Looking at his slackjawed expression, Whit felt the twinges of sympathy, of how she'd acted the whole day and night after the doctor's news, and moved to pick up the as-yet-emptied wine glass that was his, passing it to him and making certain his fingers were secure around it. Once she had, she retreated again, but this time to keep speaking without the hesitance that had come before. The news was out, she'd killed his gut reaction in it's tracks and now she could focus on reassuring them both – or at least him.
"This isn't going to be a problem. Other than you and me, no one knows the paternity of this child. It won't affect your standing in the company or your public image. Any necessary paperwork can go without your information, or I'll pay off someone to keep the documents locked down."
Inhaling, she let out the breath twice as fast. "I'm the irresponsible de Winter daughter," she said, the bitterness there very faintly, "they won't be surprised I got myself knocked up, and even if my dear father persists in wanting to know who, I won't tell him. And my mother..."
That thought best left for later, she continued. "I'm financially stable in my own right, even without the greater family fortune. I'll take care of everything, Phillip."