The British Billionaire's Baby by Cristina Grenier

first child, my dear, and you’re also fairly new to Britain and thusly unfamiliar with our practices, but believe me when I say St. Mary’s is what’s best for you and for the baby. I know that Doctor Bletchley may have more experience catering to…people of your ilk, but St. Mary’s is not only cleaner, it’s more prestigious and better funded. You won’t be sorry you went.”
    People of her…ilk?
    Doctor Bletchley was a British- African man – dark-skinned and well spoken. Now, Gabby wasn’t guessing that the duchess was a racist bitch, she was sure of it. Slowly, she raised a napkin to her mouth to dab at an invisible food stain delicately. “Of course, Lady Hunter.” She rose from the table, her stomach churning with disgust. “I’m sorry, but I’m feeling a little under the weather. It must be the baby. Please excuse me.”
    “Of course, dear. Do lie down and have a glass of soda. Rest up.” Amelia’s unfaltering smile was maddening, and as Gabby made a good show of tottering off in her heels, it was emblazoned across her mind.
    That ghastly woman was going to be the grandmother of her child – and it was clear that she thought she was going to have control over its every move. If that was the impression she had, then Duchess Hunter had another thing coming. Gabrielle was prepared to pretend to be a dutiful, loving wife. She was even prepared to put herself in the media spotlight and feign fame and fortune. One thing she would not do, however, was take orders from a conniving high class crone – Sebastian’s mother or not.
    Kicking off her heels, she fled up the stairs, both her mind and her stomach in turmoil.
     
    **
     
    She didn’t speak to him for two weeks.
    Mind you, she had every right, considering his mother’s first grand, cruel power play. Even Sebastian himself had been surprised at her ruthlessness. While he’d known his mother would do everything in her power to put her grandchild and the Hunter name in the spotlight, he hadn’t thought that would include insulting Gabrielle to her face.
    Luckily, the high-maintenance woman was out most days’ till late flitting around the London social scene. On the few occasions that she did chose to interact with them, it wasn’t to ask after the baby or Gabrielle’s health, but to lecture them on what social groups they should let their child interact in and what extracurricular activities would be best for it.
    Gabrielle endured these tirades with thin patience, her fingers clutched to the tiny swell of her stomach as she stared raptly at the air beside his mother’s head. She was cordial enough with him in his parents’ midst, but the moment Amelia released them, she fled from him, locking herself in her studio or the bathroom to drone him out. His mother was, he realized, trying to dictate his child’s future just as she’d dictated his, and the thought disturbed him greatly.
    There was, however, absolutely nothing he could do about it. He was constantly in the eye of the media and any wrong move he made would reflect badly on their family. This, in turn, would make his mother suspicious – and if she found out that he and Gabrielle weren’t truly married, she would no doubt challenge the child’s legitimacy. Despite the background he’d faked for Gabby, his mother was still displeased with her.
    This was, Sebastian knew, because she hadn’t chose her – and of course his father made not the slightest motion to curb his wife’s behavior. He never had. Since their marriage, she had been the one in charge – and Sebastian’s political and emotional obligations to his family dictated that he satisfy her. He couldn’t even allow Tristan near the house under his mother’s watchful eye. She strongly disapproved of homosexuals, and would no doubt explode with anger upon discovering Gabrielle and the unborn child had been in contact with one.
    His mother’s antics were making Gabrielle profoundly unhappy – any fool could see