Ross takes the gown with a grateful smile, waiting until they're alone in the room before he shifts his attention back to Demelza. It's quiet in here, a bit cold and unwelcoming, so he sets the gown down for a moment to sit down beside his wife on the bed and wrap her in his arms. "You're alright?" he asks, pressing a kiss to her hair before leaning back to get a better look at her, offering a small but reassuring smile. "Of course you are. We'll hold our second child in our arms soon enough, and it'll be worth all of this, won't it?"

He gets back up then, holding out a hand for Demelza to take so he can help her begin to undress. It's not unfamiliar, he's well-acquainted with what it takes to undo the ties of her dress, to slip the sleeves from her shoulders to reveal fair skin only he's ever had the privilege of touching. Today, especially, he goes about the task with reverence, not trying to ignite any heat between them but moving slowly all the same, taking care to make sure Demelza understands that he will be here for her through this, for as long as she wants him by her side.

"Next time," he says, his tone taking on a moderately sharp edge, "you won't be leaving flowers at graves so close to when you're meant to give birth to our child." Next time, he thinks, nearly laughing because he can't imagine having yet another son or daughter in their lives so soon after this one, and Ross suspects Demelza wouldn't be keen on that, either. Still yet, his point remains the same. "And when we're sent home, you're to take care of yourself, are we agreed? You're to rest, not run yourself ragged, no matter how tiresome you find it to sit still."