You Never Forget Your First Earl

by Ella Quinn

  Each day she felt stronger, but Geoffrey refused to make love to her until the doctor proclaimed her well enough to travel. “I am not going to risk injuring you, my love.”

  He called her “my love” a great deal and she never tired of hearing it. “Have it your way, but do not be surprised at the results.”

  Giving her a wicked grin, he didn’t even pretend not to understand her. “I shan’t.”

  The next day, Riddle returned accompanied by four soldiers and a message from Sir Charles instructing Geoffrey to remain with his wife until she was well enough to travel. The older man also apologized for not having the forethought of providing them with an escort when their horse threw a shoe.

  A week later, the doctor said she was well enough to travel. Which was a very good thing. She was tired of being treated like an invalid.

  * * *

  Geoff was determined that he and Elizabeth would have a romantic evening after which he’d do his damnedest to keep their lovemaking slow. The thought struck him that this was the first time he had used that term for mating. Yet it was apt, and he should have recognized it before.

  He arranged for them to dine in the garden. He had wanted candles, but the sun was still high and wouldn’t set until nine o’clock or so.

  Going to her bedchamber, he knocked on the door before opening it. Elizabeth was as exquisite as usual in a pale pink evening gown trimmed with blond lace showing her bosom to perfection. Yet, what surprised him was that instead of her pale golden curls being styled in an elaborate design, they tumbled down her back, controlled only by a thin ribbon. “Do not think I am complaining, but is your head still hurting?”

  “No.” She grinned. “I merely thought you might like it this way.”

  Strolling forward he reached out, running his hand over the silken mass. “You were right. I love your hair almost as much as I love you.”

  Elizabeth chuckled and slid her hands over his chest and shoulders, until her fingers tangled with his hair. “I love you.”

  “I love you. I am never going to get tired of saying that.” He’d thought it, love, would never happen to him. Pulling her against him, he sought her mouth. “I love your kisses and the way your body fits to mine.”

  “I love the way you touch me.” Her eyes twinkled alluringly. “Perhaps we could dine in here again.”

  “That is a tempting offer, but I think you will enjoy what I have planned.” He placed her hand on his arm. “Come, my love.”

  Geoff led her to the garden where the table was set and waited.

  Her face lit with joy. “It is beautiful! Oh, Geoffrey, what a wonderful idea.”

  “I hoped you would think so.” He motioned and their butler carried out a tray with two glasses and a bottle of champagne. Handing one to her, he said, “To your recovery.”

  “To our life together,” she said, taking a sip of wine.

  “To our very long life together.” Once they arrived in Paris, he’d make sure she was never in danger again.

  After dining, they strolled the rest of the gardens, and kissed, not caring who saw them. Elizabeth was finally his in every way. To think it took almost losing her . . . How stupid he had been.

  Later, it seemed they both held back, wanting their lovemaking to last, and when they finally came, it was together and better than it had ever been.

  * * *

  Their assemblage reached Sir Charles’s party the day before it rode into Paris with King Louis XVIII. Much to their relief, the crowds, though huge, were cheering the return of their monarch. Immediately, plans were made for grand dinners and balls to celebrate the occasion.

  Geoff and Elizabeth wasted no time finding their house, a grand old building, not far from the British embassy. In an amazingly short period, Elizabeth made the house seem like home, and they planned their own entertainment. It was not until several days later that he discovered, after speaking with the agent, that his father actually owned the house.

  “It has been in your family for three generations, my lord,” the agent said. “Your great-grandfather wished to have a Paris residence. Your grandparents and parents also resided here.”

  “I’m surprised it wasn’t requisitioned.” So many people had lost their houses.

  “The servants protected it, and it was rented to a merchant who did business with Napoleon. Once he lost, the man had no reason to remain in the house.”

  “Were you responsible for that?”

  The man bowed. “Your mother was very sad to leave. I hope you and your lady will be as happy here as she was.”

  Later that evening, when he and Elizabeth were having tea, he remembered to tell her about the house.

  “And that would be the reason for the green bedchamber.” She pressed her lips together and she shook her head. “As much as I care for your mother, I wonder about her taste in decoration.”

  “What, on earth, does her leaving Paris have to do with the bedchamber in London?”

  “Has no one told you?” she asked.

  “Told me what?” He gazed at her, waiting to be educated.

  “Your mother told me that once a boy is born, they had to move back to England. It’s a tradition in your family that the heir may not remain overseas with his first son. She loved Paris and was extremely upset to have to leave after you were born.”

  Geoff shook his head. “You mean to say that I was born here?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Did no one tell you? Apparently, your father was born here as well.”

  “No one said a word.” To think Father and Geoff were both born in Paris, and no one thought to tell him. “So you mean to tell me that if we have a male child, we’ll be made to return to England, but if we have girls we remain here?”

  “Precisely.” She set her cup down.

  “Please promise me you will not redecorate your bedchamber in dismal colors when we go back to London.”

  She laughed lightly. “I promise.” Rising Elizabeth slid him a glance. “You must promise as well.”

  “Naturally, I—wait. I’m not in charge of decorating anything.”

  “You might help with the nursery.”

  “You’re with child?” Geoff hadn’t thought he could be any happier than to be with the woman who was the love of his life, but this?

  “I think so.” She pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth. “I have not had my courses since we wed. That has never happened before.”

  Grabbing her, he lifted her up and swung her around. “We’re going to be parents!”

  Epilogue

  Eight months later

  “Mother, what the deuce is that thing?” Geoff raised his quizzer as a particularly ugly piece of furniture, at least he thought it was furniture, was carried through the door.

  Less than two weeks after he had notified his parents that Elizabeth was in a delicate condition, his mother and grandmother made plans to arrive for the birth, along with Elizabeth’s aunt.

  “A birthing chair,” his grandmother said. “It will make Elizabeth’s time much easier. I wish I’d had one.”

  This wasn’t making any sense. “If it’s not yours, where did you get it?”

  “Lady Kenilworth sent it.” His grandmother watched Kenton maneuver the chair up the stairs. “Elizabeth told her we were coming to Paris. She recommended it.”

  “I hope you’ve been praying for a boy,” Mama said.

  Geoff had almost rolled his eyes when his wife had told him about his mother’s way of ensuring a girl. It hadn’t worked the third time for her.

  Fortunately, he was saved from answering by Elizabeth waddling into the hall.

  “I heard the commotion and knew it had to be you.” She embraced his mother. “No matter what I say, the prevailing belief in our house at the moment is that I should not be disturbed.” She raised a brow at Geoff. “I wonder where that came from, hmm?”

  Perhaps he was being a little overcautious. But when she’d told him she was expecting their first child, he counte
d back and realized she had been pregnant when she’d been shot. It was a miracle Elizabeth had not lost the child.

  His mother peered at her. “You look as if you are about to deliver.”

  “Any day now.” She smiled. “I am so ready to have this baby.”

  “I remember those days,” Mama said. “It’s as if it has worn out its welcome.”

  “I just want to hold her in my arms.” Elizabeth rubbed her stomach.

  Geoff was tempted to roll his eyes again. From the beginning Elizabeth had referred to the baby as a girl—exactly opposite from what his mother did.

  He didn’t care if the child was a boy or a girl. Yes, he liked Paris and his position, but he would be happy wherever Elizabeth and his child were.

  “If you’ll take my advice,” his father murmured. “You’ll pray for her to be happy. Your mother might not remember when she decorated her bedchambers those dismal shades of green, but I do. It was after she had you. Not that she loved you any less; she simply wished to remain in Paris.”

  * * *

  Late that night, or early the next morning, depending on one’s point of view, Elizabeth’s eyes popped open. No light slipped through their east-facing window, and between her legs the bed was wet. As she debated waking Geoffrey, her first contraction came. It wasn’t bad, but she doubted she would get much more sleep. Not only that, but the linens had to be changed.

  She almost left him where he was, but he had been hovering over her for months, and she did not want to scare him by simply disappearing. “Geoffrey, love. We should move into my room. Even if we do not sleep, we can rest. I don’t want to wake the whole house when it will be hours before anything of import occurs.”

  Still asleep, he rolled over, pulling her next to him. Then, as if he sensed there was something amiss, he opened his eyes. “It’s begun, hasn’t it?”

  “I am afraid so. My water broke, and I had my first contraction. It is going to be a long day. I suggest we move into my room and try to rest.”

  A few hours later, the sun began its slow ascent above the horizon. After they’d climbed into her bed, Geoffrey held her back against his chest, his hand over her swollen stomach. Elizabeth had just experienced another contraction.

  “They are getting closer. I’ve been watching the clock.” He rubbed her belly again. “What can I do to help you?”

  She had received letters from Dotty, Louisa, and Charlotte, all of whom had recently given birth and were full of advice. Some of it contradictory. Elizabeth had yet to understand how one could remain on her feet and have a foot rub at the same time.

  When she had mentioned it to Geoffrey, he’d chuckled. “I think you can sit down long enough for me to rub your feet.”

  The most embarrassing piece of advice though came from Dotty—she must spend a great deal of time talking to her tenants because no lady would give that type of counsel. Elizabeth blushed just thinking about it. “I have heard that making love can hurry the process along.”

  For a moment, Geoffrey looked at her as if she had gone mad. Then he barked a laugh. “In that case, my lady, there is no time like the present. Never let it be said I did not do all within my power to bring our daughter into the world.”

  Three hours later, Geoff perched on a chair next to Elizabeth and watched in awe as the tiny person they had made was cradled in his wife’s arms, nursing. Downy wisps of pale blond curls covered their daughter’s head, and one small hand gripped Elizabeth’s nightgown, pressing down on her breast. The midwife had arrived just as Elizabeth began to push.

  He thanked the deities for Mrs. Robins—who was the eldest of a large family and had attended her mother more than once—for her knowledge and Vickers for her placid, good sense. Much to his surprise, the birthing chair actually seemed to help.

  For the first two hours after the birth, it seemed as if every servant in the house found a reason for entering the room to see the baby. He was almost surprised their grooms and coachmen hadn’t come up.

  According to Nettle, who had gone to the stables with the news, Riddle and Farley were arguing about which one would be the first to put the baby on her pony when she was old enough.

  Geoff sighed. He should have taken his daughter downstairs, but he did not want her to take a chill.

  “Have you decided on a name?” They had been debating several names and combinations and he finally told Elizabeth to choose.

  Brushing her hand over the baby’s head, she smiled. “I have. Theodosia Unity Jane.”

  “I know where Jane comes from, my mother. I assume Theodosia is your mother.” Elizabeth nodded. “But Unity?”

  Elizabeth covered his hand with hers. “To remind us how fortunate we are to have achieved our unity together.”

  Raising her hand he pressed his lips to her fingers. “Perfect.”

  Author Note

  Those of you who have studied Waterloo and the events leading up to it, and I hope some of you have, will have noticed that I condensed the timeline. I did that because this is not a book about Waterloo. Instead, the events became a secondary character in the book. For readers who were frustrated that I didn’t go deeper into the Battle of Waterloo, please remember that Harrington was not a soldier, and he could only know what he read in Wellington’s dispatches to Sir Charles. There weren’t nearly enough of them as far as I’m concerned. As in the story, Sir Charles and Wellington left within a day or so—from what I’ve been able to discover—to rush King Louis XVIII to Paris.

  Because of my son and husband’s involvement in contemporary wars, writing anything about a battle is not something I wished to dwell upon. Quite frankly, I cried my way through the parts placed in Brussels and upset the flight attendants because I was on my way to a conference when I was writing it.

  I can’t tell you how happy I was when Geoffrey and Elizabeth were on their way to Paris.

  For those of you who have read my series, The Marriage Game, you might have noticed the character Colonel Lord Hawksworth as being the hero of Miss Featherton’s Christmas Prince. His brother, Lord Septimius Trevor, first appeared in Lady Beresford’s Lover.