After Mark gave his card, a maid showed them into the drawing room. Nash’s eyes were like saucers as he looked around the well-appointed room.
Moments later, a young man of about twenty entered. He bowed and greeted them politely, his eyes resting on Nash.
Eleanor stared, shocked. He was blond with blue eyes and looked like an older version of Nash.
“Are you visiting the area?” he asked. “May I offer you refreshment?”
“No, thank you,” Mark said. “We wished to speak to the baron.”
He looked confused. “I am Frederick, Baron Burton.”
“You are?” Eleanor said. “Then your father has passed away?”
“Some years ago. What is this about?” He waved an arm toward the group of chairs around the fireplace.
Eleanor remained standing, fighting to remain calm, her heart beating unnaturally fast. “We should like to introduce you to your father’s child.”
His eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
She put a reassuring hand on Nash’s back. “This is Nash.”
Frederick’s blue eyes returned to Nash. He nodded thoughtfully. “Nash is a family name.”
Eleanor started. So it was true. “We’d like to know why your father did not return to support his mother.”
“Do sit, please,” Frederick said, brushing a hand through his fair hair. “I believe we’re in need of tea or something stronger. This is all a little overwhelming.”
Once they were seated, he began to explain. “My father fell from his horse and was killed when I was eleven. I was away at school at the time.”
“Was the school Hall Place in Bexley?”
He nodded. “I was sent to Eaton soon after.”
As they drank their tea, Frederick spoke of his father, what a good man he was. “He would have wanted to help your mother, Nash.”
“Thank you for seeing us, Lord Burton,” Eleanor said, putting down her cup. “It has cleared up a mystery.”
“Is there a problem with money? I can certainly…”
“No.” Mark climbed to his feet. “That isn’t necessary.”
“I wish there was more I could do,” Frederick said, “but I am about to leave for my grand tour, and there isn’t anyone…”
Mark came to shake his hand. “There is no need. Nash will be well cared for.”
Frederick looked relieved. “I’m glad.” He shook Nash’s hand. “I hope you will write to me one day, Nash, and tell me how you go on.”
Nash nodded. He’d not said a word and looked so tired and confused, Eleanor kept a hand on his shoulder.
When they were on the road again, Nash climbed on to her lap. He was heavier than the last time. “You won’t be able to do this for much longer,” she said, hugging him.
“I don’t blame him for trying though,” Mark said with a grin.
“Can I stay with you, then, Eleanor?” Nash asked.
“Yes, forever, sweetheart. Isn’t that right, Mark?”
“Absolutely.”
Nash smiled and closed his eyes.
Epilogue
Broadstairs Park, Surrey, Christmas
Christmas was always a family affair. They all came, and friends visited if the weather permitted. There was caroling, church services, and they drank mulled wine and ate mince pies with a lot of good humor around the fire in the drawing room laden with holly and greenery, while snow fell softly beyond the windows painting the landscape white.
Nash, his blond hair neatly curling around his ears, all coltish legs, and arms in his beautiful clothes, played quoits in the gallery with Georgina and Hugh’s young son, Aubrey John, while their baby daughter, Emily, watched from her nanny’s arms.
The conversation turned to the king, and most were incensed that he had refused his wife, Caroline, entry to Westminster Abbey for his elaborate coronation, which he’d intended to rival Napoleon’s. Sadly, the queen had since died.
“I’ve retired from my government post and advised the king,” Mark said. “As he ignored my entreaty to drop the unpopular Pains and Penalties Bill in his unsuccessful attempt to divorce the queen, I have nothing more to offer.”
“I can quite understand,” Hugh said. “His Majesty’s judgement has been poor in this regard.”
“And in so many other matters,” Eleanor said, picking up the glass snow globe from a table that Nash’s half-brother had sent him. She turned it upside down. Snow drifted over a charming village scene. Frederick had written that he’d discovered it in Switzerland during his tour, and Nash was seldom parted from it. Eleanor suspected the two would meet again when the baron returned to England.
“Sit down, Eleanor,” Mark said. “You’ve been on your feet all morning.”
Eleanor put a hand on her large stomach as she sat. “I am perfectly well, darling. Don’t fuss. The doctor says I am an excellent patient.”
He smiled down at her, his eyes strained. She patted his cheek, knowing she could do little to ease his worry.
“Perhaps we should have remained in London,” he said, “With your time so near.”
“But I wished to be here. And I didn’t want to disappoint Nash. Hugh has an excellent stable of thoroughbreds, and Nash has become a fine horseman, you said so yourself.”
He raised his brows, a smile lurking in his eyes. “You know that isn’t the reason. We have a fine stable at home.”
“No.” She placed a hand on his arm in appeal. “But I’m not due for a couple of weeks and I wanted to spend Christmas with my family. We don’t see each often enough when the Season ends.”
Mark gave a resigned nod. “It’s very pleasant, I must say.”
Eleanor stilled at the small uncomfortable pull in her stomach. “Hugh says a London surgeon has a country house only a few miles away.”
Mark studied her. She eased herself clumsily out of the chair, wishing to remove herself from his worrying gaze, but a sharp pain made her knees buckle.
Mark caught her and yelled. He swept her up as Georgina and Hugh hurried over. “Call that surgeon,” he said in a brittle voice and strode toward the door.
*
The wait was excruciating. Mark tried not to think of the last time he’d been in this position, when the outcome had been so devastating. Georgina tried to make him rest and eat, and Hugh came to offer support as he trod a path in the hall rug.
Finally, the doctor came to give him the news. Eleanor’s had been a long confinement, all through the night and well into the next day. Mark entered the bedchamber where she rested on pillows, her face as pale as the bed linens. He knelt beside the bed, taking in the purple shadows beneath her eyes. “Are you well, my love?”
“Yes. Sit beside me.” She patted the bed. “And meet your daughter, Maria.”
It was true. He wasn’t dreaming. A lump blocking his throat as he pressed a kiss to Eleanor’s hand and examined the small bundle tucked into her arm; the tiny sweet face, the wisp of blonde hair peeping from her cap. Maria. His mother’s name. “She is in good health?” He feared he would disgrace himself and cry.
“We are both perfectly well. I’m sure the doctor told you so.”
“Yes, he did, but I never believe anything until I see it for myself.”
She reached out and stroked his cheek. “And what do you see?”
He felt light-headed. “My beautiful wife and daughter. My life is complete, Eleanor.”
She smiled. “You might kiss me, darling,” she said in mock disapproval. “And please send for Nash. He will want to meet his new sister. I’m sure he is driving everyone mad.”
The End
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Eleanor Fitzherbert’s Christmas Miracle (Dangerous Lords Book 5) Page 6