The Gift of the Marquess

by Darcy Burke

  Poppy stood back and surveyed the greenery she’d just festooned around the drawing room at Hartwell House in preparation for the St. Nicholas Day party that would commence shortly.

  “What’s that smile for?” Bianca asked as she breezed into the room.

  “Oh, nothing, just remembering something in years past.” Poppy noted that her sister was positively glowing today, and why shouldn’t she be? Seeing her thus made Poppy so happy.

  To think that just a fortnight ago, Poppy had been dreading the season because finding joy had just seemed impossible. Facing her disappointment and working through her grief—with Gabriel at her side—had made all the difference.

  Bianca climbed onto a chair, and Poppy handed her one end of the pine garland the children had made that morning. “Last night, I was thinking about the space issues here at Hartwell House.”

  “On your wedding night?” Poppy shook her head while expelling a light laugh. “Of course you did.”

  “Can’t turn my brain off, I’m afraid,” Bianca said cheerfully. “Thankfully, Ash loves that about me. Now, I hope you don’t find my proposal too forward, but I would think not since you are already giving shelter to someone for whom there wasn’t room here.”

  Dinah. Poppy and Gabriel had visited the cottage briefly yesterday on their way home from the wedding festivities. Dinah had barely spoken to them, for she’d been extremely uncomfortable and had ultimately asked them to please leave her in peace. Judith had whispered that she suspected Dinah’s time was coming soon.

  A tremor of anxiety coursed through Poppy when she thought of the baby coming. Decisions would have to be made. There would be no more postponing the future—not for any of them.

  A bead of hope worked its way through Poppy’s nervousness, but she refused to embrace it. She didn’t dare.

  She couldn’t.

  Poppy focused on her sister. “What’s your idea?”

  “Ash and I plan to open up a portion of Buck Manor to anyone who needs it. We have several rooms that aren’t used, and they could provide a temporary home for a few souls until Shield’s End is rebuilt.”

  “What a wonderful plan,” Poppy said. “I wish we could do the same, but Darlington Abbey is not as large as Buck Manor. We should ask Calder to take people in.”

  Bianca nodded. “There are entire wings at Hartwood that he doesn’t even step inside.”

  “He’ll refuse,” Poppy said flatly. “Though I suppose we should still ask.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry with him,” Bianca said.

  “I don’t know that I ever have been. His behavior is deplorable.”

  “Can I presume you’re speaking of your intolerable brother?” Gabriel strode into the drawing room, his arms full of packages, with Ash trailing behind, his arms also full of gifts for the children.

  “What gave it away?” Bianca asked drily. “Poppy wants to ask him to help with housing people from Hartwell House as we plan to do at Buck Manor.”

  “A pointless endeavor,” Gabriel said as Poppy moved to help him unload the gifts onto a table. “We should make him, however.”

  Ash deposited his armful of packages next to Gabriel’s. “Is that possible?”

  “No,” Poppy and Bianca said in unison.

  “Oh, let me try.” Gabriel’s whisper was soft and dangerous, his eyes gleaming with challenge.

  Bianca set her hands on her hips and frowned. “He should be here. Our father would have been.”

  “He is not our father.” And that made Poppy sad. Their father hadn’t been perfect, but he’d been an excellent duke, a dedicated and admired leader in the community and in London. Calder, on the other hand, was feared. She supposed he was dedicated, but to only one thing: himself.

  Gabriel looked to Bianca and Ash, who stood close together, their arms touching. “You plan to house people?”

  Bianca nodded. “If it becomes necessary.”

  “It may. Mrs. Armstrong typically sees an influx of women in the winter, and, frankly, I’m concerned about the physical structure of Hartwell House. Three rooms are currently uninhabitable, and I can’t see them being repaired until spring.”

  “Damn, if only Shield’s End hadn’t burned.” Ash took Bianca’s hand and addressed Poppy and Gabriel. “Bianca and I decided the house will be rebuilt specifically for the Institution for Impoverished Women.”

  Poppy gaped at him. “You can’t be serious?”

  “Never more,” Ash said. “The house was sitting empty, and my mother will be staying with us. We were going to host the St. Stephen’s Party there—before it burned—and I was glad to see it used for something that would benefit others. We’ll consult with Mrs. Armstrong regarding what she’d like the new building to contain.”

  “That’s just…” Gabriel shook his head. “It’s incredibly generous.”

  “I know Mrs. Armstrong would like to have a school for the children who live there,” Bianca said. “Ash would take that into account when he meets with the architects.”

  Poppy had an idea. “Or, and this may not work, we could use Hartwell House as the school since Shield’s End would be the new institution. If we can repair Hartwell House adequately.”

  Bianca beamed at her. “That’s a marvelous suggestion.”

  Gabriel grinned as he regarded her with keen admiration. “You’re just full of amazing ideas. And yes, we should be able to repair Hartwell House, especially if we’re able to raise funds at the assembly next week.”

  “Oh yes, that is our intent.” Bianca’s gaze turned shrewd. “I’m thinking Thornaby and his friends should give until it hurts.”

  “As should Calder,” Poppy said sourly. “Bianca, we’re going to have to pay him a visit.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “We’ll come with you for fortification,” Ash offered.

  “I’m not sure if that would help. In fact, it may hinder us.”

  Mrs. Armstrong bustled into the drawing room, her dark gray skirts swirling about her legs. “Can you help bring in the refreshments? The children are beside themselves with anticipation. I think we need to begin the party.” She smiled broadly. “Oh, to be young again!”

  They went to help immediately, and soon the room was filled with laughter and gleeful conversation. Women and mothers and children alike opened gifts that Poppy and Gabriel and Ash and Bianca had provided. Watching their joy filled Poppy with contentment. She looked forward to the future and all they had planned.

  Later, when everyone began to play games, Mrs. Armstrong drew Poppy aside. “Where is Dinah? I thought she was coming to the party.”

  “She wasn’t feeling well. Judith thinks it may be almost time for the babe.”

  Mrs. Armstrong inclined her head. “I own I’m sad Judith isn’t here. This is the first St. Nicholas Day we haven’t spent together. I have a gift for her—perhaps you could deliver it?”

  Poppy’s heart pinched. “Of course. I should have sent someone to watch over Dinah so that Judith could come.” She felt terrible she hadn’t thought of that.

  “Don’t fret yourself. Judith would have said something if she thought it wise for her to come. I wager she thought she was needed with Dinah.”

  At that moment, one of the grooms from Darlington Abbey appeared in the doorway. He held his hat in his hand, and his face was reddened as if he’d been riding in the wind.

  Gabriel went to speak with him, and Poppy watched as his features tensed. He nodded then turned, his gaze searching for Poppy, but she was already walking toward him.

  “What is it?’ she asked, her entire body swirling with apprehension. With expectation.

  He clasped Poppy’s hand, his fingers tight around hers. “Dinah has gone into labor. The babe is coming.”

  Chapter 8

  By the time they reached the cottage at Darlington Abbey, Gabriel’s anxiety and apprehension were so high that he wanted to climb right out of his skin. He prayed Dinah and the baby would be fine. And then he
prayed she would decide to let them raise her. Or him.

  He shared neither of those hopes with Poppy.

  It was nearly dark when they arrived. Another vehicle was parked along the lane. Gabriel recognized it as belonging to Dr. Fisk. Knowing the physician was here should have made him feel better.

  It did not.

  Gabriel helped Poppy from the gig. They hurried inside to escape the cold, but mostly to discover what was happening.

  A wave of dread crested over Gabriel as they reached the front door. He hesitated.

  Poppy must have sensed his fear. She turned to him and put her gloved hands on his cheeks, as she looked earnestly into his eyes. “Whatever happens, my love, we will be fine. You will be fine.”

  “I’m not worried about me,” he said quietly, his voice a thin thread.

  “I know.” She gave him an encouraging smile and pressed her palms gently against his face. “And that is why I love you so. One of the many reasons.” She stood on her toes and kissed him just as a scream rent the air.

  Gabriel gasped against her mouth, his eyes flying wide as panic sliced through him. He remembered his mother screaming when she gave birth to his youngest sibling, a stillborn boy his father hadn’t wanted to name.

  Poppy opened the door and preceded him into the cottage. It was warm—warmer than usual—with a large fire blazing in the hearth. The flames were so high that Gabriel couldn’t see through to the back bedroom.

  “Good evening, Dorothy,” Poppy said.

  Who was Dorothy? Gabriel blinked and realized one of the maids from Darlington Abbey was tending the fire.

  She turned and bobbed a curtsey to Poppy and Gabriel. “Good evening, my lord, my lady. Dr. Fisk stopped and picked me up on the way here. He said he needed an extra pair of hands because Mrs. Fisk wasn’t able to come.”

  “Where’s Judith?” Poppy asked.

  “In the back with Dr. Fisk. I don’t think it will be long now.”

  “We heard a scream.” The words came from Gabriel’s mouth, but he sounded as if he were standing outside his body listening to someone else speak.

  “She’s done that a few times now,” Dorothy said, wincing. “I heard Dr. Fisk tell her that was all right.”

  Poppy moved to stand in front of Gabriel. She’d removed her hat and cloak, as well as her gloves. “Try to relax, my love,” she whispered, removing his hat. “Why don’t you sit?” She unfastened his great coat and moved around him to help him doff the garment.

  He watched as she hung the items next to hers on a hook near the door. He felt as if he couldn’t move. God, if this was how he behaved when a woman he barely knew gave birth, how would he be if Poppy were in this situation? He was immensely glad he’d never find out.

  Before he realized what she was doing, Poppy had removed one of his gloves. After he removed the second, she took his arm and guided him to the settee near the fire. A few moments later, she returned with a glass of brandy, which she pressed into his hand.

  Grateful, he lifted the drink. Another moan followed by a high-pitched wail filled the cottage. He jerked, and half the liquid in his glass splashed over his hand and onto the floor. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. He needed to pull himself together.

  Poppy rushed to wipe up the brandy from his hand and wrist, then did the same with the droplets on the floor. “Drink.”

  He didn’t have to be persuaded. Downing the contents of the glass in one gulp, he welcomed the spiced fruit flavor. But it wasn’t enough. He held the empty glass up for her to refill it. A moment later, she pressed it back into his hand. This time he sipped. And managed not to spill when a long, loud, shuddering moan seemed to shake the very walls of the cottage.

  “Do you want me to go look in?” Poppy asked him softly.

  He looked up at her and nodded. “Please.”

  She left him, and then he heard it—the beautiful, unmistakable sound of a baby’s cries. The tension in him released, and he sagged back against the settee. He stared at the fire, unseeing, as he listened to the sounds from the other room—bustling feet, Dr. Fisk giving orders, that melodic cry.

  Melodic?

  He wiped a hand over his face and laughed at his pathetic state. After a few minutes, Poppy returned. “It’s a girl,” she said, grinning. “Dr. Fisk said the birth went well. Dinah is resting now.”

  “And the babe?” All the tension that had left Gabriel gathered once more, curling and tightening within him.

  “Suckling.” She quickly added, “There is no wet nurse.” Had she read his mind? His first thought was that Dinah had made her decision, that she was going to keep her baby.

  Her daughter.

  Suddenly realizing he would never have a daughter who looked like her mother, Gabriel’s insides turned to mush. His throat squeezed, and he forced himself to breathe.

  Poppy sat down beside him. “Do you want to go, or would you rather stay for a while?”

  “Stay.” He had to know what Dinah meant to do. And he wanted to see the babe.

  Gabriel sipped his brandy and Poppy sat quietly next to him, her thigh pressed against his. Dr. Fisk finally came from the bedroom, his ruddy face dappled with sweat.

  “Good evening, my lord,” he said with a bow. In his fifties, the doctor was a kind and generous man with a large family of his own, including a son who planned to become a physician. Dr. Fisk, often with his wife and a few of his children helping, cared for the women and children at Hartwell House without accepting payment.

  Setting his glass down on a small table, Gabriel rose and shook the man’s hand. “Good evening, Dr. Fisk. Thank you for attending Dinah. I hear everything went as it should.” He heard the note of question in his voice, despite Poppy already telling him things went well.

  “Quite! Though rather, er, vocal, Miss Kitson was an excellent patient.”

  “She’ll recover?”

  “I have every expectation, my lord,” Dr. Fisk said jovially as he glanced toward the glass of brandy. “I don’t suppose I might trouble you for a nightcap?”

  “I’ll see to it,” Poppy offered with a smile.

  Gabriel suffered through a good half hour—at least—of chatting with Dr. Fisk before the physician returned to the bedroom once more. Then he took his leave with the promise to check in on the mother and babe in a few days.

  The moment he left, Gabriel’s anxiety climbed even further, and it took a great deal of effort not to ask him to come back. What happened if Dinah or the babe took a turn?

  Dorothy came from the back room bearing a basket with soiled linens. “My lord and lady, if you’d care to visit briefly, you are welcome.”

  Poppy started toward the bedroom, then stopped, perhaps realizing that Gabriel hadn’t moved. He stared toward the chamber in fright, unable to make his feet move.

  Coming back to him, Poppy took his hand. “Are you all right?”

  Somehow, he nodded. Then he took a step. And another. As they reached the threshold, he recognized a scent in the air, something he couldn’t describe. Something he associated with despair. A memory came rushing over him.

  His mother lying in the bed, her face pale, her body cold. He wasn’t supposed to be there. But he’d wanted to see his beloved mama and tell her how sorry he was that his baby brother had died.

  He took her hand. She usually squeezed his fingers and called him her “sweet boy.” She did neither.

  “Mama?” he whispered, standing on his toes so he could lean toward her form.

  She didn’t stir. He let go of her hand and found the stool to climb onto the bed. Just as he put his hands on the mattress to boost himself up, his father came in and yelled at him to get away.

  “She’s gone, boy!”

  “Gabriel? Gabriel, can you hear me?” Poppy stood in front of him, her hands on his cheeks, her eyes wide, her words a desperate plea.

  He blinked as he returned to the present, to this smell that wasn’t quite the same but close. It could so quickly turn…

  “S
he’s going to die,” he whispered, his gaze moving past Poppy to the bed where Dinah lay cradling her babe. Swaddled in blankets and nuzzled to her mother’s chest, the girl was barely visible. Perhaps she was already gone…

  Poppy pulled his head down, forcing him to refocus on her. “Look at me, Gabriel. You mustn’t think like that. She’s fine. And the baby is fine.”

  “Now. But you know as well as I do that can change.”

  “It can change for all of us,” she said, keeping her voice low. But her tone was harsh. Honest. Fucking unavoidable. “You and I can leave tonight, be set upon by highwaymen, and killed. Or contract an ague and die in a fortnight. Or perhaps there would be a fire, and Ash won’t be here to save us. Bad things happen, my love. They happen all the time. But so do good things. We must focus on those, pray for those, celebrate those. If we don’t… What is there?”

  He heard what she was saying and came to the same question—what is there? He watched as Dinah bent her head and kissed the babe, holding her to her chest. She smiled and whispered to the girl, every part of her radiating joy and love.

  She was not going to abandon her daughter.

  So much for good things. Steeling himself, Gabriel stepped around Poppy toward the bed. “You look well,” he said, sounding surprisingly normal.

  Dinah tipped her head up. She looked pale, but not dangerously so. Her eyes were tired, but her mouth seemed glued into a half smile. Indeed, he’d never seen her in such fine spirits.

  “I have a baby girl,” she said.

  There was his answer. But he’d already deduced it. “So I heard. Have you chosen a name for her yet?”

  Dinah looked down at her and shook her head. “I never allowed myself to think of a name. I didn’t think I should.”

  Poppy had joined them at the bed, standing on the other side. “Why?”

  Glancing toward Poppy, Dinah spoke in a soft, almost sad voice. She didn’t sound quite like herself—at least not the woman Gabriel had come to know. “I didn’t think I would be a mother. I didn’t think I should.”