Thinking of the small estate they had been granted, Viola smiled as she envisioned what it would be for them. It was a place where they could make a life together. They had traveled to it to inspect the property only the day before and make the necessary arrangements to take up residence there, but were postponing any move until the Blakemore heir made an appearance. As Beatrice had taken to her bed with pains in her back that morning, it was unlikely to be much longer. Thinking of what it felt like to hold her son in her arms, after the pain of childbirth, Viola felt a pang of longing.
A childish giggle pulled her attention and Viola turned to see Tristan playing with a small, wooden horse. It was his favorite toy. Beyond the open door of the nursery, Viola could see Lord Blakemore pacing the length of the hall. Lady Agatha was with Beatrice and Nicholas was attending the birth. It was an uncommon thing for a birth to be overseen by a physician rather than a midwife, but then the Blakemore family was nothing if not unorthodox.
“He’ll wear a hole in that carpet before the day is done,” Belinda said smartly.
“It is his carpet, after all,” Viola replied. “And I think it’s rather sweet. He’s so clearly smitten with her and so very worried for her and the babe. I didn’t think that sort of love existed. I certainly never believed that kind of man existed!”
Belinda looked at her. “Far cry from the way you gave birth to this one,” she said, pointing to Tristan. “Not a doctor or midwife in sight, and only your old aunt and uncle to care what happened. But I reckon that’s all changed now. Hasn’t it, Mrs. Warner? You’ve found the best of everything now that you’ve come back here.”
Viola smiled. She was quite happy to never be called Lady Ramsleigh again. “I suppose we shall see when I am blessed enough to present Tristan with a brother or sister… and yes, it feels almost sinful to be this happy.”
Belinda smiled at that. “Nothing wrong with being happy. It’s how the good Lord intended for us to be. It’s the devil what gets in the way of it. But about this brother or sister for that wee demon… I don’t suppose that’s coming anytime soon, is it?”
Viola laughed. “We’ve only been married for a week, Belinda!”
The other woman cackled at that. “You don’t get the babe from standing in front of the vicar. And I don’t think I need to be telling you that!”
Viola blushed to the roots of her hair, unable to deny it. “I don’t know is the only acceptable answer I can offer.”
“Is it wrong to say that I hope it’s a sister? I know every man wants a son, but I’d quite like to see Dr. Warner bowing and scraping to a little scrap of a girl who looks like you,” Belinda mused.
As Viola had often thought the same thing, she said nothing.
Just then, a sharp cry pierced the air. It was the indignant wail of the newly born and a sweeter sound she had never heard. A relieved smile tugged at her lips and she uttered a small prayer of thanks. That smile spread to a grin at the thundering of Lord Blakemore’s steps as he ran down the hall.
Moments later, Nicholas entered. Having discarded his coat and cravat, his shirtsleeves were pushed back and waistcoat undone. He was so handsome he took her breath away.
“Mother and babies are both doing quite well,” he offered with a grin.
“Babies?” Belinda asked, her shock sharpening her tone.
Nicholas grinned. “Yes. It appears Lady Beatrice is something of an overachiever and felt the need to present her husband with twins… a boy and a girl. Both quite perfect, though the boy does seem to have his father’s more stoic nature. The girl is quite the hellion already, I fear. That was her caterwauling you heard.”
Viola laughed, “Lady Agatha must be simply beside herself with joy… Lord Blakemore is probably in a dead faint.”
“If ever anything could prompt him to swoon,” Nicholas agreed with a laugh of his own, “this would likely be it.”
Belinda rose and picked up Tristan. “I’m going to take him down to the kitchens for a sweet, I think. He has been awfully good today.”
Alone with her husband after the maid left, Viola shook her head. “She’s not going to the kitchens for Tristan’s sake!” It was, in all likelihood, to pay a visit to William Wells who’d stayed on at Castle Black to recuperate and then to work for Lord Blakemore. In the last weeks, they’d become quite taken with one another.
“We need servants for Ashton Hall… Belinda will accompany us, of course. What do you think of Wells as a butler?”
She blinked at that for several seconds. Her reply was cautious at best, “He’d be quite unorthodox. In that regard, I suppose it makes him perfect. But I suppose it might depend on whether or not Belinda can entice him more than a cask of brandy.”
Nicholas chuckled at that. “And that, my dear, is one of the many reasons I love you.”
What a miraculous thing it was, she thought, to be loved so completely and to love him so completely in return. “I feel very sorry for people who aren’t us,” she said. “Everyone should know this kind of happiness in their lives.”
Nicholas stepped forward, tugged her up from the floor where she’d settled to play with Tristan and kissed her soundly. “While Belinda is making cow’s eyes at Wells and Tristan is chaperoning them, we could take advantage of the situation.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I think you could likely outdo Lady Beatrice. Triplets at the very least, no?”
Viola laughed at that. “Absolutely not. Twins perhaps, but I draw the line at three. It would be bad form to show off so terribly!”
“Then by all means, Mrs. Warner, let us retire to our room and get to work,” he urged, his voice low and roughened with desire.
Looking up into his eyes, dark with desire, Viola felt an answering surge of longing within her. He could seduce her with little more than a glance. “Lead on, Doctor. But hurry… one of those babes will hiccup and Lord Blakemore will hunt you to the ends of the earth to ascertain their state of health.”
She didn’t need to ask again. As they hurried down the hall and into their chamber, it was all urgency and need. The door closed, locking out the world, as they succumbed to passion.
The world faded to nothing around them and the only sounds in that chamber were soft cries and earthy moans as the desire that had brought them together only strengthened the bond between them.
In the aftermath, Viola lay in the circle of his arms and marveled at the good fortune that had washed her ashore only a short distance away. “I thought God had forsaken me. Years ago, when I suffered the pain and humiliation at the hands of Percival, and even worse, at the hands of Randall… but now, as horrible as it is to say, I wouldn’t change a thing. Because all that I suffered allows me to see just how rare and precious this is between us.”
Nicholas kissed her then, his lips moving over hers with such tenderness that it brought tears to her eyes. When he drew back, his own eyes were curiously damp. “I never thought much about fate, destiny, or even God. Because surely nothing less than divine intervention could have brought us together… I love you. More than my own life.”
“Just so long as you plan to live for a good long time. I’m not very good at being a widow,” she teased, an attempt at levity. “The last time I tried it, I embarked upon a scandalous affair with a handsome, young doctor.”
Nicholas moved over her once more, pressing intimately against her. “Tell me again just how handsome this doctor was.”
Viola couldn’t stop her laughter as her husband fished for compliments. But the laughter faded as passion flared again. It was not a bad way to live, she thought, lost between moments of humor and the pleasure they could bring to one another.
The End
About the Author
Chasity Bowlin lives in central Kentucky with her husband and their menagerie of animals. She loves writing, loves traveling and enjoys incorporating tidbits of her actual vacations into her books. She is an avid Anglophile, loving all things British, but specifically al
l things Regency.
Growing up in Tennessee, spending as much time as possible with her doting grandparents, soap operas were a part of her daily existence, followed by back to back episodes of Scooby Doo. Her path to becoming a romance novelist was set when, rather than simply have her Barbie dolls cruise around in a pink convertible, they time traveled, hosted lavish dinner parties and one even had an evil twin locked in the attic.
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The Resurrection of Lady Ramsleigh Page 22