Summary: Thrilled with the news of her pregnancy, Savannah can’t wait to tell Bertrand the news.
Savannah bounced anxiously on the balls of her feet as she surveyed the ballroom at Beaumont Manor. Bertrand was hosting the party; he had to be around here somewhere. The party hadn’t even officially kicked off yet and still the room was packed with people, anxiously buzzing about what sort of surprises the Beaumonts had planned for them. However, this time, she had a surprise of her own. Savannah smiled at the thought of the tiny life inside her. It’d been a month since she’d last seen Bertrand, since the night they’d been together. He’d left immediately afterwards on state business and tonight’s party was supposed to celebrate his and Maxwell’s return. Savannah couldn’t wait to talk to him. She’d only found out about the baby a few days ago, but she felt certain Bertrand would be happy.
Wouldn’t he?
“What’s with you?”
Savannah turned to see Drake looking at her strangely as he watched her.
“Nothing, I’m just excited,” she said. “I love parties.”
Drake snorted.
“Are you sure we’re related?” he asked.
“Oh, come on, Drake,” Savannah said. “Being at court isn’t as bad as you think it is.”
“I love you, little sister, but you can be so naive,” Drake said, surveying the room. Savannah narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing. “Have you eaten yet? You should probably hit the buffet before this thing really gets going.”
The thought of food instantly made her feel queasy and Savannah forced the thoughts of food out of her mind.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly.
“Are you sure? You don’t look very good,” Drake said as he studied her.
“Thanks a lot, Drake,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“You know what I mean,” he said. “Look, just–at least drink some water, okay?”
Savannah promised she would and watched her brother skirt the perimeter of the room, swallowed by the crowd. Drake had never felt like he belonged here, but maybe the baby would change that. If Drake were related to a noble, maybe he wouldn’t feel like such an outsider. Savannah smiled and resisted the urge to put a hand on her stomach. She couldn’t wait to find out if it was a boy or a girl. Bertrand would probably love a boy to carry on the Beaumont name, but she found the idea of a little ballerina irresistible.
Finally, she saw him. Bertrand bustled into the room, looking harried.
“Bertrand!” she called as she crossed the room towards him, an excited grin flooding her face. “I need to talk to you.”
“Savannah, hi,” he said, the ends of his mouth barely twitching upwards. “Can it wait? I have to–”
“No, it’s really important,” she insisted. “I have to talk to you now.”
Bertrand gave an exasperated sigh and looked around.
“Have you seen Maxwell?” he asked.
“Maxwell? No, I–”
“I have to find him,” Bertrand said.
“This will only take a minute,” she promised. Bertrand looked into her face and softened a little.
“Okay,” he relented. Bertrand led her into a nearby hallway, constantly checking his watch. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Well,” Savannah said with a smile. “I wanted to talk about what happened at your last party.”
There was a loud crash from the ballroom. Bertrand turned his head back towards the ballroom and checked his watch.
“Good lord, it’s only 8:30 and we haven’t even officially kicked things off,” he muttered.
“Bertrand, I’m trying to talk to you about us,” Savannah said.
“I know, I’m sorry, this just isn’t really a great time right now,” he said.
“But I’m trying to tell you I want to be with you!” she exclaimed. “Didn’t that night mean anything to you?”
“Of course it did, but–” Bertrand’s sentence was cut off by another crash. “Look, I can’t do this,” he said, gesturing between them. “I have to go, I’m sorry.” With that, he turned and hurried away into the ballroom, leaving Savannah alone in the hallway.
“I can’t do this.”
The words seemed to echo in Savannah’s head and the weight of them crashed down upon her. She leaned against the wall, her hands on her still flat stomach as she slid to the floor. It had never occurred to her that Bertrand wouldn’t want to be with her. After what they’d shared … oh god, Drake was right. She was naive. Savannah felt so stupid for thinking she could be a part of this world, could be one of them. She was an outsider, always would be. The tears fell freely down her face, splashing onto the front of her gown as sobs wracked her body. Was it possible to cry so hard that she’d hurt the baby? Oh god, the baby! If Bertrand didn’t want to be with her, then he’d certainly want nothing to do with their child.
She’d have to leave. It was the only solution. But how? Savannah and Drake lived on the fringes of a lavish lifestyle, but they didn’t really have one of their own. How was she going to take care of a baby on her own?
“Savannah?”
Savannah turned up her tearstained face and saw Maxwell standing nearby, concern etched in every line of his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling down beside her.
“Maxwell … I need help.”
As Bertrand hurried into the ballroom to find out the source of the crash, Savannah’s words finally sank in.
“I’m trying to tell you I want to be with you!”
He smiled, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in his chest. Could she mean it? Could it be true? Bertrand had never thought Savannah would even look his way, let alone want to be with him. In the month that he’d been gone, he’d thought of almost nothing but her the whole time. Her smile, her laugh, the sound of her voice whispering his name–this could be it, the moment he’d wished for all these years. Once he got this ridiculous party kicked off, Bertrand would find her and they’d talk. He couldn’t wait.
