Mrs Crabtree turned with a smile, holding a tiny bundle that scrunched up its little face and made kissing motions with his kitten mouth. “Your Grace. I congratulate you. A fine son.” She handed the bundle to Atwater.
He was transfixed. Never had he felt such love for any living being. The boy, although just a few minutes old bore a striking resemblance to the Duke. Atwater crossed the room and sat on the edge of Phoebe’s bed. He took her hand.
“My love. How do you feel?”
“I’m mighty tired, darling. But, I think this is worth it.” She smiled and feebly reached her hand up to run her finger along the baby’s jaw. “He’s perfect. I’d like to call him ... Thomas.”
“That sounds wonderful to me, my darling.” Atwater was touched that his wife would consent to naming her first child after his best friend. He’d been meaning to ask her, but he’d thought since she would do all the hard work in birthing his child, she should have the permission to name the baby. And here it had all turned out as he’d wanted.
Tom had stood by Atwater through thick and thin. He was a true and good friend, through and through. Atwater called from the hall for him to come and see the infant.
“Your Grace, he favours you in every way. What a handsome little man he is.”
“And his name is to be Thomas.”
Tom stopped cooing to the baby and looked at Atwater. “Thomas?”
“Yes, Lord Thomas Weston. Has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”
“May I hold him, Robert?”
“You may, of course.”
“Well, what do we have here?” Mary had just reached the top of the stairs.
She strode over to the men. “This must be the newest arrival to our whist club.” She laughed. “May I hold him?”
Tom carefully handed the swaddled bundle to Mary. “Oh Your Grace! La! If he doesn’t look just like you!”
“He’s to be named Thomas, Lady Mary.”
“Thomas?” She looked at her husband who was grinning ear to ear. “Your Grace, you are too kind.”
“Actually, it was Phoebe’s idea. I mean, I’d thought about asking her, but I’d thought she’d want to pick out our baby’s name, so I said nothing. She just told me that she wanted Thomas for our first child’s name.”
“Very well then, toastmaster. Do you have a toast in mind?” Mary laughed.
“I do, but I’d like to wait until Phoebe can partake. She’s tired. It was a very long night.”
“La, I know. Mrs Crabtree and Abby stayed with her while I went back to Pinebrook for a few hours. The poor thing needs rest. Let me go and see her quickly.
Phoebe had already drifted off to sleep,
“Mrs Crabtree, why don’t you get some rest? I can sit with Her Grace.”
“I will be getting breakfast for His Grace and Lord Thomas. Do you wish anything, My Lady?”
“Just some tea, Mrs Crabtree, thank you. I’ll let the men eat in the family sitting room. They have much to catch up on.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
Mary looked at Phoebe sleeping soundly and wondered at all of the events of the last two years that had brought them all here. She decided to wait on sharing the secret she’d been harbouring for two months.
*******
Abby was in the kitchen overseeing the preparation of a breakfast tray for Lady Mary. She had a feeling that Her Grace would probably not eat until later in the day. And then she would eat sparingly.
“Very good, Sally. Mrs Crabtree has taught you well. I think you are housekeeper material, for sure.”
The girl curtsied. “Thank you, Abby.”
Abby smiled. “Take this up to Lady Mary. Leave the infusion near the fire to stay warm. Mrs Crabtree said Her Grace must have a sip of this decoction each time she awakens. She won’t like it, but it will help her body to heal quickly.”
“Yes, Abby.”
The girl stepped out of the kitchen and headed for the back steps nearly crashing into Terence as she did.
“Mind, Sally. No need for that all to go on the floor.” Terence smiled at the girl and went into the servants’ hall next to the kitchen.
Abby sat at the table with a cup of coffee and her knitting. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and she looked rather tired.
“Abby.”
Startled, the young woman looked up. “Oh. Mr Sheridan.” She smiled and went back to her knitting. “It was a long night, but I take it Her Grace is as strong as a country peasant girl.”
“And how are you, Abby? Do you feel well?”
“I do, although I am exhausted. I can only imagine how Her Grace must feel. She must want to sleep for a fortnight.”
Terence smiled. “Tomorrow is Sunday, Abby.”
“Yes, Mr Sheridan. Then Monday starts the new week. I daresay the Duke and Duchess will be celebrating the birth of their child with some parties. Then it will be back to London for the season.”
“Yes, but as for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Yes? Is there something I can help you with, Mr Sheridan?”
“Yes, or rather, I mean I was, I was … There is the country harvest festival. I wondered, well I ...”
“Has the cat got your tongue, Mr Sheridan?” Abby teased.
He was just about to say it when Phoebe’s bell rang. Abby set her knitting on the chair. “I must go to Her Grace.” And she was gone, her footsteps echoing on the stairs as she climbed them.
Terence turned into the butlery and went to his room.
Epilogue
Three weeks later, the Atwaters made the trip back to London. The season was about to begin with a ball at Hudson House in honour of the birth of the little heir to the Dukedom of Atwater.
“Mary, la, the country agrees so well with you. You look lovely, my dear.”
Phoebe sat in her old sitting room on Wimpole Street. It now belonged to Mary. Mrs Crabtree had the baby at Regent Street, telling Phoebe that she needed to get out and socialize and get fresh air. She looked positively ravishing. “You and Tom are coming for whist tomorrow, are you not?”
“Of course. We wouldn’t miss it. You know how my husband is about cards. Almost as fanatic as you, I must say.” The two friends laughed.
Motherhood certainly agrees with you, dear Phoebe. You look more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you look. And I’ve seen you under many different lights on many different occasions.”
“Why thank you, Mary. It’s having the baby that did it. La! I feel sixteen again. As young and pretty as I was when I went away to boarding school in Paris.”
“I certainly hope something similar happens to me when my little one comes.” She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.
“What did you say, Mary?”
“Oh nothing. Just that I hope motherhood would take to me so kindly.”
“That is not what you said. Come now, Mary. This is Phoebe. Surely you realize I know you better than anyone. What did you say?”
Mary blushed and looked down quickly.
“Mary! Are you going to have a baby?”
Mary met Phoebe’s probing eyes. “Yes, Your Grace. I am. My little one had decided to accompany me to the London social season.”
“La! How grand. Now our little ones will grow up together. Oh, how wonderful.”
“I … I didn’t want to come in between you and your happiness, Phoebe. I was going to wait a few months before telling you.
“La! That is nonsense, Phoebe. Hearing your wonderful news only adds to my happiness. When does your bundle arrive?”
“Sometime in early April, I believe. Now, I have a question for you.”
“I have maternity frocks; of course you may borrow them.”
“No, I, I’m having some made. What I want to ask you is … well, I know your labour was long, but was it terrible? I mean, did you pray for death?”
Phoebe giggled. “No. I didn’t pray for death. Mary, for shame! The labour was long, but the pain was never excruciating. And for that I have Mrs C
rabtree to thank. My hips are narrow. She’d given me herbs to facilitate the birthing. And you’ve seen how quickly I’ve recovered.”
“I know. And look I was just wondering if I might talk with Mrs Crabtree. I won’t take her away from her work, I promise.”
“It will be fine. I’m not worried about that. I shall ring for her now.”
Mrs Crabtree came to the door of the kitchen.
“Yes, Your Grace? Little Thomas is sound asleep. Hello, Lady Mary. Are the two of you ready for dinner?”
“We are, but I want to ask you something first.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Will you have a consult with Lady Mary? She needs potions and infusions much as I did.”
“Very well, Your Grace.” Mrs Crabtree turned to head back out of the sitting room and return to the nursery. She’d moved her bedroom upstairs until such time as a proper nanny became employed. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. She looked back over her shoulders at these two women she loved as if they were her own daughters.
“Did you say potions and infusions such as I made for you, Your Grace?”
“That is exactly what I said, Mrs Crabtree.” Phoebe smiled and placed her arm around her friend. “Lady Mary is to have a baby.”
*******
It was late. The Radcliffes had stayed to supper, and they’d all enjoyed a few rounds of whist before calling an end to the evening.
Atwater had played toastmaster and had made toasts to everyone, staff included. It had been a joyous celebration, and everyone had left the festive event with full stomachs and smiling faces.
Atwater and Phoebe walked, arm and arm, upstairs to their chambers. First they stopped in the nursery to see their child. They stood, silently, watching the little one as he slept. They sent out their silent thanks to God and their silent blessings to their child.
In just a little over a month, a new year would be upon them. A year which promised more contentment and happiness. They marvelled at the fleet footed quality of time and wanted to preserve the feeling of this moment.
“I will come to you tonight, my darling, if you are up to it. I wish only to hold you in my arms.”
“I can think of no other way I’d prefer to sleep this night but wrapped up against you in sweet slumber, love.”
They gazed deep into each other’s eyes then. Eyes filled with promises of more tender and intimate moments such as this one. They both leaned down and kissed their baby, then quietly left the room.
Atwater walked Phoebe to her chambers. They entered and walked to the door of the corridor that separated Atwater’s room from hers. Soon, Abby would come to help her mistress prepare for bed.
“I shall come back in thirty minutes, Your Grace.”
Phoebe stood on her toes and kissed her husband sweetly. “No, my love, do not go.” She kissed him again with a sweet hunger that lit a fire within him. He picked her up and carried her to the bed.
“I’m not going anywhere, my love.”
THE END
Can't get enough of Phoebe and Robert? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…
What future awaits Charlotte Evans, after all she has done?
Will Lady Phoebe ever be able to forgive her, or even forget about had happened?
Will our beloved couple get to have the family they've always dreamt of?
Click the link or enter it into your browser
http://bridgetbarton.com/phoebe
(After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters from “The Secret Admirer of an Extraordinary Lady”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)
The Secret Admirer of an Extraordinary Lady
Introduction
Lydia Gibbs is much more interested in drawing beautiful dresses than settling for something less than a fairytale love. But when she unexpectedly starts receiving anonymous letters from a secret admirer, she begins to dream of a love she never knew she could have. The situation becomes further complicated when she starts to see a different side of her childhood friend, someone she used to despise as a young girl. Will she dare to fall for someone she has never even met, or will she realise that someone else entirely is worth her attention?
Anthony Boyle has always found pleasure in teasing his best friend’s little sister. When one day he takes it too far and she walks off leaving him standing with everyone looking at him, he starts plotting his revenge. But the lesson he’s planning to teach her is one he will be taught himself when he starts realising that he has fallen in love with her. How will he be able to resolve the situation he created without losing the only woman he has ever loved?
Anthony and Lydia will find themselves in amusing situations where one will always be a step ahead of the other. Who will be the one to claim Lydia’s heart when all the cards are on the table?
Prologue
“You’ve no proper understanding of the game, Lydia.” The new girl stood opposite her with her small arms crossed across her chest in a pretty pout. The girl had arrived only yesterday in the county and her family’s decision to let the squire’s acreage had caused a stir in the countryside surrounding everything nine-year-old Lydia held dear.
“I do too have an understanding,” she shot back at the newcomer. “The game of graces isn’t that hard, after all. ‘Tis only dull.”
She looked longingly across the yard to a sunny space of grass where her brother Gregory was engaged in a rigorous game of lawn bowls with a few of the neighbourhood lads.
They were older than her and looked to be having a good deal more fun frolicking to their hearts’ content while she and this pale little girl stood in their best muslin and attempted to toss a beribboned ring lightly between two pairs of sticks.
Sighing, she tried to attend to her lot, catching the ring on one of the sticks and righting it before sending it back to the girl.
“Marilyn, is it?” she asked, trying not to sound bored. “How have you found the county thus far?”
“It is well,” the other girl replied demurely, bowing her head with all the delicate grace Lydia’s own mother was constantly trying to instil. “We’ve a lake at the back of the squire’s place, and some very fine walks.”
“I would hardly call it a lake,” Lydia ventured, tossing her long brown hair over one shoulder. It hung nearly to her waist and swung warm and heavy against her back. “Papa has a lake where he fishes and boats on occasion beyond our orchard. I’ll show you some time if you like and you needn’t be shackled to that little pond at the squire’s.”
She hadn’t meant to sound imperious but saw from the other girl’s expression that her words were ill received. The girl, shorter and slimmer with big blue eyes and feather-like blonde hair, seemed to shrink under some unspoken reproof. Lydia, who had been raised to be kind in all matters, felt a sharp stab of conscience and rushed to amend her statement.
“But ‘tis a nice place all around, and I’m sure you have some very pleasant fish.”
Love Stories of Enchanting Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 84