Where could she even begin? There was a reason she'd never been honest with her husband about why all of her pregnancies, with the exception of Oliver and the girl she was carrying when Rodolphus tripped her down the stairs, mysteriously failed. He'd been so patient, so concerned after each miscarriage. Even in his own disappointment and grief he'd always managed to put her first. How could she tell him that she was the reason his hopes and dreams for a larger family never came true?