Two days passed. Molly had all but shut herself up in her tent, feeling sick to her stomach, and the cold did nothing to help. She cancelled all meetings with her clientele and huddled on her cot, covered in blankets. Molly managed a bath but kept the water lukewarm. Even so, the water was soothing and she was able to relax for a short while before abandoning the bath and returning to her cot, shuddering and holding herself.

Tavington, who had been rebuffed by Molly along with the other men she serviced, grew impatient and anxious in his tent. He knew she was unwell, and the worst had crossed his mind; still, she had sent news that she was on the mend and she was more than capable of taking care of herself. To admit that he cared for her would have embarrassed William, but he had enough feeling for Molly to be concerned for her wellbeing.

Waiting no longer, Tavington left and made his way to Molly's tent, softly calling her name from outside.

"You may come in, Colonel…" her voice was strained.

Colonel Tavington ducked inside and found Molly hunched over on a corner of her cot, grasping a blanket around her. He raised a brow and sat down next to her on the cot.

"Molly…" he murmured, caressing the side of her face. "You look terrible."

Molly managed a smile, and took his hand in hers.

"I've felt worse, William. This isn't even that bad."

Tavington frowned, unconvinced.

"Have you seen the doctor again?"

"Really, there is nothing he can do. I'll be better without him."

Tavington made to protest, but Molly cut him off.

"William please, just sit with me," she implored, lightly tugging at his cravat.

Tavington pulled Molly to him and she rested against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, gently kissing the back of her neck. Molly whimpered softly and the colonel continued his ministrations, sliding a hand under the blanket and over her breasts, kneading them. Molly gave a sharp inhale and twisted away, leaving Tavington in another state of confusion, staring at her blankly.

"What happened," he asked.

"Colonel, please… I can't do this. Not now," Molly replied with a pleading note in her voice.

Tavington still held her but his grip loosened.

"What is going on, Molly? You have refused me twice, and you won't see a doctor." he spoke tersely.

Molly looked away, burying her face in her hands, strands of dark hair falling out of her braid.

Tavington took her hands in his and pressed them to his chest, giving her an uncharacteristic imploring look.

The camp follower gave in, taking his hands and pressed them to her belly.

"It's not swollen yet, but in a couple of months, I will be showing," she murmured. There was a spark of excitement dancing in her eyes that was quickly replaced with a dim glaze.

William's gaze turned hard and cold and he released her, turning his back to her on the cot.

"Who is the father? Or have you fucked so many men that you can't tell?" he spoke in a snide, chilling voice.

Molly drew back, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Who is the father, Molly?!" the colonel hissed, facing her, his features tightened with anger.

"William…" Molly shrank and for the first time, a glint of fear showed in her gaze.

"Is it I?!" Tavington demanded.

The camp follower could take his temper no more and raised her voice.

"Yes, William! It is you!"

Tavington fell silent, a mixture of worry, anger, embarrassment and shame in his gaze. Molly looked up at him, tears pooling in her dark eyes.

"I'll leave. You needn't have any part in it," she said in a quiet, choked voice.

Tavington ignored her and remained mute for the next few minutes before he asked, "How far along are you?"

Molly calmed ever so slightly and replied, "Almost two months. I'm sorry, William. I shouldn't have told you; I should have left and let you be."

Tavington frowned and got to his feet.

"I've got to go... you should see a doctor."

The colonel went briefly to his tent, grabbed his satchel and made his way to the stables to see Asmodeus. He found the horse snorting contentedly, munching on fresh hay and didn't mutter a word as he slipped into his stall, sat down and took out his journal.

Winter

I could not have received more startling news. Molly is pregnant. What am I to do? I have no time for a child! I have no time for a family! Not in times of war. She said it would not be my responsibility, but someone is bound to find out. And then what? Am I to be shamed? I think not! Molly will leave. But it would be a shame to see such a good bed go cold. If I let her stay, then what happens? If the child is a boy, then I have an heir, but a bastard. Shame. If the child is a girl, I have no heir and an illegitimate child. Shame. I would be just like my father. I must think things over.

Finishing the entry, William tucked the journal away and leaned against the back of the stall, a troubled look in his eyes while Asmodeus continued to ignore him, turning to his bucket of water.

"Damn it all to hell!" The colonel cursed. He should have known this was going to happen. Tavington had been careless with Molly during their many trysts.

"Now what? Now fucking what?!" He yelled to no one in particular. Asmodeus looked up from his water and cocked his head sideways, grunting in confusion.

"Well you're no help," William snapped at the stallion. Asmodeus looked away and lowered his head; Tavington looked uncomfortably at the Thoroughbred. He had shamed Asmodeus.

Getting up from his sitting position, Tavington approached the sulking stallion and patted him apologetically on the neck.

"I wasn't ready for Molly's news," he admitted. Asmodeus wuffled and butted his master with his nose in playful yet stubborn reassurance.

Col. Tavington shook his head.

"I need more time."