by Amanda Davis
James drew back his shoulders and entered the bedchambers, his face stoic. Lydia sat reading on the chaise, her long hair loose around her shoulders.
“You have returned so soon?” she asked, setting the novel aside to hurry toward him. “Is all well?”
He studied her face closely, imagining how much more devastation he would cause if he told her what he had learned.
No, he vowed. I made a promise to her to leave this matter alone and I will honor it. I owe this much to my wife.
“Darling? What is the matter?” Lydia breathed, her words laced with concern.
“Not a thing,” he replied, pulling her close into his embrace. “Everything is precisely as it should be.”
Epilogue
Snow fell in a nearly twisting, twirling dance as Lydia rushed toward the approaching messenger.
“Your Grace! Permit me to go,” Franny called from the threshold but Lydia paid her no mind as the messenger’s horse stopped.
“I seek the Duke of Holden,” the page explained.
“I am the Duchess,” Lydia replied, reaching eagerly for the message. She knew what it contained and her excitement was close to bubbling over.
“I have an invitation from the Balfour Hotel in Luton,” the young man continued.
“I am aware,” Lydia replied impatiently. “Do give it to me.”
He handed her the creamy paper and Lydia spun back toward the manor house, shivering as she crossed the threshold.
“Your Grace, you will catch your death running outside without a cloak,” Franny chided in her motherly way.
“I am fit as a fiddle,” Lydia assured her, opening the page with trembling fingers.
“What is this I hear?” James demanded, appearing in the entryway. “Have you been running into the snow?”
“It is here,” Lydia breathed, waving the paper before him whilst ignoring his question. “The invitation has arrived!”
James laughed gently and took her arm, leading her toward the crackling warmth of the fireplace inside the front salon.
“As we knew it would be,” he conceded. “I daresay, my duchess, I have never seen a lady quite so excited to attend a christening in all my life.”
“You know as well as I do, my love, that I have every cause to be elated. We are to be his godparents!”
James offered her another warm smile and Lydia stared at him.
“Why are you not more excited?” she demanded. “This will be wonderful…”
Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Are you concerned about seeing your mother and sister again?”
“No,” he denied quickly. “Not in the least. I am pleased that we are returning to Luton. I suspect that you miss Emmeline Compton more than you confess.”
“I do,” Lydia agreed. “But as you continue to remind me, I am free to visit at any time. She warns me that there is little to do in the winter months, however.”
Lydia continued to gaze at him. “What is the matter, my duke?”
James again shook his head and turned away, causing a familiar sense of alarm in Lydia’s gut. She could not say why, but since they had come back from Luton after those enlightening few days in the summer months, Lydia could not help but feel that her husband had returned with a secret.
The matter of his father never again was roused and sometimes, she wondered if he was still thinking about it. Whenever she broached the topic, however, he dismissed it with a wave.
“There is nothing on my mind but you and the duchy,” he would assure her and Lydia would have no other option but to accept his word.
“James, would you rather we not go to Luton for the christening?” Lydia asked nervously. She dreaded that he might refuse the invitation but to her relief he laughed.
“I would not dare suggest such a thing,” he replied. “I am rather looking forward to the trip.”
“Then what is it? Do not say it is nothing when I can clearly see you are somewhere else in thought.”
His mouth puckered and James released a slow groan. “Must you know me so well?” he sighed.
“I can think of worse things to complain about than your wife being familiar with your moods.”
“It is not a mood,” James insisted, turning back to look at her, a glass of scotch in hand. “I was simply considering that Lise named the baby after me.”
“That should flatter you, not trouble you,” Lydia chuckled. “My word, you are the most complicated gentleman in the land.”
James’ smile broadened. He shook his head, gently placing his drink to the side as he neared her.
“I am flattered,” he replied, chuckling. “In fact, I suggested that she name the child after me. Of course, I did not think she actually would.”
“She loves you a great deal more than you might think,” Lydia said softly. “I am happy you have reconciled with her.”
“Our family is blessed with togetherness,” he agreed but the shadow did not pass from his eyes.
“What is it then?” Lydia urged, with a growing feeling of uneasiness. “Please, James, you must not have me guess.”
“I was merely thinking about what we will do if our child is a boy,” he muttered. “Will we name him James also?”
Lydia gaped at him in shock.
“H-how did you know?” she breathed. “I-I only just learned myself.”
James blinked at her uncomprehendingly. “About what?”
“T-that I am with child…”
His eyes bugged almost clear from their sockets as he stared at her.
“Are you?” he gasped and Lydia was terribly embarrassed. She had planned to tell him in a much more intimate manner but the secret was out now.
“I am,” she murmured. “We will finally have the family I have always longed for.”
Tears of joy filled her eyes and James embraced her gently.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “He will want for nothing, our son.”
“The baby marquis.”
They parted to stare at one another.
“We will keep this news to ourselves until after the christening,” Lydia told him and James agreed. His brow creased.
“What is it now?”
“It is the same matter,” James moaned. “What will we name the baby marquis?”
Lydia laughed, knowing her husband merely jested.
“James,” she replied. “We will name him James as well.”
THE END
Enjoy A Free Sneak Peek…
Brides for the Chauncey Brothers Book 1
Finding Home
1
There had been no rain for one fortnight and the crops were showing signs of malaise. It was only one more daunting fact which troubled Richard as he scrubbed up in the rain water, the tepid liquid only adding to the exhaustion of his weary body. There were other matters to consider also, the unkempt house and rotting garden. There were simply not enough hours in the day to accomplish all that needed to be done, even without facing a drought.
“Have you fallen asleep where you stand?” Jasper teased. “I can think of sounder places for rest.”
Richard turned toward his younger sibling, wearing a scowl on his face.
“It is easy for you to mock me when I saw you sleeping in the barn not two hours ago. It must be wonderful to have such luxuries.”
“I was not sleeping!” Jasper protested, his boyish beam faltering. “I was merely cooling myself against the heat. An overheated farmer can produce nothing of value, after all!”
“Sadly, we do not have such options,” Oliver grunted, appearing from around the side of the house. “We are much too busy attempting to salvage the crops from ruination.”
“Hogwash,” Jasper chirped, unwilling to let his good humor be diminished. “That is the trouble with you—always doubting God’s plan, despite the blessings He has bestowed upon us. We have been through much more trying times than this and prevailed. We will again. Enough with your sour faces.”
Richard opene
d his mouth to respond, but abruptly realized that his youngest brother was not incorrect. Their blessings had been plentiful since commencing the grueling task of traveling out west to make a homestead far from the east coast to where their parents had immigrated twenty years earlier. Not once had they been touched by illness as they crossed the prairies. So many other travelers had endured much worse.
More than just the most basic blessing of life, the Chauncey brothers were of old world stock, their proud British blood apparent in the handsomeness each one possessed. Richard himself was a strapping lad of one and thirty, the eldest of the three siblings. His hair was as dark as a moonless night, a startling contrast to the deep cobalt blue of his perpetually serious eyes. If not for a surprisingly bright smile, he would seem the curmudgeon Jasper painted him to be.
Richard could not be faulted for his stoic nature, however. Their parents had fallen ill at what seemed to be precisely the same moment, seven years past, and it had been a sobering time for all the Chauncey boys. It had foiled their parents’ dream of moving west to own land of their own, for once in their careworn lives. It was why they had braved the voyage across the Atlantic in the throes of terrible circumstances, with three young boys in tow, in hopes of a better life.
How devastating it was, life’s cruel irony sending the older members of the family into early graves within days of one another, as if they could not bear to be apart from each other, even in death. The vision of moving west had been so near. Their father, Charles, had finally scrounged enough money together working at the loading docks to buy a wagon and two horses. In the spring, they were to be bound for California where the sun never set and the land was ripe for the taking.
The boys had been left in a terrible position, not knowing which direction to take when they were still learning what it was they wanted from life. It had not been a long discussion. Their path was clear after the meager burial of Charles and Edith in unmarked graves, for there was not enough to buy headstones to commemorate their passing—not if they intended to fulfill their parents’ dream.
Each one had left something of himself back in New York, none more so than Richard who had longed to marry Eliza Granger. Eliza, however, had been unable to bear the idea of leaving her family behind.
“You must send word when you have secured land,” she told him earnestly. “And we will follow.”
He had believed her, leaving for California with hope in his heart and thoughts of a future with Eliza. In his mind, Richard had grandiose plans of a large family, cousins running amok with one another in the fields as the brothers tended their land. The reality had been much different.
God did not see it fit for Eliza to marry me, Richard thought with some bitterness, uncertain why the image of his estranged beloved had entered his mind in the midst of bantering with his brothers. It was a bittersweet memory and he wished he had not relived it, for when he thought of Eliza, his thoughts turned quickly to his best friend, Theodore in New York, whom Eliza had married in Richard’s absence.
Too swiftly following our departure, he thought grimly. As if they could not wait to see me leave. How long were they sweethearts? How long did Eliza laugh at me without my knowledge?
“Have you quite finished with the water?” Oliver grunted with annoyance. “You have all but floated away in thought, Richie, and you are in my path.”
Richard stepped aside without a word, permitting Oliver and Jasper their turns. He gazed toward the fading sun on the horizon and sighed deeply. He wished it would rain. Perhaps a storm would wash away the darkness which seemed to cling to his heart more and more for reasons unknown.
“You must stop with that!” Jasper scolded him. “Your melancholy is catching.”
“The crops,” Richard muttered again. “We are in desperate need of rain before our harvest is ruined. Surely you can see that.”
“We need help,” Oliver corrected, his face dripping with freshly poured water. “Wives are what we need, and children to run this farm.”
Richard gaped at Oliver in disbelief.
“I would sooner employ laborers than marry!” he retorted furiously, shocked that Oliver would make such a mention knowing his position on the matter. The notion of entrusting another woman with his name was insurmountable, even after all those years.
“With what monies?” Oliver retorted. “Our best course of action is finding wives.”
“More mouths to feed,” Richard grumbled. “That solves nothing.”
“Richie, you must admit that we need help. The land is becoming more fruitful with each passing year. We need—”
“Rain,” Richard interjected flatly, but he did loathe to concede his brother’s point. There was more work than the three could manage. Their land was thriving and while they did not suffer nor struggle as they had in New York, living atop one another on a dockworker’s wages, there was no excess money to hire hands. Still, the house and gardens did suffer with the men working the fields and tending to the livestock from dawn until dusk. A woman’s touch would not be the worst idea that Richard had ever heard.
Shame on you for thinking of marriage simply to procure a house servant.
Yet Richard could not imagine another scenario why he might consider such a union. He pushed the idea from his mind, shaking his head as though to bring some sense into his thoughts.
“You need faith,” Jasper insisted and suddenly he laughed.
“What amuses you?” Oliver growled but Jasper did not lose his smile and he pointed toward the sky.
The two oldest brothers turned their heads toward the sky and a hush fell over them as they took in the scene in awe. The fiery reds and oranges of the sunset were glaring brilliantly against a blackening sky beyond. As they stood gawking at the strange phenomenon, a rumble of loud, ominous thunder filled their ears.
“You see?” Jasper teased. “God does hear our prayers and He does bless us every day. Now stop with your squabbling and let us get inside before we are drenched.”
Oliver and Jasper chuckled and hurried inside the farmhouse, but Richard remained in place watching the storm move in. Richard wondered if he was receiving a message from the heavens, one warning him that he might need be careful for what he wished as he just might get it.
If you enjoyed this sample, the full book can be found on Amazon.