CHAPTER FOUR EXCERPT OF SOPHIE JORDAN’S THE VIRGIN AND THE ROGUE Something was not right. All throughout dinner the sensation, the aching discomfort, only grew. Following dinner, Charlotte excused herself and managed to make it to her bedchamber, where she hastily shed her clothes as though they burned her skin and climbed into bed. It was bad. Terrible. The queasiness was unlike any other time. The symptoms were different. More . . . pronounced. She curled into a ball and dragged the pillow between her legs, hugging it tightly. Usually she endured the twinges of pain until they passed. The slight cramping that was improved by hot water bottles and Nora’s tonic. She would keep to bed for twelve hours until it passed. This was not like that. This did not feel in any way endurable. She was vaguely aware of her bedchamber door opening and closing and footsteps approaching her bed. She inhaled and exhaled in slow, even drags of air, her fingers digging into the soft linen pillowcase. Her sisters’ voices carried to her ears. Even in her current condition, there was no mistaking the agitation in Marian’s voice floating above her. “What did you do, Nora? She…