A/N: Hello, my lovelies! Thank you for being so patient.

Note: Placage is a system of common law marriage (essentially) where wealthy white men were placed with quardroon mistresses. These women and the children born of the union were provided for a legal family would be, though the women were not the men's legal wives. If that makes sense.

Edward woke out of a sound sleep when Bella made a disgruntled sound, throwing her side of the bed's blankets on top of him. He watched her with sleepy eyes. The candle by her side of the bed was lit, so she must have just come from one of many trips she took each night to relieve her bladder. Even in the low candlelight, he could see her face was flushed.

As the temperature rose and her belly grew, Bella was more and more uncomfortable.

He shifted, sitting up in bed, and she looked over. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Are you sure you don't have a fever?" he asked worriedly, cupping his hand against her hot cheek.

She smiled at him patiently. "No fever. The night is warm, and your son insists on making matters worse."

"Hmmm," Edward hummed. Taking her hands, he helped her to sit upright and began pulling her nightgown over her head.

"Edward," she protested when she figured out what he was doing.

"Hush, love," he said gently. "I'm trying to cool you down. No more."

She sighed, letting him slip the gown off. "I am surprised you want to touch me at all," she said moodily. "I am so big..."

Edward shook his head as he crossed to the wash basin, dipping a clean cloth in water before he returned to her side. He sat on the edge of the bed, beginning to run the cool cloth across her forehead and cheeks. "Are you mad?" he asked without malice. "Do you have any idea what it's taken for me not to touch you these last weeks?"

In the low light, he could see her confusion. "I thought you found me grotesque."

He laughed, incredulous. "Bella. No. Never." Again he stood, this time pouring a bit of water into the cup by the nightstand before he returned to her. Wetting the towel again, he continued to cool her neck, her shoulders. "You are lovelier now more than ever."

"You are trying to make me feel better," she accused, but there was a smile to her voice.

Leaning forward to tease her lips with his own, he brought the cool towel over her breast, purposefully brushing her nipple. She sucked in a breath. "I thought it more polite not to bother you," he murmured as he painted her skin with light kisses down her neck. "You are always beautiful to me."

She leaned in, kissing him with intent. Pleasantly surprised, Edward kissed her back. He hadn't been lying. Not touching her had been its own form of torture.

He pulled back slightly when she began to tug at his night shirt. "Bella... is this... are you..."

Her expression was uncertain. "If you don't want-"

He laughed. "I do want. I want very much." He stroked her full belly lovingly. "I just don't want to hurt you or the baby, or make you uncomfortable."

She tilted her head at him curiously. "I'm ungainly but not fragile." Her expression turned shy. "Perhaps if we... um..." She shifted, getting on her knees and turning away from him. She looked back over her shoulder, and he didn't think her flushed face had anything to do with the heat at that point. "Like this?"

Edward stifled a groan, allured at the prospect she presented. He'd never been given an option before. He swallowed hard. "Are you positive?"

"If you want me," she said softly.

He ran his hand along the line of her side, his eyes taking in her body. He'd thought he had a complete list of his wife's most enticing attributes. He had seriously neglected noticing how very shapely her backside was.

Brushing her hair off one shoulder, he kissed her there. "I always want you," he said against her ear, reaching around her to cup her breasts. "No one but you." He kissed her neck. "But I thought you were too hot."

She reached one hand back, threading her fingers through his hair. "Then you will have to distract me," she said breathlessly.

He growled against the spot where her neck met her shoulders. "That I can do, my beautiful girl."

~0~

Edward sat at his desk, humming as he looked over the estimates for renovating the old apartment building he'd purchased.

"Pardon, sir," Seth said as he came to the door.

"Ah, Seth. What can I do for you?" Edward asked amiably. He was in a very good mood.

"There's an errand boy at the door for you, sir. He says he needs to speak with you about the newspaper."

"You may as well ready a horse and buggy for me, Seth. I've a feeling I'm going to be making a trip downtown shortly."

~0~

Edwards suspicions were confirmed, and he found himself at the newspaper office just half an hour after a newsboy had been sent to summon him. He walked into a full-on fight in the manager's office.

Alistair Franklin was glaring across his desk at the editor-in-chief, Randall Daley, and one of the reporters, Liam Gallagher.

"What's going on?" he asked, stepping into the room.

The men rose, making slight, polite bows at him.

"Mr. Cullen. Please tell me what Mr. Daley claims isn't true."

"You'll have to be more specific, sir," Edward said calmly as he hung his hat and cloak.

"He's referring to the fact you suggested my boys find out what they could about our aspiring politicians," Randall inserted mildly.

"Ah." Edward nodded. "And there is some problem?"

Liam stood then and proffered Edward his notebook. A name caught his eye almost instantly.

James Hunter.

Reading on, Edward's eyebrows shot up.

He had suspected a thorough investigation into James's affairs would not come up empty handed, but he had not suspected this. It appeared Victoria was not James's only wife, though she was, perhaps, the only one who could legitimately claim that title.

James had a placage wife in New Orleans from before the war, a union which had borne him three illegitimate children. And in a quiet corner of Delaware was an Irish woman who thought she was his only wife. That union had produced two further children.

Edward swallowed hard, feeling the contents of his stomach roil sickeningly.

"Don't you see, Mr. Cullen? It's madness to consider printing this information."

"Madness?" Edward raised his eyes to look on Alistair calmly.

"It's uncivilized to air the dirty laundry of our gentry." Alistair looked decidedly uncomfortable. "A man has his needs, after all. Are we to punish one of our decorated soldiers for indulging?"

"Indulging?" Randall scoffed. "Sir, I'm not sure how you can excuse this kind of behavior. It's one thing for a man to have a mistress, quite another for him to have not one but three wives."

"Perhaps it is in poor taste-"

"Poor taste?" Edward interrupted. "Mr. Franklin, this is not only in poor taste, it goes against the law of the country as well as the law of God Himself."

Alistair grimaced.

It wasn't as though Edward didn't understand the elder man's discomfort. They were a society who preached piety and yet turned a blind eye to the hypocrisy happening right under their noses. Edward knew that, as a man who was faithful to his wife, he was in the minority, and there was a reason why the streets were teeming with bastard children. They had to belong to someone.

The tendency, especially amongst the upper class, was to ignore such indiscretions so long as they were not committed in plain sight. But irrefutable evidence such as Liam had gathered - and the lad had been quite thorough - could not be swept under the carpet.

The article would destroy James's reputation, irrevocably crippling his ability to go into politics. Wives would direct their husbands that he was unwelcome in their homes for dinner, leaving him unable to socialize with the right people.

"Gentlemen, please. I implore you to see reason," Alistair tried. "These are very uncertain times. A scandal amongst our governing bodies is the last thing we need."

"Perhaps, but Mr. Hunter is not a member of our governing body just yet, and therein lies the difference." Edward tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Let us all be plain - I'm well aware that if we go looking for shadows, there are plenty to be found, even amongst our dearest friends and neighbors.

"That being said, we are also in a time of rebuilding. We have a chance to be a stronger city and, in turn, a stronger nation." He spread his hands, as if imploring understanding. "In this time, don't you think it is our responsibility to see that men of pristine character are elected into office?"

"Haven't I told you for years, Alistair? A newsman's job is not to report what is comfortable but what is truth," Randall added. "We are not priests sworn to keep sins in the darkness of our confessionals."

"No, but nor do we have to drag those sins from the confessional and splash them about in bold typeface." Alistair wrung his hands. "It is uncouth, and I will not be party to it." He turned to Edward. "Mr. Cullen, really. Is this what you wish your business to accomplish? To drag a soldier not unlike yourself through the mud?"

"Under the circumstances, I don't take kindly to being compared to James Hunter in any light," Edward said somewhat hotly. He breathed in through his nose. "I'm sorry, Mr. Franklin, but I am behind Mr. Daley. I will leave the reports of pretty, easy things to the Ladies Home Journal."

Alistair hung his head, his hands flexing into fists on the desktop. "You are a very young man, Mr. Cullen," he began when he lifted his head again. "And young men are prone to vehemently championing righteous causes without considering the ramifications of their actions. Have you considered, sir, what will happen to goodly Mrs. Hunter and the children?"

Edward felt as though he'd been struck. His cheek twitched as he considered the scenario he'd been ignoring.

Were he to let this story come to light, Victoria, Riley, and Bree would be ostracized right along with their husband and father. Victoria would lose all her lady friends. The children would not be invited to parties and would be shunned.

As a soldier, collateral damage wasn't an idea he was unused to, but that didn't make the reality easy to bear.

Swallowing hard past the lump in his throat, Edward's tone had lost quite a bit of fervor when he spoke again. "It is unfortunate that Mr. Hunter made the choices he did, choosing a path that could ultimately shame his family. I understand that running this story is not without consequence, and that will be a burden on my shoulders. But I shall have to stick to my original decision. What will befall Mrs. Hunter and their children is regrettable, but then, it would be more regrettable to have a man of Mr. Hunter's character in charge of the laws that govern us all."

He held Alistair's gaze without wavering for several long, heavy moments.

The elder man sighed and nodded. He stood. "Very well." He glanced at the other two men, nodding at them in turn. "Mr. Daley, Mr. Gallagher, despite our differences, it has been my pleasure to work with you both." He turned to Edward, holding his head high. "Mr. Cullen, I will see to it that you find my letter of resignation in your possession promptly."

"Mr. Franklin-" Edward began to protest, but the man held his hand out, stopping his words.

"Sir, a gentleman knows when he's outstayed his welcome," Alistair said bluntly. "Your father was a good man, and I was privileged to know him and in turn to work, however briefly, with you. But I feel that this world is changing perhaps too quickly than I can keep up with and what good I can do has been done. Please believe that I say with the utmost sincerity, good luck to you, sir, and may your quest for the right prove worthwhile."

With that, the distinguished gentleman bowed and strode from the room, leaving the other three gaping after him.

Edward breathed in deep, not speaking until he was sure his voice would be steady. "Mr. Gallagher, how soon until you can have an article ready?"

"Tonight, if I push through the day, sir," Liam answered.

"There is no hurry. I want you to be thorough." He turned to look at both men to assure himself he was being taken seriously. He was. "Mr. Daley, after you have proofed Mr. Gallagher's article, I would appreciate if you get me a copy straight away. Is that possible?"

"Of course, sir," Randall said, nodding.

"Good. Then I expect this story to print no longer than two days hence."

~0~

Edward knew well enough the dangers of drinking on an empty stomach. Despite that he knew he would only suffer for it later, he'd refused the cook's offer of lunch. He wasn't even remotely hungry, but the burn of whiskey on his tongue and down his throat was much more welcome. was was the blur of his unforgiving thoughts.

When his mother frowned at him, Edward retreated to his study. There, his dark mood only deepened, as he heard the voice of his father from so many years before.

He was eight or nine - still a boy, but capable of deeper thought than he had been at five. Boys his age were always eager to be grown, and Edward was no exception.

He sat at the desk as his tutor had directed, doing his figures under his father's watchful eye. Edward was good at math, but it took his tutor or his father standing over him to get through his work, tiresome as it was.

Bored, he chanced a glance up, watching Carlisle page through a medical journal. Even at nine, he felt as though adulthood were rapidly approaching. At least, he wished it would get there sooner. He thought it was high time he chose a profession.

"Father?"

"Son," Carlisle returned, looking up attentively.

"Why did you want to be a doctor?"

Carlisle put his book down, his expression thoughtful. "Many reasons. It gives me happiness to be able to help people. The mindset suits me, I suppose. On a sick bed, all are equal. It matters not if my patient is a beloved friend or the most vile criminal, my oath is to heal, and harm none."

As the memory faded away, Edward hunkered down in his father's chair, a great shame weighing heavily on his shoulders, making his heart ache so bad, no amount of alcohol could dull the pain.

Gnashing his teeth, he took another long drink, trying anyway. He laid his head on the desk, his mood dour.

A quiet sigh drew him out of his misery. Edward did not look up, knowing he couldn't bear the sight of Bella's irritation or disappointment. He was drunk, and he knew it. If he thought he could speak without growling, he would have told her to leave him be. She didn't need to deal with him today.

But the sound of her skirts brushing along the floor told him she was coming in anyway. He felt her presence beside him and, a moment later, her hand in his hair.

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" she asked quietly, her tone not irritated but tender.

He shook his head.

Again, she sighed.

With soft but firm fingers, she pried the decanter of whiskey from his hands and set it to the side, out of his reach. "Stand up, Edward," she directed, her tone still gentle but something told him it would be unwise to argue.

Obedient, Edward stood and instantly stumbled forward, out of balance. He caught himself on the edge of the desk.

Bella said nothing but slipped her arm around his waist.

"You should not be supporting me," he grumbled, trying to keep his weight off her.

"Oh, somehow I shall survive," she said lightly, drawing him forward.

They didn't speak again until she'd gotten him to their room. There, she sat him down on the couch and sat beside him, taking his hands. "You're hurting, and I don't know why," she said simply. "Please let me help you."

Edward closed his eyes tightly and slumped. He laid his head against her shoulder, breathing her in. Her scent, her presence, always soothed him, and he did feel slightly better when she wrapped her arm around him. "My father would be ashamed of me," he admitted against her skin.

"Tell me," she implored, stroking his hair.

So Edward told her what he'd done and what Liam Gallagher had found.

"This is wrong," he rumbled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "My father never would have let this happen. He would have protected Mrs. Hunter and the children at all costs."

"And what of the other women involved and those children?" Bella asked, her fingers warm on his neck. "Who would speak for them?"

Edward was silent.

"It is a sad thing, what will happen to Victoria and the children," she continued. "I know you feel responsible, but you are not. James made those choices." She paused a moment, her hand finding his cheek. "And I know something of being a wife whose husband is talked about behind closed doors. It is survivable."

Edward raised his head. Taking her hands, he brought her knuckles to his lips, lingering there a moment. "You really have no idea how strong you are, do you?" he said wryly. "And I asked your permission - do you remember? I asked you before I embarked on this... whatever it is I'm doing."

"And it's not the same at all. You would never do to me what he's done to her," she agreed.

"No. No I would not. Not ever."

For seconds, they were both silent before Bella spoke again. "It's not an easy decision, husband mine. I think you are very brave."

"Ruining lives is not a brave thing."

"Is it not? You fought a war that tore apart so many lives, your own included. I'm sure the men who began these wars didn't want to hurt women and children, but they did." She sighed. "Right and wrong in this world of ours, it's not so easy to determine. And yes, sometimes the right decision will hurt the wrong people."

"My father-" he began, but she cut him off.

"You make your father out to be a saint, but I assure you, he was not. Not even the goodly Carlisle Cullen could find a solution to this particular problem, I'd wager. At least not one that hurt no one but James himself."

Edward scoffed. "My father would find a solution that didn't even hurt James," he mumbled, perhaps a little petulantly.

"Your father would be proud of you." She cupped his face, tilting his head toward her so he could see her eyes. "I'm proud of you, and I'm proud to be your wife."

Straightening, he kissed her softly, letting her caresses sooth him further. "I'm trying to be a good man," he whispered near her ear.

"You are a good man." She guided his hand to her belly, pressing his palm so he could feel their baby move. At that, he smiled. "Our son? He'll look on you exactly how you looked on your father. You will be his hero."

Edward sat up straighter, kissing the edge of her jaw, her cheek, her hairline. He was feeling tired, the alcohol and the calm she'd brought him urging him toward sleep. He kept his hands against her belly for long moments, letting himself imagine the picture she painted.

"Do you think he's a Carlisle?" Bella asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject as she put her hands over his.

"Hmmm," Edward hummed, considering that.

She was always so considerate of how much he missed his father, but she had lost her father as well..

"No," he decided. "A Charles, I think. Charles Carlisle, perhaps?"

Her grin was wide and, he thought her eyes might have been a little teary. "That would please me."

He smiled, feeling better that he'd made her happy. He could still do that, at least.

When he tried to kiss her again, he missed.

Bella laughed and pushed herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the arm of the sofa. "Come, Edward. How about a nap?"

"You just woke from a nap, didn't you?" he mumbled, trying to remember.

"You're always bothering me to lay down."

"You should. You make my back ache just to look at you," he insisted. She was such a small woman, and the burden she carried very large in comparison.

"Well, I shall then."

"Good. Yes. Lay down."

Patiently, she laid down, tugging on his hands until he remembered he was supposed to be laying down with her.

"I do love you, Bella," he whispered as he was drifting off.

"I know. I love you, too."

A/N: Thanks to Shug for beta work. Thanks to barburella for ... being barburella. And thanks to all of you for making this worthwhile!