Chapter Forty-Nine

Harry was getting home late. He didn't like getting home late. Between his Foreign Intelligence work and his royal duties, he was out of the house far too much as it was. He had a wife and a baby daughter at home, and he wanted to see them.

Ruth was in her last week of maternity leave, such as it was. Emmy was sleeping through the night and adhering to a schedule, thankfully, so Ruth was at last able to get some proper rest. Sam was eager to schedule things for the crown princess; she'd been out of the public eye for almost four months, aside from posing for press photos that first day of Emilia's life. Since then, she'd been getting used to being a mother. Harry had done all he could to help her at home and take on all those royal things they both hated so much. He was gladder than he could say that he'd get to go back to focusing on his actual job. He knew his days with the army were numbered; he'd already accepted that he'd not get to do anything except the royal nonsense once Ruth became queen. And if he had to give it up sooner than that, he'd come to terms with it. But for now, he'd cling to it as much as he could.

Unfortunately, it was not the work itself that had kept him late today. He spoke with Zoe every day at four o'clock. The conversation went a little long today, as this marked the end of one full week for Graham at the rehabilitation center.

After the arrest when Ruth had gone to speak with him, he'd promised to stay sober for a whole month. Ruth had told Harry all of this later and dealt with his rather explosive rage rather well. Then again, she always seemed to deal with him quite well. And it was best, he had to admit, that he hadn't been told about the incident right away. Ruth did the best possible thing under the circumstances, and Harry was pleased about that.

But Graham, of course, was far too clever for them all. Despite Zoe keeping a close watch on him, he'd tricked her into thinking he'd been keeping away from alcohol for a whole month. And then on the last day of that month, he had called Leister to speak to Ruth. He confessed that he'd been sneaking a drink here and there. After three days, he'd been going out of his mind without a drink. And he'd snuck around and he couldn't give it up. He had called Ruth to ask for help. She'd told Harry later that Graham had been crying over the phone.

Harry had put Malcolm on it, finding a good facility not too far away that would be discreet. The last thing they needed on top of discovering that Graham Pearce was an alcoholic at age nineteen was to have the press find out. And the next morning, Harry had driven himself—with Zaf following close behind—to the university to pick up his son. Zoe rode with Zaf, and Harry drove Graham out to the country estate that had once belonged to a relative of Ruth's but had since been converted to a rehabilitation center. He would be spending sixty days drying out and finding out how to manage his addiction.

The whole affair had been Harry's sole focus, despite the other duties taking up his time. His mind was on his son, on the difficulties that Harry had spent so long ignoring. Ruth had known. She'd seen, she'd tried to tell him. Harry had just brushed it off. Why hadn't he listened to her sooner? Why hadn't he allowed himself to see that Graham was suffering? Harry hadn't been a good father a single day of that boy's life, and he was paying for it now. They all were. He'd thought he was doing better, had grown and changed and figured out how to be a better parent. Perhaps he'd just kidded himself.

And, of course, now that he was a father once again, he was terrified of failing Emilia the same way he'd failed Graham. Catherine seemed to have turned out alright, but he'd probably screwed her up some other way.

These depressing thoughts of failed fatherhood filled Harry's mind as Zaf drove him home from the capital. He'd go home and give a kiss to Ruth and to Emmy and have dinner with his wife and everything would surely be alright. Of course, by the time Harry got out of the car, it had started snowing. He grumbled as he hurried up the front steps and inside. Harry did not enjoy the snow. Cold and bloody inconvenient.

His bad mood persisted as he went straight up to Emilia's nursery. She'd cheer him up, surely. That funny little blonde thing. Her eyes were just like her mother's, but so much of her was all him. It was incredible, actually. Harry hadn't imagined his features would make for a pretty little girl, but he thought she was the most beautiful child he'd ever seen. Well, he was biased, of course. Which reminded him, he'd have to talk to the king to get his help convincing Ruth that royal photographs for the baby's first birthday were a good idea. They didn't want her splashed all over the newspapers, but one picture couldn't hurt. The people should get to see their future queen, Emilia Fiona Mary Louisa. And Harry would be proud to show off his perfect child.

When he got upstairs to the nursery, he found Ruth sitting in the chair where she normally sat to feed the baby, rocking back and forth listlessly. Emilia was in her crib, fast asleep. Ruth didn't speak or seem to even notice when Harry entered the room.

"Everything alright?" he asked quietly, not wanting to wake the baby.

Ruth turned her head to look at him. He saw instantly that her eyes were bloodshot and her face was a bit red and puffy. She'd been crying.

He crossed over to her and took her hands, pulling her up from the chair. "Come along, let's let her sleep. I want to talk to you."

She followed where he led, back down the hall to their suite. Harry put Ruth on one end of the sofa and sat down beside her. Her clothes were rumpled, but at least she was wearing proper clothes. She'd been too overwhelmed to even get changed out of her pajamas some days. Today, she was wearing a long dark skirt and a simple blue top and matching cardigan. Her hair was a bit greasy and hanging around her face in lank tendrils. Harry reached over to brush it back behind her ear. Maybe he could convince her to take a shower with him later so he could wash it for her.

"What's wrong, Ruth?" He tried to keep his voice soft and gentle.

Ruth gave a huff and shook her head. Obviously she was in that sort of mood, frustrated with herself for her own feelings. The hormones had been difficult on her, feeling a bit insane and being smart enough to understand that she was losing her mind.

"Hmm?" he pressed.

"No, you…you first. How was your day?" she asked. Ruth turned to face him, curling her legs beneath her on the sofa. She reached out and softly brushed her fingers down his uniform. Wasn't often he got to wear it anymore, needing to be in a suit for his royal appearances.

"Nothing too interesting to report. But I spoke for a while to Zoe this afternoon. That's why I'm a bit late."

Ruth's brow furrowed, likely internally chiding herself for not even noticing that he was late. "How's Graham?" she asked warily.

"Settling well, by all accounts. He had a hard few days, as we know, with the detoxifying. He's been rather ill as his body readjusts to being without alcohol."

Tears welled up in Ruth's eyes and she blinked them back. "I can't believe it got so bad. How did we not know?"

Ruth did know, and they both knew it. But Harry did not want to open that conversation again. "He's getting the help he needs now, and that's what matters." He was also missing two months of school, and his courses would not wait for him. He'd have to make some very difficult decisions when he came home after his treatment. But again, a problem for another time.

After a quiet moment with Ruth staring at her hands fidgeting in her lap, she finally spoke. "I spoke to Doctor Parkins today."

"Oh that's right, I'd forgotten. What did she say? Is the nausea normal for being twelve weeks out from giving birth?"

"No, actually. She examined me and found everything in order. And she gave Emmy a perfect bill of health," Ruth added, smiling.

Harry tried to smile, but knowing that Ruth's illness wasn't normal was distressing. "What about you?"

Ruth sighed heavily and pressed on. "I told her how I'd been feeling, and she wanted to do some bloodwork. Expedited, since it's me. And then she called this afternoon with the results."

"And?"

"God, I can't even believe it but…Harry, I'm pregnant."

That news hit him like a pile of bricks. He'd not even considered that it was possible. It wasn't as though they were trying. And they'd had such difficulties conceiving Emmy. How could Ruth be pregnant again!?

Harry didn't say anything. He just whimpered quietly. Christ, he was going to be a father of four. After all the mess he'd caused his children already. He was bringing another into the world. Bloody hell, this was what he got for having unprotected sex with his wife. He was forty-six and she'd just given birth, this shouldn't have been possible! But of course it was. Rare and unlikely but certainly possible. And here they were.

And god, poor Ruth! She'd had a devil of a time being pregnant and giving birth the first time. She'd be breastfeeding for two years straight or something horrifying like that. He'd done this to her. He'd need to figure out how to apologize. How to thank her. How to…well, he needed to figure out what the hell they were going to do!

Ruth continued, "Doctor Parkins said I'm just past five weeks along. Which makes me think that we might have conceived that first time we made love after Emmy was born. It feels a little ridiculous, we worked so hard for her, now this one gets dropped in our laps on the first go. Or rather in my womb instead of our laps. I should have thought, I'm sorry, Harry."

"Sorry?" he repeated numbly.

"We barely wanted one baby, and now we're going to have two. I know you didn't want this."

"Stop that," he snapped.

She was taken aback. "What?"

"Don't ever say I don't want this. Any of it. That baby is going to be just as perfect and loved and adored as the one we've got down the hall. We might not have planned on two children, but unplanned is not unwanted. You are an incredible mother, Ruth, and you will be for this next one, too. And I'll…well, I don't know what I'll do, but anything you need from me, I'll give. Anything at all." Harry took Ruth's hand from her lap and squeezed it affectionately. "But I think we will have one difficulty with the situation," he realized.

"What's that?" she asked nervously.

"We used up all the names with the first baby. What if we have another girl? What are we going to call her?"

Ruth started to laugh, which was Harry's intent, and the tears fell down her cheeks. She leaned forward and threw her arms around Harry's neck. "I love you," she whispered.

Harry smiled and hugged her tight. "I love you, too." And he meant it. Both for Ruth and the new unborn baby growing inside her.