Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

"I know," Mary murmured, her hand resting protectively on her belly. "But... what if, after he's born, he isn't recognized as Ferdinand's child?"

Not Ferdinand's child?

Briony's gaze sharpened, trying to read Mary's intent. "What are you saying?"

Mary met her eyes steadily. "Briony, I've been having nightmares lately." She changed the subject so abruptly that Briony's brows knitted in concern.

"I keep dreaming I'll die in childbirth," Mary whispered, “and Ferdinand dies too." Briony pressed her lips together, silent for a moment.

She remembered when she was pregnant with the twins-how nightmares plagued her, too. The dark visions always seemed to foreshadow something awful. Later, when she delivered early and nearly bled out, the bloody chaos was eerily similar to what she'd seen in her dreams.

Maybe it was a mother's sixth sense.

Was Mary's nightmare another warning? A mother's gut instinct?

If Ferdinand died, would that mean Stewart's people had finally succeeded? That would be a good thing... for everyone else.

But what about Mary? So blameless in all of this.

Briony didn't want Mary's fate to mirror her dreams. Mary had only loved the wrong man; she wasn't lost beyond hope. And the child she was carrying-the child was entirely innocent.

his own; neither Mary nor her baby should have

to comfort her. "Pregnancy makes dreams more vivid, especially if you're stressed. Try not to read

bittersweet understanding. "Briony, you

women who'd survived unhappy

I know you've been through things I can't even imagine. I misjudged you before and said some things I regret. I hope you won't hold them against me. I've always thought you were brave, but with Ferdinand... you lost yourself in him. Still, you and your baby are innocent. Ferdinand's sins are his

glistening with something unspoken. "Briony,

need for more

was a good

away from Ferdinand, maybe there was still hope

was to wait for

Briony was just about to drift off when the bedroom door

at

down on the edge

of whiskey

against the back of her neck, pulling her sharply toward

what are