“Well, this is unexpected,” Emma said in awe.
Thomas angled his head so only Emma could hear his response. “Almost as unexpected as my finding a rather scandalous painting of you hanging in my bedchamber this evening.”
Emma did her best to suppress a smile, but a blush colored her face. “As long as it doesn’t end up hanging in your office.” She turned her attention back to the stairs and watched as Laura and Henry made their slow descent.
“I feared Miss Overby would look as if she were about to faint,” James said gleefully. “But Henry’s the one who actually appears a bit peaked.”
“You knew?” Sophia asked, her mouth dropping open.
“Well, I’m not blind,” James replied. “A bit deaf is all.”
Sophia gave him a quelling glance before she hurried to the bottom of the stairs. The couple was about to make their way in her direction when Henry stopped short. “Mother,” he said as he gave a bow and Laura dipped a curtsy.
“You might have told me,” she scolded gently. “I looked ever the fool in front of my nephews a moment ago,” she added before she pulled Laura into an embrace. “But I forgive you. Such a pleasant surprise.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Laura replied, her gaze briefly darting up the stairs before she returned her attention to those gathered around her. She acknowledged Emma with a nod as Thomas took her hand to his lips. “It’s so good to see you again. And for allowing me to continue to stay at your townhouse.”
“We’ve been at Woodscastle these past few days,” Emma replied. “I do hope you haven’t felt as if we abandoned you.”
Laura blushed, and not only because of the rising heat in the ballroom. “Not at all. My newest commission has kept me quite... involved,” she added as she jerked her head in Henry’s direction. Her gaze once again darted to the stairs. “I must say, I am relieved I made it this far without stumbling.”
“The stairs are intimidating, but...” Sophia’s words faded as her attention went to the next couple standing at the top of the stairs.
To the young man who stood with them.
“The Right Honorable Lord Harrington, the Right Honorable Hannah, the Lady Harrington, and her betrothed, Mr. Graham Wellingham,” the announcer intoned.
The noise in the ballroom died down after a few seconds as the collective attentions of those closest to the stairs were directed to the newcomers. The musicians, having come to the end of a piece, stopped playing. As if in ripples, the remaining attendees ceased their conversations and stared at the descending baroness who was flanked by her son and a very tall man. Another moment passed before murmurs of surprise rode as if on a wave through the crowd and the music and conversations once again resumed in a far more lively manner.
The cluster of family members at the bottom of the stairs stared as Edward, Hannah, and Graham were forced to stop and stand on the last step.
“I see you found my aunt,” Tom said with a nod as he shook Graham’s hand.”
“A few moments after I left your office this morning,” Graham replied with a broad grin as Tom took Hannah’s gloved hand to his lips.
“You look happy,” Victoria said to Hannah as she leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. “And loved,” she added as one of her elegant eyebrows arched.
Hannah nodded. “I am. Is it that obvious?” she asked in a whisper as she lifted a hand to her reddened cheek. She would have used both hands, but one was gripped by Graham, and the gentle tug had her glancing toward her mother.
Victoria giggled and stepped back with Tom to allow the three to take the last step down before other well-wishers hurried forward.
“Good evening, Lady Simpson,” Graham said to Sophia, his hand reaching for hers.
Sophia stared first at him and then at Edward before her gaze settled on Hannah. Her expression betrayed the myriad thoughts she was experiencing at the moment, but she didn’t put voice to any of them.
“Good evening, Mother,” Hannah said on a sigh.
Edward stepped forward and kissed his grandmother on the cheek. “Grandmother, you look as lovely as ever,” he murmured. “It is a good surprise, is it not?”
Sophia turned to him and nodded. “Oh, the very best,” she whispered. “Both of my twins betrothed on the same day?” Her eyes once again lifted to Graham’s. “I suppose you already spoke with Mr. Simpson,” she half-asked, realizing why it was James seemed so pleased with himself this evening.
“This afternoon, yes, my lady,” Graham acknowledged. “He gave his permission.” He didn’t add anything about the apology his future father-in-law had offered for his part in seeing to it Hannah married another. Although he knew he would always hold a slight grudge, he understood James Simpson’s motivations and Temperance’s part in the plan.
Now that he had discovered he was a parent, he could understand why they had done what they had thought was right.
“Not that you required my permission yet again,” James said with a huff. “I seem to recall having had the same conversation with you a few decades ago. I think you were eleven or twelve at the time.”
Graham dipped his head. “True. I do seem to have the reputation of a turtle, though.”
“Not in all respects, I rather imagine,” Sophia murmured, her gaze falling on Edward. A slow smile lifted her lips before she chuckled.
“Mother,” Hannah scolded gently, even as Edward seemed to beam with delight.
“I shall like having another father,” Edward said as he glanced up at Graham. “Especially one who sees value in my returning to school to resume my studies. At least for this year.”
“So... you won’t remain in London for the rest of the Season?” Hannah asked, expecting Mayfield would have had his way in that regard.
“I struck a compromise with Grandfather last night,” Edward explained. “I finish this year of studies and return to London in June to learn all I can about running the earldom. If he still wishes to step aside, then he must nominate me for a writ of acceleration. If I’m to act as the Earl of Mayfield, then I shall have a seat in the House of Lords.”
Graham and Hannah exchanged quick glances, both rather proud at hearing the young man’s pronouncement. “And if Mayfield decides he wants to remain the earl he is?” Graham prompted.
“Then I shall head to Oxford and graduate as originally planned.”
Before he could say another word, the announcer called out, “The Right Honorable the Earl of Mayfield and the Right Honorable the Countess of Mayfield.”
“Speaking of the devil,” Graham murmured under his breath.
“Do they know?” Sophia asked of Hannah.
She nodded as she watched her in-laws descend the stairs. “I told them a few minutes before Graham came for me this evening.”
“How did they take it?”
A grin of embarrassment appeared as Hannah recalled finding the two about to head into the library, apparently to wait for their coach to be brought ’round. She knew exactly how they intended to pass the time, and given the countess’ high color, she realized her announcement hadn’t affected their clandestine affair one iota.
“They weren’t a bit surprised,” Hannah commented. “Almost as if they’d been expecting it.”
“Would Edward have had anything to do with that?” Sophia asked gently.
Hannah’s grin was impish. “It seems my old soul-of-a-son has been making arrangements behind my back for some time,” she admitted. “May God bless him.”
“You and Graham will be the subjects of the featured article in the next The Tattler,” Sophia warned.
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Hannah whispered. “The next issue is releasing tomorrow. Mayfield claims there are twenty names mentioned for possible suitors in the betting books at Brooks’s. I shouldn’t wish to turn away so many callers over the next few days.”
“I shall be at your side for every one of them,” Graham said from somewhere behind Hannah, his hand still holding hers.
“Ah
, here is the happy couple now,” Stanley, Earl of Mayfield, said in a loud voice when he and Temperance joined their group.
Curtsies were performed and heads were bent in acknowledgement of the earl and countess.
“And a happy mother, I hope?” Temperance asked in a quiet voice as she greeted Sophia.
“I am. Relieved, as well.” Sophia motioned for Laura to join her and introduced the artist to Temperance. “Miss Overby is in the process of painting our family portrait,” Sophia explained. “But now that there will be a new son and a new daughter...” She allowed the sentence to trail off.
“I shall be starting another in a few days,” Laura finished for her, glad when she felt Henry’s hand tighten briefly on hers, as if he agreed with what needed to happen.
“Does that mean you can start ours after that?” Temperance asked.
Laura was about to respond when Henry said, “A week after that. I should like to take my wife on a quick wedding trip.” He didn’t add that he would take his bride on a much longer trip to Derbyshire once the timing of his promotion was settled.
The countess pushed out her lower lip in a pretend pout and said, “Agreed.” She would have continued her conversation with Sophia, but Mayfield offered his arm. “Come, my sweeting. Time we take a tour of the gardens.”
Temperance blushed. “Already?”
“I’m not getting any younger,” Mayfield groused as he led them away.
“Man has a point,” James said as he offered his arm to his wife. “Will you join me?”
Sophia blinked and did her best to suppress a giggle as she was escorted out the French doors to the gardens beyond.
Thomas Wellingham watched the older couples take their leave and turned to Emma to say, “I’m not getting younger, either.”
“Speak for yourself,” she said before aiming a wink in her son’s direction. “Lead the way.”
Edward glanced at the remaining three couples. “I’m off to find some refreshment and a young lady to dance with,” he announced before he gave them a bow and stepped away.
Tom offered his arm to Victoria. “May I have this dance?”
She nodded, and the two disappeared into the crowd.
Left to regard one another with looks of embarrassment, Graham and Hannah and Henry and Laura said nothing as they all made their way to the gardens.
They weren’t getting any younger, either.
Epilogue
Seven months later, Cherrywood in Derbyshire
A light morning fog slowly lifted as the sun escaped the horizon, its autumn light casting the hills of Derbyshire in a green unlike anything Laura had seen before. She quickly mixed pigments to match, but was awestruck when the sky changed from its gray dawn to a peach and purple-streaked vista.
Selecting a larger brush, she quickly mixed the colors and set about capturing the effect on her large canvas, knowing she only had minutes before those colors would be replaced with light blues and the dark clouds that threatened from the west.
On most days of her honeymoon, she couldn’t begin to paint until the afternoons, her husband keeping her abed until well after ten o’clock. By the time they ate breakfast and saw to dressing for the day, the sun would be well past the zenith.
This morning, an incessant pounding in her mid-section had her giving up the bed well before dawn. Given her pregnancy, she no longer sat on a stool on the lawn but rather stood while she worked to perfect her landscape painting techniques.
“You’ve such an eye for these colors,” Henry said as he approached from behind and wrapped his arms around her middle. He kissed the nape of her neck before settling his chin on her shoulder. “It will look lovely in the parlor,” he murmured. “Above the fireplace.”
His comment was rewarded with a quickening beneath his hands. When he jerked and let out a sound of surprise, Laura had to pull her brush away from the canvas lest a streak of pink end up in the hillside she had painted the afternoon before.
“What was that?” he asked, stepping back.
Giggling, Laura dropped her brush into a glass of turpentine and turned to regard her husband. Despite the slight chill in the air, he wore only a silk banyan and bedroom slippers, and from his unruly hair, she knew he had just left their bed. “That was your son. Or, at least it had better be, or our daughter will be very unladylike. He, or she, or... they were the reason I awoke so early.”
Henry gingerly placed a hand on her rounded belly. “So, it wasn’t my snoring?” he murmured before his eyes rounded. “Did you say they?”
“I did. Either that, or I’m having a baby with more than two feet,” Laura complained, her expression turning to one of worry.
“Twins,” Henry said in an awe-filled whisper. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” He pulled her into a hug. “Oh, my sweeting. No wonder your poor feet cause you such pain at night.”
Laura relaxed in his hold, rather liking how Henry could show his affections out in the open like this. Back in London, he saved his most ardent attentions for when they were alone in their bedchambers. With the nearest village a half-mile away and not another house closer, Cherrywood offered privacy as well as the comfort of a country house.
She supposed they could be seen by a servant should one be standing near a window. Or by the sheep that dotted the hillside that was now glowing with the rays of the rising sun. As if by magic, the gray-green hills brightened to a lighter green and the sky transformed to a blue.
Letting out a sound of disappointment at seeing the streaks of peach and purple disappear from the sky, Laura turned and kissed Henry on the cheek.
“What is it?” he asked, tightening his hold on her.
“I would have thought landscapes easier to paint because the subjects don’t move,” she replied. “But I’ve discovered they’re far harder. The light is always changing, as are the colors. I’ve decided I prefer painting people.” She would resume her portraiture work after their return to London. Henry’s promotion had been publicly announced a fortnight ago, and he would take his place as head clerk in another fortnight. In the meantime, they were enjoying their delayed honeymoon at the Burroughs’ country estate.
“The work you’ve done so far is beautiful,” he assured her. “You will finish it, won’t you?”
She nodded. “Another time. Maybe later today.”
“And in the meantime?”
Laura used the flat of one hand to spread open the top of his banyan. “There’s a particular subject I’d like to continue studying.”
“Oh?”
“For the painting that’s to hang above my headboard in the mistress suite.”
Henry blinked and then glanced down as her hand continued spreading the silk from his chest and then from one shoulder. “Me?” he guessed, remembering the painting she had done of him that now hung above the fireplace mantel in her bedchamber.
Having been asleep for the times she had sketched him, he hadn’t even been aware he had been modeling for the painting that depicted him half-covered by bed clothes whilst half-awake, his gaze aimed at the viewer.
“Mmm.”
He kissed her forehead. “I rather like being studied,” he murmured, remembering how she would smooth her fingers over his skin with the claim that she was learning its texture. “So much more fun than posing.”
She arched a brow. “Then we’ll have to move to a more comfortable location,” she suggested, urging him toward the house.
“Can I study you, too?” he asked as he offered his arm. “You’re so much more interesting than numbers.”
“I’m counting on it,” she replied. “No pun intended,” she added when she saw his grin of delight.
Meanwhile, at the townhouse of Lady and Mr. Wellingham, 10 Kingly Street
“Twins?” Hannah cried out as her hands went to her belly. “Are you quite sure?”
Dr. Regan nodded, pulling his odd instrument from his ear. The other end of the flared tube had been pressed against Lady Wellingham�
��s bare midsection.
“Quite.” He had learned much of his medical knowledge from his father, a physician who had seen to soldiers in the Napoleonic Wars and was later a doctor to a duke in Sussex. “I do not know why you express such surprise, my lady. You yourself were a twin, were you not?”
Hannah frowned at the physician. “I am still a twin, but what has that got to do with it?”
“Twins tend to run in families, my lady.”
Hannah’s eyes widened, her thoughts going to her new sister by marriage. When she’d last seen Laura, she had thought her pregnancy even more evident than her own, which had led her to believe her brother had bedded his wife well before their wedding night.
Perhaps she was merely larger because she was also carrying two babies instead of just one. “Oh, dear,” Hannah murmured with worry.
“What is it?”
“My brother’s wife could be carrying twins as well. She’s rather... rotund already,” she said as she waved a hand in a circle over her own belly.
Dr. Regan furrowed a brow. “Mr. Simpson’s wife is not a patient of mine, so I cannot say for sure.”
“But it’s possible?”
He nodded. “Indeed.”
Hannah sighed. “Then I suppose we shall wallow in pity together as our feet swell along with our bellies,” she lamented. Edward might have been born seventeen years ago, but she still remembered the ravages of pregnancy on her body.
Frowning, Dr. Regan said, “Or you could prevail upon your husband to rub your feet every night.”
Hannah blinked. “What’s this?”
Dr. Regan shrugged. “Whilst at dinner, you might mention the need to have a footman rub your feet at night. My other patients find it remarkable that their husbands are quick to take on the duty instead of allowing a servant to do so.”
A grin appeared, and Hannah admonished the doctor. “But thank you for the suggestion,” she added, thinking of what it would be like to have Graham gripping her tiny feet between his large hands.
The Bargain of a Baroness Page 27