Deceiving the Viscount

Chapter 9

Frederica stared out the window. There was a rare patch of blue sky peeking out from behind the clouds. If the weather continued to hold, maybe she could spend some time out in the garden with William. She glanced down at her son who was suckling milk eagerly from her breast. It never seemed to be enough for him these days though. She would have to start asking Cook to prepare some soft foods for him.

A sharp pain across the bottom of her nipple had her wincing. Mary had the right of things. William's bottom teeth were emerging all right. She'd checked yesterday morning and saw some white peeking through the pink. Shifting her position slightly, she manoeuvred him as a former wet nurse had taught her to do so William could take more of her breast in. The pain stopped.

She touched a finger to his moving cheek. Thank goodness she'd spoken extensively to the woman in the village about how to nurse her son properly. She wondered if Adelaide had the same chance to learn about the intricacies of breastfeeding her daughter. Likely she had. Martha had been born only about a month before William after all.

Letting out a little laugh, she shook her head, missing her best friend fiercely. When they'd navigated the London Season two years ago, the talk of babies hadn't dominated their conversations. In fact, the lack of said babies in their lives had been what they discussed because they weren't sure that either of them would get married since they were not of the convention. Their ideas were decidedly radical like helping the labouring class and eschewing the expectations of marriage while re-examining women's roles in society. And if this had been made known, they'd probably have been made social pariahs.

Yet, here they were now, two years on, wedded and mothers. If her younger self could see her now, what might she have said or thought? Likely she'd have been speechless, or maybe she'd have castigated her older self. What could have possibly driven her to put herself in this position? She'd taken the same risk her mother had, though she was far better off than her mother. But she was still raising her child on her own without the financial support of a husband. And having seen how difficult life was like for the widowed women in the labouring class, she knew she was extremely fortunate to have the Leylands assisting her. But it wouldn't last, and she was under no illusion it would.

She had to find a faster way to meet her father. While there was no guarantee that he would acknowledge her, let alone provide for her, but she wouldn't know until she tried. There was nothing she wouldn't do for the sake of her son's future. Even if she had to sacrifice her own pride to secure his.

A knock on the door pierced her thoughts. "Yes?" It opened to reveal Mary. "What is it, Mary?"

"Begging your pardon, Mrs Brookfield. I know you're busy with William now. But one of the footmen told me that you have a visitor. A Viscount Healey has come to call."

She blinked. "Lord Healey? Has come?"

"Yes." Her emotions must have been plain on her face for Mary said, "should I tell the footman that you aren't home to receive callers?"

"I..." she'd have sent him away but she remembered that she owed him an apology after the way she behaved the other night. Had he come calling because he wanted to demand one from her? She didn't realise he possessed such a petty nature. Had she been wrong about him all along?

"Mrs Brookfield?"

"Sorry. Please tell his lordship that I will receive him in..." She looked down at William who didn't look to be stopping any time soon. "Probably a quarter of an hour."

"Very well." As the door closed gently, William dislodged himself, fussing. She shifted him to her right breast since the left one no longer felt as full, and gently coaxed him to attach his mouth. It took a couple of tries but he soon began to suckle once again. She took this chance to strategise how she would approach Healey.