THE EARL'S PREGNANT BRIDE by Christine Rimmer - THE BRAVO ROYALES (BRAVO FAMILY TIES #41) 08 - THE EARL'S PREGNANT BRIDE

right arm braced on the door frame and a woozy look on her pretty face. She wore the same yellow sleeveless dress she’d worn at dinner, and her peep-toe Manolo Blahniks dangled from the fingers of her left hand. Clearly, a lot more wine had been consumed since Genny and Eloise had left the table. “May I come in?”
    Whatever for? Genny couldn’t remember ever having had a private conversation with Brooke’s friend. “You know, Fiona, it’s late and I was just—”
    “A little chat, that’s all, just you an’ me.” Fiona peeled herself off the door frame. “I won’t stay long, promise. Only a minute or two...”
    It was either shove her backward and slam the door in her face—or go along. For now. Genny waved her in.
    “Super.” Fiona dodged around her and headed for the sofa, plunking down on it with a huffing sound and dropping her yellow shoes to the rug. She lifted both arms and spread them wide along the sofa back. “I understand congratulations are in order.” There was definite smirking. “A baby. How nice.”
    “Thank you.” Genny took one of the wing chairs. She wasn’t the least surprised that Fiona knew. No way Brooke could have resisted the temptation to tell her—especially not after the two of them had poured down large amounts of wine. “Rafe and I are very excited.”
    “Oh, well, I’m sure you are.” Fiona listed to the left a bit, but then righted herself once more. “When are you due—if you don’t mind my asking?”
    “Not at all,” Genny sweetly lied. “December 20.”
    “Ah. A Christmas baby.”
    “Yes.”
    “Aren’t those good luck?”
    “Christmas babies, you mean?”
    “Yes.” Fiona blinked several times in rapid succession, apparently trying to focus. “I’m sure I heard once that...um...” The sentence wandered off unfinished.
    This was getting a little scary. “Fiona, let me help you to your room.” Genny started to stand.
    “In a minute, Yer Highness.” Fiona stared at her through narrowed eyes—because her vision was blurry or as a drunken attempt at a glare, Genny couldn’t tell which. “I have...things which I need to say to you.”
    Genny slowly lowered herself back into the chair. Fiona looked pretty bad. Was she going to pass out? She needed to be in her own room before that happened. “Fiona, I think it’s time you let me help you to your—”
    “A minute. Just a minute. I only, well, I wanted to tell you. How ver’ sorry I am. For Rafe. For...how difficult it must be for him...”
    Genny really, really did not like where this was going. She braced for the big insult.
    “So terrible,” Fiona barreled on, “knowing he’s not a DeValery by blood, but only the, um, bastard son of some nobody, some gardener.”
    Genny gulped. Alrighty, then. Completely different insult than she’d been expecting. “That’s enough, Fiona. You’re talking nonsense.”
    The awful woman wouldn’t stop. She only sniffed loudly—and kept on. “I mean, Rafe has a good heart. He means well. He tries. I know that. We all know that. And he must feel terribly guilty about the accident. It’s so obvious. I mean, that hideous scar he’s done nothing about. He’s leavin’ himself scarred as a penance for the accident, isn’t he?”
    “Of course not. Fiona—”
    “I know, I know.” She waved a hand. “He wasn’t driving. They have all those forensic things they do now. They proved, somehow, that he wasn’t at the wheel. But will we ever really know? Will we ever—?”
    “Fiona. Hello!” Genny tried again to shut her up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Oh, don’t I, then? You’d be surprised what I know, what I’ve been through. How I’ve suffered.” The green eyes filled with tears. “What I have had that you will
never
get. Ver’ surprised. Oh, yes, you would.” The tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks.
    “Fiona, it’s time for you to—”
    “Who can tell, is all I’m saying? Who can know? Except that