by Burke, Darcy
“We have another daughter, my love.” His emotion was unstoppable this time, his voice breaking over the endearment.
“Of course you were right,” Emmaline’s voice held humor and love, despite her ordeal.
“We have nothing to cut the cord,” Fanny said softly, half in question and half in worry.
“I know,” Emmaline said. “Swaddle her, and I’ll carry her back to the house. Lionel promised we were close.”
“I didn’t promise,” he said, unable to stop staring at his daughter even as Fanny began to wrap her in the too-large blanket. Lionel pulled off his coat and used it to swaddle her instead.
“We aren’t far,” David said softly. “How can I help?”
“We need to get them into the cart—together.” He held their daughter toward Emmaline. “Ready?”
She nodded and took the babe, her lips curling into a smile. “She’s so beautiful.”
“Just like her mother. I’m going to lift you both into the cart.” Lionel looked to David. “Can you arrange a place for her on the floor, preferably with blankets?”
“We’ll do our best.” David clapped a hand on Lionel’s shoulder before returning to the cart.
“I’ll stand beside you and make sure you’re secure,” Fanny said before glancing at Lionel in question.
Lionel leaned forward and tucked a blonde curl behind his wife’s ear before kissing her cheek. “Hold on to our daughter. I’ve got you. Or I will.” He flashed her a smile of encouragement then got to his feet before squatting beside her.
It was awkward as hell, but he managed to lift them from the ground while Emmaline cradled the babe. He quickly carried them to the cart where David had arranged a sort of nest of blankets. David helped settle them into the vehicle.
Benedict, their golden-haired son, immediately sat next to Emmaline, his worried gaze taking in his mother and then his baby sister. “Are you all right, Mama?”
“I’m wonderful, my darling. Come and meet your new sister.”
Another wave of emotion cascaded over Lionel as he climbed into the cart. He looked back to the groom who’d held Emmaline’s hand. “Thank you. We’ll send help for the repair as soon as we get back.”
The groom waved, and once David and Fanny were resettled in the cart, they took off toward the house. Lionel situated himself behind Emmaline once more so she could rest against him. She held their daughter, whose face was just barely visible amidst Lionel’s coat, and Benedict sat close next to them.
“Aren’t you cold?” Emmaline asked Lionel.
“I am completely unaware of the temperature at the moment.” In fact, he had been overheated.
“What’s her name?” Benedict asked.
“She doesn’t have one yet,” Lionel said. “Do you have a suggestion?”
“Rose,” Gray offered. “They smell nice.”
“Not Caroline,” Benedict said. “We already have one of those.”
Lionel kept from laughing. “Yes, we do. That would be very confusing to have two.”
“Like there are two Grahams,” Gray said.
“But you are Gray, not Graham,” Lionel reasoned. “Perhaps we could call the baby Caro to differentiate.”
Emmaline touched her daughter’s nose. “Or we could call her Natalie since it’s Christmas Eve.”
“Perfect,” Lionel said, smiling.
And then Natalie decided she’d had enough of looking serene and began to squall.
* * *
Later that evening, Emmaline reclined on a chaise in the drawing room next to the fire, blazing with the Yule log, her newborn daughter asleep in her arms. This was not how she’d envisioned her Christmas Eve, and yet it was the best one she could remember.
“Only the Duchess of Danger would have a baby outside,” West said, smiling, as he went about the room refilling drinks.
Fanny held up her empty glass for sherry. “I’d argue the Duchess of Daring would be more suited to such a thing. Or maybe the Duchess of Defiance.”
“Oh, Lucy would absolutely give birth outside. In a tree perhaps,” Ivy said of their friend, the Countess of Dartford, who was also known as the Duchess of Daring. It was from the silly nicknames Ivy and Lucy and their other friend Aquilla had started several years ago. They’d assigned faux dukedoms to men they dubbed the “untouchables.” Lucy’s husband was the “Duke of Daring,” owing to his risky pursuits such as racing and riding in balloons. Of all the wives of the “dukes,” Lucy had publicly adopted her husband’s nickname—because she’d also adopted his thrill-seeking behavior. She was now as accomplished a racer as her husband.
Everyone laughed as Emmaline contemplated her husband—the Duke of Danger. Because of his past as a serial duelist. Thankfully, that was the past, for he hadn’t dueled in years. She briefly thought of her former husband, who Lionel had killed in a duel that her husband had insisted on having. Lionel still harbored guilt about it and always would. They both did because without that duel, they wouldn’t have married and fallen in love.
Life could be especially strange. Natalie snuffled in her lap. And wonderful.
Lionel came back to the chair he’d recently vacated to refill Emmaline’s wassail. Sitting down beside her, he offered the cup, then took it back after she’d taken a sip.
“Thank you for taking such good care of me. Of us.”
His blond brows twitched as he gave her a heart-stopping smile. “Thank you for being the most fearless woman I know.”
“What was I supposed to do, fall to the ground and bemoan something that was completely out of my control?” she teased.
“You would never. You have met everything life has given you with poise, dignity, and an inimitable drive to not just survive, but thrive.”
“It is easy with a partner who makes every day worth living—and loving.”
Caroline toddled over to them and held her arms up for Lionel to put her on his lap. He did so without question and dropped a kiss on the top of her blonde head. Most of the children sat in the middle of the floor, playing with toys and chattering about the day. Leah had told them all of her and Jasper’s adventure. Each time she shared the story—and Emmaline had heard it three times now—Jasper’s tumble into the stream grew more dramatic. Rather, her rescue of him did.
“Shall we toast to the most memorable Christmas Eve on record?” West suggested.
“Hear, hear,” David said.
West raised his glass. “To Leah and Jasper, for bringing unnecessary excitement to our Yule log hunt.”
Leah stood and curtsied, which brought laughter from all quarters.
“And to my wife for her courage and, er, stamina.” Lionel kissed her cheek.
Emmaline smiled down at their daughter. “To Natalie, for reminding us all how fortunate we are on this day of all days.”
Everyone lifted their glasses and drank. Before Leah sat back down, she looked to West. “Papa, will you tell a story?”
West had been about to sit down next to Ivy on a wide settee. Instead, he set his glass on a table and rubbed his hands together. “Let me see... Have you all heard the story of the Fairy and the Toadstool?”
The children shook their heads and directed themselves toward him, instantly becoming a rapt audience.
“Once upon a time, there was a fairy who had to spend all of her time watching young fairies.”
“Did they fall in streams?” Leah asked.
West narrowed his eyes at her briefly. “Shh. Don’t interrupt. No, they didn’t fall in streams. They liked to play among the toadstools, which to them were like a forest of trees.”
“Did they choose one to be the Yule log?” Sebastian asked.
West turned to Ivy, who held Julia on her lap. “Notice the only children with ill manners are ours.”
She looked up at him in exaggerated innocence. “I hope that’s not a commentary on my mothering skills. They don’t interrupt me.”
Emmaline clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. L
ionel grinned before sipping his port.
“No, they do not. You are, without a doubt, and I do apologize to our guests, the best mother.” West looked back at his son and daughter and exhaled. “Pray, children, can you pretend I have at least a modicum of your mother’s authority?”
Leah straightened her spine and elbowed her brother, who sat to her left. “Yes, Papa. We’re sorry. We shan’t interrupt again.”
West wasn’t sure he believed her, but he also wasn’t sure he cared. He really was as soft as they came.
He went back to his story. “Butter—she’s the fairy who had to watch the younger fairies—”
“Sorry, Papa, I have to ask, is the fairy’s name really Butter?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
Before West could answer, Ivy broke in. “My darling, perhaps if you let Papa tell the story, you’ll find out.”
Sebastian laughed, and Leah pressed her lips together.
West smiled at his daughter and continued. “Butter had soft, yellow hair, like butter.”
Leah grinned then opened her mouth, but then snapped it shut again.
“As I was saying,” West said, “Butter had to watch the younger fairies because it was her job, and she was frightfully in need of money to pay for her room at a boarding house. She had no family or home of her own.”
“Well, that’s sad.” Leah clapped her hand over her mouth.
“One day, a young fairy called Sparrow—and Leah, do not ask me about his name—told Butter there was a fairy trapped in one of the toadstools. Butter had never heard such a thing and assumed Sparrow was telling a tale. She asked where he’d heard such a thing. He answered that his older brother had said so and that it was absolutely, positively true.
“Butter was sure Sparrow’s older brother was playing a jest and resolved to tell him to stop filling his younger brother’s head with lies. When it was time for the fairies to go home, she accompanied young Sparrow, intent on speaking to his brother.
“Sparrow went into his house to fetch his brother but came out alone. ‘I’m sorry, but Stone isn’t at home,’ he said to Butter. ‘Perhaps you can try tomorrow.’
“Frustrated, Butter left. She went back the next day, but he still wasn’t there. She went the next day and the day after that—every day for a week. She finally asked if he even lived there.
“‘Of course he lives here,’ Sparrow said. ‘He’s my brother.’
“‘I’m beginning to think your brother is as fictional as the fairy trapped in a toadstool.’
“Sparrow shook his head. ‘It’s not fiction. Go and look closely at the toadstool with the gray spots on the stem.’
“‘That is where I’ll find the fairy trapped in the toadstool?’ Butter asked.
“Sparrow nodded. ‘Then you’ll have to figure out how to set him free.’
“‘The fairy is a he?’ Butter asked. For some reason, she’d assumed it was a lady. A princess, perhaps.
“So my brother says,’ Sparrow said. ‘He also said that if the fairy isn’t set free before the full moon, he will be trapped forever.’
“Since the full moon was that night, Butter decided she’d better go—just so she could prove to Sparrow and his brother that there was no fairy.
“Armed with an axe so that she could cut into the toadstool if necessary, she went after dinner, arriving at the gray-spotted toadstool at twilight. She circled the toadstool, trying to determine how someone could be inside.
“‘It just looks like a toadstool,’ Butter grumbled. ‘Sparrow lied, and I fell for it.’
“She turned to go, but from the corner of her eye, she saw a faint glow. It came from the toadstool—the center of the stem, actually. Pivoting slowly toward the toadstool, she noticed the light grew brighter.
“Butter went to the toadstool and put her hand on the smooth stem. ‘Is someone in there?’
“A door opened at the base and out stepped the most handsome fairy she’d ever seen.”
West’s gaze connected with his wife’s and Emmaline couldn’t help but note the silent communication between them. It was flirtatious and loving and full of promise.
Emmaline looked over at Lionel and saw that he was watching her, his expression adoring. She reached over and took his hand.
West continued, “‘Good evening, Butter. I am Stone.’
“‘Sparrow’s brother?’ Butter wasn’t sure she believed him. ‘He said you were trapped, but clearly, you are not.’
“‘Yes, that part was a fabrication. I needed to make sure you would come. I’ve spent this week inside the toadstool doing...things. Would you like to see?’”
The children had all leaned slightly forward, their attention fully on West’s fantastical tale.
“Doubt made Butter hesitate,” West said. “But curiosity won out, and she followed him inside. What she saw next made her jaw drop. It was a house. With furniture and even a hearth.
“‘I was just about to light the fire—the first one,’ Stone said. ‘Would you like to sit in front of it with me?’
“Butter nodded, enchanted as she took in the coziness of the interior. There was a settee and an overstuffed chair perfect for reading. She could happily live there. But of course, it wasn’t hers. It belonged to Stone. Or so she thought.
“‘Is this your house then?’ she asked.
“Stone turned from the fire and took her hand. ‘No, I was hoping it would be yours. I know you don’t have one.’
“Butter couldn’t speak. She hadn’t had a home of her own since she’d been very small, before her parents had died. ‘You spent this week making a house...for me?’
“Stone nodded. ‘Sparrow said you didn’t have one. And now you do. There’s a bedroom upstairs and another fireplace so you won’t be cold.’
“Butter was sure she’d never feel cold again, especially when she looked into his warm, kind eyes. ‘Thank you, Stone. Will you promise to visit?’
“He smiled at her. ‘It would be my honor. Now, shall we have tea?’
“And they did.”
The room fell silent. At last, Leah spoke. “What happened next?”
West hesitated. “Er, they drank their tea.”
Leah frowned. “You said that. What about after the tea?”
“Ah, Stone left, and Butter went to bed.”
“There has to be more,” Leah said, squinting. ““Is that a real story, or did you just make it up?”
West chuckled. “All stories are made up by someone, my dear.”
“And it was a very good one,” Emmaline said. “You should write it down.”
West appeared flattered. “Maybe I will.”
“But it needs a proper ending, Papa,” Leah insisted.
“And what kind of ending is that?” West asked.
“One with a happy ever after.”
Emmaline looked to her husband once more and saw the laughter and love in his gaze. Her heart swelled in response.
“You’re right,” West agreed with his daughter. “Tomorrow, I shall share the happy ever after. Thanks to your mother, I know precisely what that means.”
The adults in the room smiled and laughed, and the children began to chatter amongst themselves once more—until the butler came in, bearing a tray of marzipan. Then the children swarmed him.
Emmaline looked to their hosts. “Thank you, Ivy and West, for welcoming us this Christmas. It’s such a joy to be together.”
“And to have one more,” Ivy said, glancing warmly toward Natalie.
“Next year, there will be at least one more,” Fanny said, indicating her belly, which only barely revealed the bump of a babe.
Arabella snuggled closer into her husband’s embrace on a small settee. “Two.”
“Congratulations!” Lionel said. “Make sure you aren’t outside when your time comes—either one of you.” He winked at them.
Emmaline stroked Natalie’s cheek. “Oh, I think it worked out fine.”
“More th
an,” Lionel agreed.
“Hmm, it appears to be our turn,” West said softly to Ivy, but Emmaline caught it.
Apparently, Lionel heard him too for he grinned and said, “Go upstairs then.”
West’s eyes sparkled as he gazed at his wife. “I intend to.”
Lionel laughed. “Always the Duke of Desire.”
“Always,” Ivy murmured.
Thank you so much for reading The Bachelor Earl. I hope you enjoyed it! Don’t miss the rest of The Untouchables, starting with The Forbidden Duke!
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