cry at the smallest provocation.”
“I like seeing you cry,” the Duke teases gently. “It means you’re experiencing emotions you usually hide behind stubborn patience.”
By four months, the Duke has progressed from constantly terrified to cautiously optimistic, and when Emmy feels the baby move for the first time his reaction is pure joy instead of fear.
“Did you feel that?” Emmy asks when the baby kicks during dinner. “The baby moved.”
The Duke’s hand is on Emmy’s stomach immediately, waiting for another kick, and when the baby obliges with clear movement his expression shifts to something Emmy has never seen before—pure unguarded joy without any fear tempering it.
“That’s amazing,” the Duke breathes. “Our child. Actually moving. Actually alive and growing and real.”
“Real,” Emmy confirms. “Very real. And apparently very active based on how much this baby is moving around.”
They decide to announce the pregnancy to friends and family once Emmy reaches five months and the pregnancy is clearly viable, and Lady Margaret’s reaction is pure delight mixed with clear relief that her brother is finally moving forward instead of staying frozen in grief.
“I’m going to be an aunt,” Lady Margaret says with obvious joy. “Finally. After six years of worrying you’d never recover enough to try again. This is wonderful, Sebastian. Truly wonderful.”
“It’s terrifying,” the Duke admits. “But also wonderful. Both things simultaneously.”
“That’s parenthood,” Lady Margaret observes wisely. “Terror and wonder tangled together. You’ll do brilliantly.”
The pregnancy continues progressing smoothly—Emmy healthy despite exhaustion and various discomforts, the baby growing perfectly according to Dr. Pembroke’s monthly examinations, the Duke gradually learning to be more hopeful than terrified—and by seven months Emmy is enormous and uncomfortable and ready for pregnancy to be over.
“I can’t believe we have two more months of this,” Emmy complains while trying to find comfortable position in bed. “I’m already so tired of being pregnant.”
“You’re magnificent,” the Duke argues. “Absolutely magnificent. Carrying our child. Growing our family. Being impossibly brave despite knowing how terrified I am.”
“I’m not brave,” Emmy protests. “I’m just… doing what needs to be done. What we chose together.”
“That’s bravery,” the Duke insists. “Choosing hope despite fear. That’s what you’ve been teaching me for nearly two years. And now you’re demonstrating it by carrying our child when you know how much I’m terrified of losing you.”
At eight months, they start preparing the nursery—the same nursery where Thomas was supposed to sleep, now being transformed with fresh decorations and new furniture while honoring that Thomas was meant to use this space—and Emmy watches the Duke carefully for signs that being in the room triggers too much trauma.
But the Duke seems… not happy exactly, but at peace. Like he’s finally made peace with the past enough to use these spaces for new happiness instead of keeping them frozen as shrine to loss.
“Thomas would have used this cradle,” the Duke observes while arranging the antique cradle that’s been in his family for generations. “But he never got the chance. Now our child will use it. That feels right. Like honoring Thomas while still moving forward.”
“It is right,” Emmy agrees. “Perfect balance between past and future. Exactly what we’ve been building.”
At nine months, Emmy is miserable and huge and ready to have this baby immediately, and when early labor pains start on a grey December afternoon—two weeks before Christmas, almost two years exactly since their desperate arrangement began—Emmy knows with certainty that she’s about to give the Duke either his greatest joy or his worst fear made real.
And all they can do is face it together.
With hope.
And terror.
And love that’s strong enough to survive whatever comes.
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