Magnificent.
Penny had no interest in accumulating desperate suitors of the ton. She had a singular interest in winning the heart of one man, which meant she’d be betting everything she had on love. If attending his ball and looking magnificent could help in the least … ?
Well, then. She had little time to waste.
“Hurry along.” Gabe kicked the blocks in place to keep the wagon wheels from moving, while Ash and Chase adjusted the wooden ramp to the wagon bed. “We need to have this done before the ladies return from the shops.”
“What’s the hurry?” Chase said.
Gabe hedged. “So they can arrive at Ashbury’s country estate before nightfall. Safer for men and beasts that way.”
In truth, he didn’t want to risk meeting with Penny. Conversation was to be avoided at all costs. Nothing she could say would change his mind, and nothing he could say would make it any easier.
“Come on, then.” He clapped his hands. “Angus is waiting. We need to have Marigold loaded before I can settle the hens.”
“We have a problem,” Ashbury called from the mews. “The goat won’t move. She keeps stamping at the ground and bleating. Her belly doesn’t look right. It keeps bunching and shifting.”
Chase and Gabe followed him into the stalls.
“Penny always says the creature has sensitive digestion,” Gabe said. “Perhaps the goat ate something that didn’t agree with her.”
“Or maybe it’s something else,” Chase said.
“Like what?”
“I’ve been reading up on things.” Chase jammed his thumb in his waistband. “You know, since it will be Alexandra’s time soon. Humans and goats are different animals, but some qualities among females must be universal. A contracting abdomen and a great deal of moaning being two of those qualities.”
Ashbury wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Chase, what the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying I think Marigold is preparing to give birth.”
Gabe smacked his gloves against his thigh. “Damn it, I knew it. I knew this goat was breeding.”
Ashbury braced his hands on his hips. “She’s been too free with her favors, eh? The scarlet strumpet.”
“Watch yourself,” Gabe snapped. “Marigold’s not that kind of goat.”
“Yes, let’s not shame the poor girl,” Chase added. “Perhaps it was star-crossed love.”
“Bringing this back to reality for a moment, if you don’t mind,” Gabe said. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”
“We definitely can’t move her in this state,” Ashbury said.
“Don’t animals know what to do on their own?” Chase asked. “It’s instinct. All we need to do is wait.”
And so they waited.
And waited.
After what felt like hours, Gabe paced the stall back and forth. “Should she really be making that noise?”
Ashbury shrugged. “Have you ever heard a woman in her labors?”
“No,” Gabe cautiously replied.
“I regret to inform you, it doesn’t sound much different than this.”
“Why are you telling me these things?” Chase complained.
“That’s it,” Gabe said. “I’m sending for a veterinarian. Two of them. Three. We’ll wait on their advice.”
And so they waited.
And waited.
After what felt like hours, no veterinarian had appeared.
Marigold braced her head against the side of her stall, pawing the ground and bleating. Her tail lifted.
“Hold a moment. I think something’s happening.” Gabe beckoned to the other two. “One of you should look.”
“You do it, Ash,” Chase said.
“Why me?”
“Because your wife’s given birth. You said that you were there.”
“I said I heard it. I didn’t look.”
Chase rose to his feet and went to the hind end of the goat. “I’ll look. I’m not afraid. I intend to be there for every moment of the miracle of my own child’s birth.” He crouched and squinted. “And … I’ve changed my mind.”
Chase retreated to the far corner of the stall and sat on a crate, his pallor having turned a pale, sickly green.
“Fine,” Ashbury said. “I’ll do it. If I could stomach my own injuries from that rocket blast, I can stomach this.” He went to look, then reeled a step backward. “Oh, God. Something’s coming out.”
“Of course something’s coming out,” Gabe said. “A baby goat.”
“No,” Ash said grimly. “No.”
“If it’s not a goat, then what is it?”
“It’s a punishment for all my earthly sins, is what it is.”
“Describe it,” Chase said. “I’ve done my research. What does it look like?”
“Picture a soap bubble,” Ashbury said slowly. “Then picture a soap bubble blown in Hell, by a demon with a phlegmy cold.”
Chase doubled over. “I think I just vomited in my mouth.”
“Maybe it’s the placenta,” Ashbury suggested.
“Ash, you idiot.” Chase had his head between his knees. “The placenta comes after. That’s why they call it the afterbirth. Didn’t you do any reading when Emma was pregnant?”
“Yes. I did all sorts of reading. I read every other type of book to take my mind off the entire affair.”
“Rather cowardly, Ashbury.”
“Yes, and you’re an exemplar of courage over there, heaving your luncheon into a milk pail. Reading about it does nothing but tell you everything that can go wrong. I didn’t need that. I could imagine too many things going wrong on my own.”
“Thank God one of us prepared.” Gathering himself, Chase wiped his brow with his sleeve. “That thing you’re seeing is no doubt
