Archive of Our Own

It’s a rainy evening in mid-February when Anthony’s world changes forever.

It’s not a particularly great day leading up to that point. The weather is typical of London this time of year; cold, grey and dreary. Anthony would have been more than content to stay in bed with his wife, but he has to attend a dreadfully boring and painfully long House of Lords meeting at Westminster.

To make matters worse, when he finally arrives home to Bridgerton House he is greeted not by a kiss from his wife but her lady’s maid informing him she has gone to see Lady Mary. He is treated instead to a stack of paperwork so high that he must take dinner in his study instead of dining with his family.

Anthony is exhausted by the time he is finished, but rather than go to bed, he goes to the drawing room to await Kate’s imminent return and somehow gets roped into playing a game of cards with Gregory.

Shortly after being bested by his thirteen year-old brother - who, in Anthony’s defense, has much more  free time to practice silly games like this - the doors fling open.

Kate, a vision of beauty in her dark blue dress and hair pulled to the side in a simple braid, locks eyes with him the second she enters the room. It’s astonishing how after eight months of marriage, he can still have the wind knocked out of him each time he sees her. He has no way to prove this theory, but he swears she gets more beautiful with each passing day.

He stands quickly, his eyes lit up with joy for the first time since he kissed her goodbye this morning.

“Kate! How was your visit with-"

“Can I speak to you alone for a moment?” Kate interrupts.

Anthony frowns. “Is everything alright, darling?”

“Everything is fine, it is just-“ She turns to the younger Bridgerton, her face softening. “I’m sorry, Gregory, but I have something important to discuss with your brother. I will return him to you as soon as possible.”

“No need, it is past his bedtime anyway,” Anthony says, pointing to the door. As Gregory sighs and stands up, Anthony ruffles his hair and smiles softly. “We will schedule a rematch tomorrow. That is, if you have not found a more worthy opponent by then.”

The young boy grins as he heads up to bed, stopping to say goodnight to Kate on his way out. Kate closes the doors behind him, giving them complete privacy from any other family members that may be lurking about.

“You are sweet with him, you know,” Kate says, a far away look in her eyes.

Anthony furrows his eyebrows, taking her by the hand and leading her to sit next to him on the couch. “What troubles you, my love? Is your mama alright? Are you feeling unwell?”

Kate shakes her head quickly, still clutching his right hand and reaching out to grab his left.

“I was having dinner with Mama and Edwina, and Mama asked if we had discussed trying for a child.”

They had discussed the topic of children several times, and Violet made it no secret that she was hoping for another grandchild, but they continued to take preventative measures when making love. Throughout their travels, it was a safety concern, as they did not want to be far from home if they were to conceive. Since their return, in the flurry of adjusting to life as the heads of Bridgerton House and the start of the London season, it has not been a topic of much conversation.

“Would you like to start trying?”

“You must let me finish,” she says, squeezing his hands. “When my Mama asked if we were to start trying, I realized…I realized I haven’t bled in over a month. Almost two, in fact.”

Anthony finds himself doing the math in his head - Kate’s cycle has been like clockwork, month after month, since they have been sharing a bed, but he realizes he cannot recall her courses coming  since they were at Aubrey Hall before Christmas.

“I…I did not realize…”

“Nor did I,” she says, her eyes wide. “It has been such a busy time, but…I imagine it must have happened on New Year’s Eve.”

He thinks back to the night of the New Year’s Ball hosted by Lady Danbury. It was the first London ball they attended as man and wife, and the combination of champagne and dancing and his beautiful wife in an enchanting silver gown made Anthony feel lighter than air.

He swept her away from the dance floor and whisked her outside to the terrace just before the clock struck twelve. With the other guests preoccupied by the excitement, he rang in the year 1815 by kissing her passionately while snow fell around them. It felt like pure magic, and the spell they were under didn’t fade as they continued to kiss in the carriage, up the stairs and into their bedroom.

They did not take any precautions that night, both of them giving each other everything they had over and over again until they passed out from pure exhaustion.

“Do you mean to say-"

“I am with child, Anthony,” Kate confirms, her eyes welling with tears. “You are going to be a father.”

He stares at her for a moment, eyes wide and mouth agape, before tugging her into his arms and squeezing her tightly.

He has always known he would be a father, as it was his duty to his family to produce an heir, but he never could have imagined the joy he would feel. The love.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, kissing her hair and cheeks and every part of her within reach. “I love you. I love you.”

She pulls away, her soft palm cupping his cheek. “You are pleased?”

He can’t help but gape at her, floored by the notion that he could be anything but ecstatic about the news.

“Pleased? Kate, I - I am elated. We are having a child.”

She nods, wiping away the tears that have fallen to her cheeks. “We are having a child.”

He’s overcome with emotion, and he thinks he may combust if he doesn’t channel it into something - specifically, adoration for his wife. He stands and lifts her up in his arms, one hand supporting her back and the other below her knees.

“Anthony!” she squeals. “What are you-"

He kisses her tenderly and her arms instantly wrap around his neck. She continues to hold on tightly as he pulls away and begins to walk them toward the staircase. He holds her close to his chest, his already fierce instinct to protect her suddenly increased tenfold. It is suddenly his utmost purpose in life to keep Kate and their child free from any harm that could possibly befall them.

He lays her carefully down on the bed and undresses her before showing her his undying admiration for her in the best way he knows how. Her cries of pleasure blend with the sound of the rain still pouring down outside.

“If this is the response I get each time I tell you I am with child, I fear we will have more children than your mother,” Kate jokes afterward, the two of them laying on top of the blankets fully naked.

Anthony laughs, pulling her into his arms and feeling her warm skin against his. He runs his fingers through her hair, gently combing out any tangles that may have formed from rolling around in the sheets.

“Are you nervous?” she asks, placing her hand on his chest.

He pauses a moment before answering. “Yes and no.”

She quirks an eyebrow, requiring further explanation.

“Of course I am nervous about some things,” he says, though he lets those remain unspoken.

Truthfully, even after letting Kate into his heart and allowing himself to be vulnerable with her, he is still terrified of loss. The thought of losing a child, of losing Kate, is unfathomable, but he refuses to let himself think about that right now, when he is so blissfully content.

“But, all through my childhood, the two things I was absolutely certain of were how much my parents loved us and how much they loved each other,” he continues, a pang in his heart for his late father and heartbroken mother. “I know our child will feel the same.”

Kate smiles at that, her eyes once again glistening with tears as she leans in to kiss him. A few minutes later, after they’ve crawled under the covers and blown out the candles, he curls up close to her and holds her from behind, drifting off with his hand resting on her stomach.

-

Kate knew it was only a matter of time before they would have to tell their family about the baby, but she hoped to delay the announcement as long as possible.

Her reasons are both selfish and pragmatic - selfish because she enjoys the secrecy of she and Anthony being the only ones in the house to know about the life growing inside her, and pragmatic because she knows the risks of early pregnancy. The pain of losing a child would be made much worse by the torture of having to tell everyone she knew that they were no longer expecting.

Although her own mother and sister already know, as she was unable to suppress the look on her face when she realized she was with child in their presence, she has sworn them to secrecy until they tell Anthony’s family.

Anthony does not push her to share the news, but she can tell he is anxious to share the joy with the people closest to him. She would have told Violet and Daphne sooner, both mothers who understand the potential risks, but she did not entirely trust their ability to keep it quiet.

She and Anthony are sitting on the sofa nearest to the fireplace, having just finished dinner with the entire Bridgerton clan (including Daphne, who decided to tag along while Simon is in town for business) when the truth comes out.

They sit close, with their thighs touching, as they watch Francesca play the pianoforte. Kate feels warm from the fire, the hearty meal she just consumed, and most of all, from her husband’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

“Anthony, Kate?” Benedict offers them two glasses of port from the tray the footman just brought out.

“Just me, thanks,” Anthony says, accepting the glass.

Kate instantly freezes, pinching his thigh to alert him to what he just implied to the entire room. Perhaps no one realized, she thinks.

“Can Kate not make decisions of her own anymore, brother?” Eloise inquires with crossed arms. Damn it, Eloise.

Kate is at a loss for an explanation as to why her husband would deny her an after-dinner drink, and Anthony’s mind appears to be similarly blank.

“Or is there some reason Kate should not be drinking?” Benedict asks, sipping his own glass of port with a smug look on his face.

Neither of them answer, but Kate exchanges a look with Anthony, which the rest of the room takes as confirmation. She hears Daphne squeal, clutching their mother’s hand tightly.

“Oh, I knew it!” Daphne exclaims. “You are with child!”

“How did you know?” Anthony demands, before turning to Kate and lowering his voice, whispering in her ear: “Sorry, darling.”

She pats his hand in understanding - she knows he did not intend to reveal the news to his entire family in this way.

“Well, I didn’t know, but I suspected,” Daphne explains, coming to sit next to Kate. “You’ve been more blatantly overprotective than usual, Anthony.”

“I do not think that-"

“I saw you practically shove a footman out of the way to help Kate out of the carriage when we returned home from shopping this afternoon.”

Anthony huffs in defeat, crossing his arms. Kate noticed his already protective nature was amplified these past two weeks, but it didn’t bother her as much as she expected it might. She is still an independent woman, and she will never take an order from him (not that he would expect her to at this point), but she can hardly blame him for wanting to protect his child. If all she has to tolerate is him holding her hand or touching her back every time she exits a carriage or gets out of the bath, she can imagine worse fates.

Their only true argument so far has been whether or not she should continue riding her horse, and they settled on a compromise of nothing faster than a trot and absolutely no jumps. She thinks he may have secretly been relieved to have an excuse to limit her performing jumps on horseback - she has noticed how he still exhales deeply every time she safely lands.

“Well, Daphne, you were correct,” Kate smiles, placing her hand on her stomach. “I am two months along.”

“That explains where you two disappeared to on New Year’s-“ Colin is cut off abruptly when Anthony shoots daggers at him with his eyes.

“Oh, another baby!” Hyacinth says with glee, running over to hug Kate tightly. “And a baby that will live here, no less. Clyvedon is so far-"

“Hyacinth,” Violet scolds. “It is not a competition of which of your nieces and nephews live closest.”

The dowager walks over to them with a bright smile on her face, leaning down to take both Kate and Anthony’s hands.

“You are going to make the most wonderful parents. Congratulations.” Violet squeezes Kate’s hand. “Kate, my dear, I know Lady Mary will provide you with much wisdom and guidance, but please do not hesitate to come to me. I remember how lost and terrified I was my first time being with child.”

“Thank you, Violet,” Kate says. “I shall treasure every bit of advice you have for me.”

“All I will say now is that you should not hesitate to lean on your husband for support. It may seem a scary prospect, bringing a child into this world, but you are not alone.” Violet turns to her eldest son, her eyes glistening with tears. “I know Anthony will be every bit as attentive as his father was, as it is clear that he loves you as much as Edmund loved me.”

Kate feels Anthony’s fingers gently squeeze her waist before moving to splay out over her lower back.

“I will bear that in mind,” Kate says, leaning into her husband’s warmth a little more.

After the rest of the family has had a chance to wish them well, Violet insists that they all go to bed so they may promenade together in the morning while Daphne is still in town.

“Kate, can we read another chapter before bed?” Hyacinth begs. “I must know what happens with Jane and Mr. Bingley.”

After Violet, Daphne, Eloise and Francesca all read and raved about the newest novel by Miss Jane Austen at dinner, Hyacinth insisted upon reading it. Kate, who had also yet to read the book, suggested they read it together, which delighted her youngest sister-in-law.

It was part of an effort Kate set out to make when they returned from their wedding tour to spend time getting to know Anthony’s siblings on a more personal level by spending time one-on-one with each of them. She quickly found it to be very little effort at all - each of the Bridgertons possess different qualities and interests, but they all show her great kindness and share Kate’s enormous love for their eldest brother.

“I suppose we have time for a chapter or two,” Kate acquiesces, “go prepare for bed and I’ll join you in a minute.”

Hyacinth nods and goes to run upstairs. Before Kate can stand up to follow her, Anthony hops to his feet and holds out a hand to help her up.

“I do believe I can still manage standing on my own,” Kate grumbles, though her tone does not match the fondness in her eyes.

“Very well,” Anthony says, but his hand remains outstretched. Against her principles, she takes it and lets him pull her to her feet and into a quick kiss. “I have some work to do, but I will come to bed as soon as I am done.”

“Don’t take too long,” she says, leaving him with another kiss as she heads upstairs.

Hyacinth manages to persuade her into three chapters tonight. Kate’s surprised that she hasn’t read ahead given her interest in the story, but she seems to be truly surprised when Mr. Darcy reveals his true feelings for Elizabeth.

“I wish to have someone love me ardently someday,” Hyacinth sighs, interrupting the paragraph Kate was reading.

“And you shall.”

“That is easy for you to say,” Hyacinth whines, “considering Anthony is absolutely obsessed with you. He waited by the window for nearly an hour when you went shopping with Daphne today, awaiting your return.”

Kate feels herself blush. She no longer doubts how much her husband loves her, as he has both stated and proven that to be true countless times now, but it still makes her knees weak to think about.

“You will find that too, Hyacinth, I promise,” Kate says. “But you have many years before your debut, so you needn’t worry about that now.”

Hyacinth nods, uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. She looks at Kate’s stomach, still showing no visible signs of a child.

“Are you excited to be a mama?”

Kate nods, smiling. “I am nervous, but very excited. Truthfully, I never thought I would be a mother, as I never thought I would marry, but it has always been a secret wish of mine.”

“I think you will be a good mama,” Hyacinth says, staring at the blanket. “And I am certain Anthony will make a good papa. He is the closest thing to a father I have ever known.”

Kate’s heart aches for the young girl next to her. Although her own amma died when she was very young, and her appa later on in life, she still has some memories of her amma, which she holds very close to her heart. It’s a tragedy that Hyacinth never got to meet their father, who, by all accounts Kate has heard, was a great man.

“I am so sorry you never met your papa, Hyacinth,” Kate says softly, grasping her hand. “But I am glad you had a brother as good as Anthony to help raise you. He loves you very much.”

As Kate looks into Hyacinth’s eyes, always kind and playful and curious, she feels more certain than ever that Anthony will make a wonderful father. He has helped ensure that this little girl remained happy and wanted for nothing when she was born in the wake of tragedy and grief. Although it does not bear thinking about for too long, it’s a small comfort that if something were to happen to her, Anthony may be able to persevere and raise their child without her.

There’s a light knock on the door, which is slightly ajar, and Kate turns to see her husband standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“I believe it is much past your bedtime, little sister,” he says, serious but not stern.

“Oh, can we please finish the chapter?” Hyacinth begs, looking not at Anthony but Kate. The girl is smart to have already learned who truly calls the shots here.

“Very well,” Kate says, scooting over and patting the space next to her on the edge of the bed. “Anthony, would you like to learn a bit about true romance?”

“Am I lacking in that department?” he raises an eyebrow, meeting her eyes as she chuckles. Of course, the answer is an unequivocal no, but she won’t admit it now.

He joins them, kicking off his boots and climbing overtop of the covers, his arm wrapping around Kate’s shoulders.

“Go on, then,” he says, nudging Kate. “I will try my best not to doze off from boredom.”

Kate finishes reading the chapter aloud, and to both she and Hyacinth’s great amusement, Anthony proves to be very quickly invested.

“I do not understand why this Darcy fellow would give up so easily if he loves this woman as he claims to.”

“She has told him no, Anthony!” Hyacinth explains. “She is upset with him for ruining her sister’s engagement, it would not be prudent for him to propose to her again.”

“It may not be prudent, but if he truly loved her he would do whatever necessary.”

“And perhaps he will,” Kate interjects, closing the book. “But we will have to wait until tomorrow to find out. Your mother would be very displeased to know we’ve let you stay up this late.”

“Since when do you so enjoy romantic literature, brother?” Hyacinth teases.

Anthony rolls his eyes, but his hand takes Kate’s and his thumb runs over her betrothal ring. Whether it’s subconscious or not, she’s not sure.

“Goodnight, Hy,” he says, bending over to kiss his little sister’s forehead. “Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight,” she smiles. “Thank you for reading with me, Kate.”

“You are very welcome, Hyacinth.”

They exit the room and shut the door behind them, and Anthony pulls her in by the waist the second they’re alone in the dark hallway.

She responds in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a long, searing kiss. He moans slightly when she pulls away.

“Shall we go to bed, my lady?” he asks, keeping an arm around her waist.

“Yes,” she says, but she leans in to kiss him again. “You know, I think you are going to make a most excellent father.”

She can hardly see his face in the dark, but she can feel him smile where her hand cups his cheek.

“What makes you say that, my love?”

She pauses, thinking of the love he has shown through his protectiveness of her these past two weeks, the love he has always shown his younger siblings.

“You already are.”

-

Charles and Edith Parker have been frequent dinner guests at Bridgerton House since long before Anthony can remember.

He’s very fond of Charles - he’s a kind, smart man who was a friend of his father since their Eton days, and he helped guide Anthony when Edmund died and he was left in charge of the family’s finances. Although Edith has always meant well, she has an undying habit of putting her foot in her mouth, and a complete lack of ability to read the room.

Violet not-so-subtly reminded him that he had yet to host the Parkers since he and Kate got married, which is how they they end up at what might be the worst dinner of his life. This is no small feat, considering some of the truly disastrous dinners he’s been forced to endure over the past few years.

For the first hour, it’s a perfectly nice meal. The food is delicious and the conversation pleasant, with Edith politely asking Kate questions about their travels and Charles speaking with Anthony about marriage. Unlike many men he knows, Charles is not being sarcastic when he speaks of the joys of married life - much like Edmund did and Anthony now does, he genuinely adores his wife.

Only when dessert is brought out does the subject matter shift.

“Oh, Violet, did I tell you about my cousin’s girl? Abigail?” Edith asks, a piece of peach pie dangling from her fork.

“I don’t believe so. Was she the one with child?”

“Yes, it’s the most dreadful thing - she died during childbirth. The baby lived, but the poor child will never know his mother.”

Anthony can feel his throat start to constrict, his breaths becoming shallow, but he wills himself to tune out the conversation and focus on something else. Anything else.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” Violet says.

“She was just five and twenty, too, and perfectly healthy,” Edith continues, her voice seeming to grow louder with each syllable. “It’s such a shame when that happens, and far too common.”

Anthony feels Kate’s hand reach under the table and slide into his, squeezing tightly. She’s trying to anchor him, but he doesn’t realize that now. As his focus successfully latches on to Kate, however, so does his fear. Kate. Kate.

“It’s becoming less common now, though, with the advances in medicine,” Benedict says, his eyes moving rapidly from Edith to Anthony.

“Maybe so, but I heard that one in five women still pass during labour, many of them young, too. A real tragedy…”

His vision blurs and all the noise in the room blends into a high-pitched buzzing sound. He can no longer hear Edith, or his mother, or even Kate next to him, calling out his name.

“Anthony,” Kate says in a low voice. “Anthony, breathe-"

“I must - I cannot-“ He stands up from the table abruptly, his fork clattering loudly to the plate. “You must excuse me-"

He finds his legs carrying him out of the room of their own accord, the various voices calling out his name falling on deaf ears. The corridor blurs into a maze of old paintings and candlelight as he stumbles toward the first room he can find.

Once in his study, he slams the door behind him and collapses on the floor, his back against the wall. Staring at his boots and breathing heavily, he doesn’t hear the door open and close again just a few seconds later. He doesn’t notice Kate’s presence until he feels her familiar touch, both of her hands grabbing his as she kneels in front of him.

“Anthony. Anthony, you must try to breathe, darling.”

He clutches her hands tightly, shaking his head. “I-I cannot-"

“My love, I am here,” she says firmly. “I am not going anywhere. I need you to focus on me, do you understand? Can you try to breathe with me?”

He continues to shake his head, unable to focus on anything but the fear. He cannot breathe. He cannot think. He cannot think, because to think means to think of the numbers, of that terrifying statistic - one in five, or the age of the woman who died, two years younger than Kate. He cannot defy numbers.

“Kate, I - I cannot-"

“You must not think about it,” she says, taking his face into her hands. “It will be alright, I promise you.”

“But…but I could-"

“Anthony Bridgerton,” she says firmly, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “You will not lose me.”

It’s the look in her eyes that finally gets through to him - so steady, so sure. She is steady, he supposes. She has never wavered in her love for him or her family, she has never made a promise she did not intend to keep.

She looks at him, her deep brown eyes not blinking once, until he finally takes a deep, shaky breath.

“That’s it,” she says, taking his hand and placing it over her heart, just as she did the day the bee stung her in the garden. “Breathe with me.”

He takes a few more deep breaths in synchronization with her until the panic starts to fade and his mind begins to clear.

“I cannot lose you,” he says, the first real sentence he’s managed to say since leaving the table and the only coherent thought he’s had in the same amount of time. “I could not bear it, Kate. When my mother gave birth to Hyacinth and she nearly..."

He trails off, with no real need to finish that sentence. He's told Kate that story before, of the dark and stormy night at Aubrey Hall when he was told to choose between the life of his mother and baby sister at only eighteen years of age. He's dwelled on that memory far more than he should recently, despite his best efforts to not. It's his worst fear to have to make that decision when the time comes, mainly because he knows what Kate would want. He would have to deny her wishes or lose her forever, and he couldn't survive either of those options. 

“I know,” she whispers. “You shall not have to. I will be perfectly fine-"

“You cannot know that. You cannot control-"

“Anthony, listen to me.” She holds his hand tighter. “I will not leave you. I want nothing more than to grow old by your side, and as you know, I am fairly stubborn.”

He chokes out a laugh at that, but it quickly turns into a broken sob. He has never broken down like this in front of her, or anyone, to this extent, but he cannot help himself. The thought of losing her is the most harrowing he has ever faced.

“Oh, Anthony-"

They reach for each other at the same time, his face buried in her neck and his arms around her waist while she combs her fingers through his hair.

“I love you so much,” he says, kissing her collarbone. “I love you.”

He repeats the words not because she needs to hear them - heaven knows how many times he’s told her at this point - but to keep himself grounded, and because it is all he can do. He cannot change their fate, but he can love her. He can love her every day, every minute, every second that they are given.

She kisses the top of his head. “I love you too.”

They remain like that for awhile, though whether it’s seconds or hours remains a mystery. He does not look at his father’s watch nearly as much as he used to, now far too content with his present to worry as much about the future.

Eventually, there’s a knock on the door, and he hears Kate call out for whoever it is to come in.

“Sorry to interrupt.” He recognizes his mother’s voice, and he lifts his head from Kate’s shoulder to face her, hastily wiping the tears from his cheeks. “The Parkers have left. I told them you must have eaten something that didn’t agree with you.”

Anthony nods, his hand still intertwined with Kate’s. He understands his mother with startling clarity as he meets her eyes. He understands more than ever why she became a shell of herself after Edmund died, why she had so little will to live when giving birth to Hyacinth nearly killed her. He understands what it means to love someone so much that losing them would eclipse the sun forever, leaving nothing but darkness.

“I am sorry you both had to hear that,” Violet says, remaining in the doorway. “Kate, you must know, I survived eight pregnancies and my sister four. It can be dangerous, I don’t wish to delude you, but those statistics are swayed heavily by those giving birth in unsafe conditions and with no doctor present. We are very fortunate to not have those same concerns.”

Kate nods, and he can tell she feels the same pang of guilt he does that they have more resources, and thus far better odds, than the vast majority of the country.

“I must say, I cannot believe in all her years of life that Edith has never learned the art of when to stop talking,” Violet continues, eliciting a smile from both Kate and Anthony. “Anyway, I will leave you two. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Thank you,” Kate says sincerely. “We are alright now.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Anthony echoes.

As Violet exits, Anthony hastily pulls Kate back into his arms and resumes his steady stroking of her hair.

“We should go up to bed, it is not good for you to be sitting on the floor this long.”

“Not yet,” Kate murmurs, snuggling further into his embrace. When he opens his mouth to protest, she presses a finger to his lips. “Surely you will not deny your pregnant wife’s wishes.”

“My, you are stubborn,” he says, pulling her closer still.

“Indeed, and don’t you ever forget it.”

-

Kate loves being with child, for the most part. She loves knowing that she has life growing inside her, life that is the product of her love for Anthony. Violet, Mary and Daphne have told her time and time again that she should cherish this time, that it is most important to relish every moment before the baby comes. She wants to enjoy it, but that is difficult to do when she is getting violently ill every morning and every time she eats.

This particular morning, she managed only one small piece of toast before she was running to the chamberpot to empty the contents of her stomach.

“Oh, sweetheart-”

She hears Anthony’s voice as she keeps her head down, her lady’s maid Emma holding her hair back. He firmly instructed all the staff to alert him whenever Kate shows any signs of being unwell throughout the pregnancy, regardless of whether or not he is occupied. Even as her bouts of sickness have become more and more frequent, and she’s insisted he need not rush to her side every time, he has not wavered. Secretly, she is grateful - he does make the nausea and discomfort more bearable.

She doesn’t dare move enough to look up at him, but she feels his steady presence behind her as he takes over Emma’s position and gently takes her hair into his hands.

“Emma, please draw Lady Bridgerton a bath and prepare some tea.”

“Of course, my lord.”

She tries to sit up and is immediately hit with another wave of nausea, doubling over once more and beginning to vomit again.

“Oh, Kate,” Anthony murmurs, rubbing soothing circles over her back. “It’s alright, love, let it out.”

She remains in her position until she’s sure there is nothing left to possibly come out of her, and even then she rises slowly from the floor and leans back into Anthony’s chest.

“Are you feeling better?” Anthony asks, keeping his voice low. She’s grateful for his attention to his volume, as headaches have become another unpleasant side effect of pregnancy.

“Yes, a bit,” she mutters, taking the glass of water he offers her to wash her mouth out. “Our child will not allow me to keep a single bite of food down this week, it seems.”

“Would a bath help?”

She barely has the strength to nod, her energy depleted from the sickness and lack of food.

“Alright, let’s get you up.”

He gets to his feet before carefully helping her up, keeping a strong arm around her waist as he leads her toward the tub Emma has just filled with hot water.

“I’ve left your tea on the table, my lady,” Emma says. “Shall I help you undress?”

She looks more to Anthony for this part - while it is within Emma’s duties as a lady’s maid to help Kate dress each morning and undress each night, Anthony often prefers to do it himself. These days, as her stomach starts to grow and she is no longer wearing a corset, it is an even easier task than usual.

“You may leave us, Emma, thank you,” Anthony says.

The moment Emma has closed the door, Anthony begins to take off Kate’s nightgown while jostling her as little as possible. With gentle hands, he ties her hair up in a neat knot at the top of her head and secures it with a silk tie.

“Will you join me?“ she asks him somewhat timidly, already feeling guilty about interrupting his work. “I know you have business to attend to-"

“Nonsense,” Anthony cuts her off immediately. “The only thing I must attend to is you.”

He carefully lifts her and deposits her into the tub before removing his own clothing and climbing in behind her. She feels instantly soothed by the warm water and his chest pressed against her back.

“I am sorry you are suffering,” he murmurs into her hair, his hand stroking up and down her thigh. It is amazing how his touch can both set her on fire and keep the world at bay; right now is the latter. She leans into him, her hand resting on top of his to keep it there.

“I am fine,” she assures him, and she means it. She is uncomfortable, exhausted and starving, but the end result will be well worth it. “This is normal, your mother said she experienced the same when carrying both Benedict and Francesca.”

“She also said it would subside by the fourth month, of which we are now approaching the end.”

She can’t see his face, but she can imagine the adorable wrinkle between his eyes that appears when he is cross or concerned to be quite prominent.

Kate rests her hand on his knee. “Darling, every woman and every child is different. The doctor said this was no cause for concern.”

Anthony sighs, pulling her closer and placing both his hands on her stomach. The first signs of growth have started, though the slight curve of her stomach would be almost imperceptible to anyone other but the man who spends the most time looking at it.

“Do you want some tea?” he offers her the cup from the table next to the tub.

The hot chai soothes her sore throat as she brings the drink to her lips, keeping her sips small to avoid another bout of nausea. Luckily, chai has been one of the only things her body does not reject these days. Although she prefers to prepare it herself, Anthony asked Mary to teach their kitchen maid so he could have it brought to her when she is too sick to leave their bed. He has started drinking it as well, claiming he wishes save the maid the trouble of making two kinds of tea, but Kate can tell he secretly prefers it to English tea - as any sane person would, she believes.

When she’s done, she leans back into his chest and lets him gently scrub her body with the lily soap he now buys in absurd quantities, as if they could ever run out. She’s certain they alone could keep the manufacturer in business.

“This is nice,” she sighs, “I feel as though we are back on our wedding tour.”

Their six-month voyage to India and back was the most perfect and serene time of Kate’s life. The days were peaceful and relaxing as they laid on sandy beaches and ate fresh fruit, talking for hours without a care in the world. For the first time in both of their lives, neither of them felt the burden of duty or grief. They felt only the warmth of the sun and their love for one another.

And then there was the nights. Kate’s eyes were opened to an entirely new realm of pleasure, feeling things she didn’t know existed. Their bodies tangled together each evening, the wind blowing in from the sea offering a slight reprieve from the heat of an Indian summer but not from the burning between her legs.

He hums in agreement in her ear, clearly yearning for those months as much as she does as he begins to leave a trail of kisses on the side of her neck.

“Anthony…”

She tilts her head to give him better access, morning softly as he sucks on the part of her neck that they both know to be particularly sensitive.

“Anthony, I’m afraid I am still too nauseous for this to go much further,” she says, still enjoying the feeling of his lips on her skin too much to pull away. “I apologize, I know it has been some time since we-“

“Kate.” He stops kissing her abruptly, gently tilting her head to the side so she is facing him. “Please do not apologize for such a thing again. You are carrying my child, what kind of husband would I be to expect more from you than that?”

“Quite a typical one, I imagine,” she points out.

It’s an undisputed truth that most husbands in the ton do not love their wives as much as he loves her, but it pains Kate to see that many of them haven’t even a modicum of respect for the women that bear their children. It may be a tall order to find a love as great as theirs, but she thinks every woman should at least deserve a man who does not think of her as merely property.

“That may be true, but I hope you know you owe me nothing,” he says firmly. “Not ever, and certainly not right now.”

“I do know that,” she says softly, leaning in to peck his lips. “But I have also missed being with you that way these past few weeks. I hope this sickness passes soon.”

He kisses her once more before bundling her in his arms again.

“So do I, my darling.”

-

If Anthony’s morning, which consists of a meeting with his solicitor and a trip to the tailor, is a bit dull, it certainly beats his afternoon.

He gets home shortly after one, anxious to see his wife. He promised her this morning before he left that he would accompany her on a walk around the square when he got home. Although he sometimes thinks it would be better for his sanity if she remained in their bed at all times so he didn’t have to worry, he loves her far too much to deny her freedom.

When he arrives at Bridgerton House, he’s surprised to see not only a footman but also his valet Richard waiting for him.

“Lord Bridgerton, I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

Anthony freezes, his blood running cold.

“What kind of accident?” he demands. “Is Kate - is Lady Bridgerton alright?”

“Her ladyship had a fall, my lord, but she is going to be alright. The doctor said she will-"

“Where is she?”

“The bedchamber, my lord.”

Anthony brushes past him, blind in his pursuit as he runs into the house and up the stairs to their bed. He bursts through the doors with no idea what to expect, no real thoughts forming but pure terror until he sees her.

Kate - his love, his life, his sun and all his stars - is blessedly awake and sitting upright in their bed. She shows no obvious signs of injury other than a bandaged wrist and she is laughing at something Benedict has just said. As far as he can tell, she is alright.

He has not lost her, and judging by the look on her face, they have not lost their child. His world continues to turn.

“Kate,” he exhales, his breaths shallow from sprinting up the stairs. He’s not sure he breathed at all from the moment he heard the word accident until now. “Are you-“

“I’m fine,” Kate says, reaching her unbandaged arm out to him to beckon him closer. “It was just a fall, I am fine and the baby is fine.”

In one swift motion, he collapses onto the bed next to her and wraps his arms around her body, burying his face in her neck to breathe her in. He feels her fingers card through his hair, the action soothing him beyond belief, as it always does. When he tugs her closer, she inhales sharply and he immediately pulls away, keeping her at an arm’s length.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head. “I am just a bit sore.”

“What happened?”

“I was on my way downstairs for luncheon and I tripped on one of Newton’s toys he had dragged out into the corridor,” Kate says, making his heart drop to his stomach. “Benedict came to my aid within moments and called for the doctor, who assured me that the baby is unharmed, as my stomach took none of the impact.”

Anthony curses that damn dog, not for the first time and certainly not the last. He may have grown to love him - begrudgingly, and with much persuasion from Kate - but he is still a massive pain in his arse.

“Did the doctor say anything else?”

He turns to Benedict with this question, assuming his brother spoke with the doctor and, perhaps, that he will give him a straighter answer than Kate would.

“Well, Kate stuck her arm out to protect the child, so there was some damage to her wrist and shoulder,” Benedict says, “but he determined it was nothing that won’t heal within a few weeks.”

Anthony’s eyes fall to her injured limb, his hand reaching out to stroke her knuckles.

“I would like to speak with him.”

Kate sighs. “Anthony, he has already done all that is necessary and taken his leave-“

“I would still like to speak with him myself,” Anthony insists. He knows he is being irrational, and that both Benedict and Kate are capable of taking instruction for her medical care, but he does not care. This is his wife, carrying his child, and he will spare no time or expense to verify that they are safe.

“Very well, I will send for him,” Benedict says.

“Thank you, Benedict, for indulging my husband’s protective nature. And for everything else,” Kate smiles.

“Anything for my favourite sister-in-law and third-favourite brother,” he says with a wink, squeezing Anthony’s shoulder as he brushes past him to exit the room.

He is grateful for his brother’s comforting presence, both now and the last time he was petrified with fear after seeing Kate injured.

Once they are alone, Anthony reassumes his place next to Kate and gently takes her uninjured hand in his. She flips her palm to slide their fingers together. Now that there are no eyes on her but his, he can see her bravado begin to fade. She avoids his stare, looking down at her lap.

“Are you in pain?” he asks, voice laced with concern.

“It’s not that, I-" She shakes her head, eyes beginning to well with tears. “Anthony, I was so frightened. When I fell, I was so scared I was going to - that the baby would be-"

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, gently taking her in his arms. Their positions from a few minutes earlier are reversed, with her face pressed into the crook of his neck as she lets out a sob. “It’s alright, my love. Everything is alright.”

It’s a rarity that Kate allows herself to succumb to her emotions. Even during pregnancy, she has remained a pillar of strength, never wavering. He’s observed women with child many times, between his mother and Daphne, and he knows it to be a particularly emotional time in a woman’s life. Simon told him that Daphne once sobbed hysterically over a broken teacup. It’s almost a relief for him that Kate has finally broken down at a time when he is here to hold her; he couldn’t bear to think of her suffering alone.

“I should have been more careful. How am I to be a good mother if I cannot keep my own child safe-“

“Shh, Kate,” he interrupts. “I will not hear of that. This was an accident. Besides, you protected our child on instinct alone, which indicates that you will be an excellent mother.”

Her breathing begins to slow, but she does not move her face from his neck until her tears have dried, and he does not move an inch except for his fingers combing through her hair.

Eventually, she pulls away enough that he can take a good look at her, her eyes red and splotchy from crying.

“I have never been so terrified,” she admits, sniffling.

“It is…an awful feeling,” he agrees, subconsciously reaching for her hand to squeeze as he thinks of the day he carried her lifeless body up the stairs, praying to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in that she would make it through. He’s very grateful he doesn’t have to wait a week this time to know if she - and the baby - will be okay. He’s not sure his heart could take it, it’s difficult enough seeing her hurt and distraught. “Is it painful? Your arm?”

“Somewhat, but I expect I will be fine in a few days time,” she says, pulling him closer. “I am sorry I gave you a scare.”

“Do not apologize, my love, I am only relieved you are alright.” He brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “Is there anything I can do while we wait for the doctor?”

Smiling, she shifts over slightly to make room for him.

“You can hold me.”

He happily obliges.

-

Light is slowly creeping through the curtains when Kate wakes. She leans into the sliver of sunlight in the middle of the bed, shifting closer to the heat emanating from her husband’s sleeping body and enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. After days of cold, unrelenting rain, it is most welcome.

Anthony is still breathing evenly, his face relaxed and his body turned slightly toward her. Even when they sometimes drift apart to their respective sides of the bed through the night, he is always facing her, always stretching an arm or leg in her direction.

She selfishly wants to wrap an arm around him and steal more of his warmth, wants to kiss every inch of his face, but she knows she should allow him to sleep as long as he can. When he wakes, he must face the day, and she knows it will not be an easy one.

Today is the anniversary of Edmund Bridgerton’s death. The family is gathered at Aubrey Hall, as they do every year to pay their respects to their late patriarch. It is not the sole reason for the trip - they have been in the country for two weeks now - but the upcoming date has been looming over them since their arrival. Truthfully, Kate has been dreading it.

Anthony is not one to talk about particularly difficult feelings. He represses, deflects and ignores - he always has, and from what his family tells her, he used to be much worse before they met. She may have helped him open himself up to being vulnerable, but it still doesn’t come naturally to him.

Carefully, without disturbing her husband’s sleeping form, Kate slides out of bed. The floorboards are cold against her bare feet as she walks over to the window, opening the curtains just an inch more so she can look out at the grounds.

She’s not surprised to see Violet already making her way to her post at Edmund’s grave, carrying a picnic basket in one arm and holding Hyacinth’s hand with the other.

Eloise told her yesterday that their mother does this every year, staying by her husband’s place of rest from morning until night, with the other Bridgertons keeping her company throughout the day. Kate is no stranger to grief, but to lose one’s husband - one’s other half - is another thing entirely. She cannot begin to fathom the pain Violet felt, the pain that lives with her still. Just the thought of losing Anthony like that makes Kate’s heart clench.

“Kate?” Anthony calls out, and she turns to see him with eyes still half-lidded, his arm reaching out for her. “Come back to bed.”

She obliges, climbing back into her side of the bed and shifting over until he’s able to wrap an arm around her waist and tug her closer.

“Good morning,” she says softly, combing her fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. “Did you sleep well?”

He nods, grabbing her wrist and pressing a kiss there. She studies his face, stoic and guarded. She desperately wants to coax every troubled thought out of him, but she knows better than to force him to talk. Although the Anthony she has known has often been vulnerable, at least with her, she cannot ignore the ten years that passed before they met. She must remember that it does not come easily to him to talk about his grief.

“It is a beautiful day,” she says. “Perhaps you would like to join your mother outside for a while after we break our fast?”

Anthony says nothing, his thumb still idly stroking her wrist but his eye line not meeting hers.

“Anthony…” she sighs.

“I would much rather spend the morning in bed with my wife,” he says, kissing her nose, “and our child,” he adds, hand resting on her stomach.

Her heart flutters as she feels his touch over the thin material of her nightgown.

She would also love to spend the day in bed with him - she could spend every day like that with very little persuasion, if it were not for their various responsibilities - but today, there are more important matters at hand.

“You are being evasive, my love,” she says softly, resting her hand over his. “I know today is difficult for you, but I do not wish for you to suffer in silence as you have in the past, or avoid letting yourself feel things simply because they are difficult-“

“I am not avoiding anything, Kate, I just…”

His tone is firm, but he instantly softens when he meets her eyes.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Anthony sighs, squeezing her hand. “I know you mean to help, but I prefer to pay tribute to my father in other ways.”

Kate begins to run her hand up and down his bicep. “How so?”

“Typically, by fulfilling my duty to my family and spending the day working in the study,” he confesses. “I find work to be both a welcome distraction and a reassurance that I am keeping our family afloat, as he always did.”

“I understand that,” Kate says, continuing to rub soothing patterns into his skin, “however, I think you might find it a comfort to both you and your family if you were to join them in their traditions. Eloise told me you seldom participate, and I imagine doing so would mean a great deal to your mother.”

Anthony remains silent, but she can tell by the way his body relaxes and a sigh leaves his lips that she has won this dispute. As always, it is much easier to convince him of something when she is sure he already knows deep down that it is right.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes tightly. “Very well. I have many documents requiring my attention, but I suppose they may wait until the afternoon.”

Kate smiles appreciatively. Even if he is agreeing more for her benefit than his own, not wanting to argue too profusely with his pregnant wife, she is content - she has always been more concerned with reaching her destination than the means of getting there.

“Will you come out with me?” he asks.

“Of course I will accompany you if you wish,” Kate says. “But I think it important that you have some time alone with your family to share memories of your father. I know how much it has helped Edwina, Mama and I to do so since Appa died. I will be just inside if you need me.”

He cups the back of her head and pulls her close enough that he can press a kiss, soft and warm, to her forehead. Her eyes flutter closed with contentment at the feeling of his lips on her skin.

“Alright, my love,” he whispers. “I shall go outside after we eat. I asked the staff to prepare some more of those plum cakes you enjoy.”

Now that the worst of her sickness due to the pregnancy seems to be behind her, Kate has found herself at the mercy of a far less vicious side-effect of being with child - the cravings.

“Thank you,” Kate smiles.

“It’s the least I can do, you are eating for two now.“

They take their breakfast in bed, something they’ve made a habit of since getting married. It’s become a running joke amongst the family that they are too insatiable to leave their bed a moment before it is required of them.

While some of the Bridgertons wagered it would stop after six months, or perhaps even a year, both Daphne and Violet knew better; Violet told Kate once that she and Edmund were the very same until they had children. Even after Anthony was born, she said they would still sometimes stay in their room all day soaking up every moment with their newborn son.

After they’ve finished and made themselves presentable enough, though more casual than they would be if not in the country surrounded by only family, she kisses Anthony goodbye and sends him off.

Kate would typically take a turn about the gardens at this time, either with Newton or with Anthony, but she wishes to grant the family some privacy. Instead, she takes the opportunity to wander around the vast corridors of Aubrey Hall, many of which she has never seen.

Even after several weeks here during their wedding and the weeks surrounding it, as well as a few more before Christmas, Kate is still in disbelief that this is her home now. The enormous house enchanted her from the moment she first laid eyes on it, long before she could have ever imagined she would live here.

Back then, she assumed she would return to India and pass the rest of her days as a spinster governess. Now, she is madly in love and a viscountess, living in one of the grandest houses in Kent. Life is a funny thing.

She stumbles upon Simon and Augie in the drawing room, playing with a toy horse on the floor near the fireplace. It’s both an entertaining and heartwarming sight to see the duke mimicking the neigh of a horse to make his child laugh.

“Kate!” Augie exclaims when he sees her in the doorway, pointing in her direction.

“Good morning, little one,” Kate smiles, crossing her arms behind her back. “And to you as well, Your Grace.”

“How many times must I beg you to call me Simon?” the duke asks, plopping his son on his lap. “I know you do not bother with such formalities with my wife.”

“Well, Daphne was much more persistent,” Kate says. “She left me very little choice in the matter.”

“That sounds like her.” Simon laughs fondly. “Please, join us.”

She obliges, sitting on the floor a few paces away from the duke and tucking her legs behind her. To her delight, Augie stands and takes the few shaky steps needed to reach her. The child plops himself in her lap and leans contently on her chest.

“You are very fond of your Aunt Kate, aren’t you Augie?”

Augie makes a small sound of agreement.

“I assure you the feeling is quite mutual,” Kate smiles, hugging her nephew close.

She’s grateful that he will be close in age to her own child, and she hopes that Edwina and the other Bridgerton siblings will not be far behind them to produce more little companions for their child.

“Has Daphne joined Violet at her vigil?” Kate asks after a moment.

Simon nods, his hand skimming the plush rug underneath them.

“And Anthony is working in his study, I presume?”

“Actually, he’s outside with the family as well,” Kate says, earning a raised eyebrow from the duke. “It did take some convincing on my part. A pregnant wife can be very persuasive.”

Simon chuckles, and she gets the sense that he knows this to be true firsthand.

“You have a good effect on him, you know,” he says. “I never thought I would see Anthony Bridgerton so relaxed.”

“He is not always relaxed, particularly not since I have been with child,” Kate points out, her hand resting on her stomach.

“That I’m afraid I cannot fault him on, as I believe I was similarly obsessive when Daphne was carrying this one,” Simon gestures to the toddler in her arms. “Still, you have changed him.”

She pauses at that, considering his words. Perhaps he has become more open and less rigid since their marriage, but she has known him to be kind, intelligent, and incredibly dedicated to his family since the day she met him. Those qualities - the truly important ones - have not changed.

“I do not believe I changed him so much as…guided him,” she answers frankly. “He was lost when I met him, all he needed was some guidance to become the best version of the man he’s always been.”

“You may be right,” Simon acquiesces. “Forgive me if I’ve overstepped. I have great respect and fondness for your husband, even when he can be a pain in the arse.”

“There we are in complete agreement,” Kate says, earning a laugh from the duke. “And you have not overstepped. I’m sorry if I was blunt, I often find myself getting defensive when it comes to Anthony. I know he is not perfect, but he loves his family more than anything in the world, and all of his mistakes have been with the best intentions in mind.”

Anthony has told Kate of all that passed during Daphne’s season in hushed tones with insurmountable regret. She knows that he has apologized to both Daphne and Simon, but also that he still harbours much guilt over the whole situation.

“When the late Lord Bridgerton died, Anthony and I were foolish boys at Oxford, with no concept of true responsibility. I got to carry on as such, while he became the head of this family,” Simon says. “I cannot pretend to understand that burden, but I do agree with you that he has done his best. As does Daphne.”

The sound of Augie’s stomach grumbling interrupts their conversation.

“I reckon it is time for luncheon,” Simon says to the footman by the door. “Kate, would you like to join us?”

She shakes her head politely. “I think I will read for a little while.”

She allows Simon to help her to her feet and thanks him by name, much to his delight, before heading for the library.

Perhaps her favourite room in the house, in close competition with their sleeping quarters, is the library. Its offerings are endless, from Greek myths to French poetry to modern English novels, and its four walls bring her immense comfort.

It’s here that Anthony finds her, lounging on a settee by the window with her nose buried in a book. She doesn’t see him at first, too engrossed in the pages, until she hears a soft knock on the half-open door.

“I thought I might find you here,” he says with a small smile.

She has vivid flashbacks of the first time she saw him in that doorway, disheveled and vulnerable in the candlelight. The first time he truly bore his soul for her.

Now, he is more fully dressed, but no less exposed. His eyes are tinged with red and his lips pressed together tightly as he soaks in the sight of her.

Wordlessly, she sets down the book and opens her arms for him. He strips off his coat and drapes it over a chair before going to her and settling into her embrace without hesitation.

Kate adjusts their bodies so he can lay in between her legs with his head on her chest and his arm wrapped around her waist. She does not speak, simply carding her fingers through his hair and waiting until he is ready.

“What were you reading?” he asks after a while.

“I thought I would read something in your father’s memory, you mentioned how he used to read you Fielding.”

Anthony tilts his head to look at her, smiling warmly. “He would have loved you.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Well, my mother adores you, and they were two sides of the same coin. He always wanted me to marry for love, which never would have happened if it weren’t for you.” He pecks her lips at that, both of them leaning in like a reflex. “He also would have admired your wit - how you keep everyone on their toes - and your kindness.”

She smiles, stroking his cheek. “I wish I could have known him. He sounds like a remarkable man.”

“He was,” Anthony sighs, leaning back into her embrace and pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Thank you for urging me to visit his grave. It was nice, and I know my mother appreciated it, even if she suspected it was your idea.”

“I’m glad,” she kisses his forehead.

There’s another lull of silence as Kate enjoys the warm breeze flowing in through the window. Faintly, she can hear the children’s voices as they run around the grounds with Newton.

“I worry sometimes about following in his footsteps,” Anthony admits in a low voice. “He was the best father we could have asked for. I don’t know how I could ever measure up to that.”

It breaks her heart to hear his self-doubt, but it’s a thought so ridiculous she could almost laugh.

“Anthony, you have supported your family since you were eighteen years old,” she says emphatically. “You have been the only father figure Gregory and Hyacinth have ever known, and it is clear as day how much they adore and look up to you, as do all your siblings. I have not a single doubt in my mind that you will make a most excellent father.”

He smiles, resting his hand on her growing stomach. She places her hand overtop of his, sliding their fingers together.

“I have a question,” she says, and he nods. “If it is a boy, as I suspect, would you like to call him Edmund?”

He looks up at her with wide eyes. “Truly?”

“Only if it’s what you wish, and if you think your mother would be alright with it.”

“I think she would love that, Kate, as would I,” he smiles tearfully. “Thank you, darling-"

They both freeze suddenly, a foreign sensation taking both of them by surprise. Within her stomach, underneath his palm, there is a fluttering of movement.

Anthony’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Kate, was that…?”

She nods rapidly, both of them sitting upright with Anthony’s palm never leaving her stomach.

“Do you think-"

Before she can wonder if they both somehow imagined it, the movement happens again. Stronger, this time, so there is no mistaking it. That is their child.

“I take it he approves of the name,” Kate breathes.

Anthony lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and pulls her into his chest, pressing restless kisses to her forehead and temple.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs into her hair, hands sweeping over her back. “You are everything. You and this baby - you mean more to me than I could ever express.”

“I love you too, Anthony.”

They remain like that for a little while, before Kate eventually grows tired and insists upon taking her midday nap - another adjustment to her routine these past few months - right here in the library. Anthony resists a little, but she is adamant that his arms are just as comfortable as their bed and she is far too content to move.

She lays her head on his chest and closes her eyes while he reads the book aloud to her from where she left off, the deep cadence of his voice lulling her to sleep.

She is not naive enough to think that either of their doubts and fears about having a child will vanish overnight, but she does know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt - they love each other, and they will love this baby, and that is enough.

Perhaps, that is everything.