“Well, I am glad about Lady Paget because I like her very much. And you need not frown over Teddy. I thought it best to discover her opinion before giving you my reply because had she objected, it would have delayed matters, though the outcome would eventually have been the same. But I am happy to report she only had good things to say about you as a possible father, and was unsurprisingly excited at the prospect, and almost as happy as I am that we will all be living under the one roof as a family.”
Christopher glanced over Mary’s head across the hall to where Kate and Teddy were by the fireplace. Predictably, Teddy was not still, but showing Kate the steps of the minuet. Christopher looked back down at Mary, his frown returning.
“She does not object to living at Brycecomb Hall?”
Mary shook her head, mirth lighting up her eyes. “It would seem not. She tells me that it would only be for a short while, because she means to return to live at Abbeywood when she marries Jack. She says it is the best outcome for everyone.”
“Good—God! What a little schemer! Does he know this?”
Mary shook her head. “Not yet. And best he doesn’t know until Teddy is at least eighteen.”
Christopher began to chuckle, then the frown returned when Mary added,
“There is one other matter Teddy says I must take into account before I agree to marry you and we move to be with you at Brycecomb. I see her point. It may take me some getting used to, particularly when the attachment to you is very great indeed. In fact, it may necessitate a delay to our marriage because—”
“No it won’t! Tell me what it is and it will be dealt with immediately.”
It was Mary’s turn to giggle, such was his despondency, and she briefly rested her forehead against his chest to control her laughter, before raising her chin and feigning surprise.
“But how can you be so cavalier as to sweep aside such devotion? I won’t allow you to do so. It would be inhuman!”
Christopher’s frown deepened as he racked his brains for who or what she was talking about. He did not have long to wait to find out because Mary’s teasing was cut short by her daughter, who had skipped up to them, and wishing to be noticed, loudly cleared her throat, then ruined the effect by giggling behind her gloved hand. The couple instantly sprang apart, coming to a sense of their surroundings, both blushing and feeling awkward. Teddy saw none of this, such was her excitement and need to know.
“Did you say yes to Uncle Bryce, Mama? Kate and I are anxious. And you have promised Uncle Bryce you will do your best not to be frightened of Lorenzo, haven’t you?” Before her mother could respond she turned to Christopher adding earnestly, “Mama is getting better and better with dogs. She held Nera yesterday and allowed her on her lap for the longest time. So I’m very sure that if you introduce her to Lorenzo in the right way, she will see that he is a most obliging animal and get used to having him around, too. Look! Here’s Cousin Duchess and the baby!”
Everyone in the hall turned to the staircase. There on the landing was Antonia, Duchess of Kinross, in a froth of white silk-embroidered quilted petticoats, and behind her the Duke, grinning from ear to ear and holding in his arms his baby daughter, wrapped up in soft layers, her thatch of soft dark hair covered by a beautifully embroidered pink silk christening cap.
Teddy gave her mother’s arm a tug, and when she looked about, whispered loudly,
“Did you say yes, Mama? Did you say yes, you’ll marry Uncle Bryce?”
Christopher looked down at her, and then looked to Mary with a raise of one eyebrow, but said nothing.
Mary smiled and put her hand on his sleeve, “Mr. Bryce, there is nothing on this earth I want more than to be your wife, and so my answer is—yes!”
She smiled at Teddy who was clapping and jumping on the spot, and in the next moment found herself swept off her feet, Christopher so overjoyed and relieved he lost all sense of decorum. He twirled Mary round and round before setting her down again. But he did not let her go. She did not want him to. Her arms went up about his neck and held fast. They enjoyed the moment, so long in coming, and the world around them melted away as they abandoned themselves to a long, lingering kiss.
“Bon. You see now, Jonathon, why I told you this christening it would not be the only event this week,” Antonia said mildly as she joined the kissing couple at the base of the staircase. “Elsie’s godmother she is to be married, and to a gentleman I approve, and that pleases me very much.”
THE CHRISTENING at the Roxton Family Chapel was an intimate affair, attended by family and upper servants. Elspeth, Marchioness of Leven, was on her best behavior and slept in her father’s arms throughout the service. When she protested, she had every right to do so when her forehead was sprinkled with holy water. Her godparents solemnly swore to watch over her and to bring her up in the ways of the Church of England, Lord Henri-Antoine swallowing hard and looking more stern, if that were possible. But his mother saw how proud he was to have this honor bestowed upon him and to share it with his cousin Lady Mary, and her eyes filled with tears thinking how equally proud her beloved Monseigneur would be of their son, and more than a little conceited that he had such a great look of him.
At the conclusion of the service, everyone bundled into their coats and into carriages that had hot bricks wrapped and placed on the floors to ward off the winter cold. The short journey back across the bridge to Crecy Hall was uneventful, and the guests were treated to hot punch and a warm fire in the Great Hall, to the accompaniment of the Duke of Roxton’s string quartet, while they waited for the banquet to begin.
It was delayed by half an hour because two carriages, one containing the Duke and Duchess of Kinross and their precious bundle, and the other their closest servants, took a diversion to the family mausoleum. Only Antonia and Jonathon with Elsie entered the tomb. They were there for several minutes before Jonathon and his baby daughter emerged first, Antonia joining them in the carriage a few minutes later. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. And the party continued on their way to Crecy Hall.
After dinner, Teddy danced the minuet with Christopher and everyone applauded, not least because the girl danced well, but also because Christopher Bryce was an elegant and masterful practitioner of the art. Kate smiled knowingly, Martin Ellicott providing her with a running commentary of the reactions of various family members—ranging from awe to dumbstruck surprise—to her son’s skill on a dance floor.
It then came time for the newly-engaged couple to perform the minuet, Mary too happy to be apprehensive about dancing in front of her family. Her one regret was that her brother and his wife were not there to share in her happiness. This she voiced to Christopher as he led her out into the middle of the room, only for a commotion at the double doors at the far end of the hall to halt the music and the dance before it began.
Everyone turned as one and were stunned into silence when a large man with a dark full beard, who had in his arms a white blonde nymph, came through the open doors and strode towards them. Mary picked up a handful of her petticoats and rushed to meet them.
“Apologies for our tardiness. Fallen tree right in front of the gates. Rory said I should ride on ahead but I wasn’t going to leave her behind, now was I?”
“Dair! Dair, oh thank God you’re finally home!”
Alisdair, Major Lord Fitzstuart, heir presumptive to the earldom of Strathsay, showed a white smile in his black beard. “I am, Mary. And for good.” He put his wife gently to her feet, but kept an arm about her waist while his gaze scanned the happy smiling faces of his family. He leaned in to his sister’s ear, “Rory tells me you know our wonderful news—”
“I am so happy for you both,” Mary replied breathlessly and impulsively kissed his cheek. She unintentionally grimaced. “Oh dear, but I do think you’ll have to shave that off before the baby arrives.”
Rory laughed behind her hand at Mary’s reaction to her beloved’s beard. “Don’t fret, Mary. The new Earl of Strathsay will be clean shaven before the
ink dries on his letters patent.” She looked up at her husband. “Though I do love you as a pirate…”
Dair winked at his wife, then said to Mary in all seriousness, “I’d like to tell everyone our news, and then meet the newest member of the family, but first Rory says there’s a fellow I need to meet, and that he’ll be here. Says he’s in love with you. And you feel the same way about him.”
Mary regarded Rory with no small surprise that she had been able to make this assessment from her short stay in the Cotswolds. She smiled and blushed. “It would seem I am the last to know my own feelings!” And before her sister-in-law could respond, glanced over her shoulder, sensing a presence, and there were Christopher and Teddy.
Teddy broke from Christopher and ran up to her uncle and threw her arms around him. Dair picked her up and kissed her, then set her down and kept hold of her hand. He laughed when she pulled a face.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like my pirate beard!”
“I do, Uncle Dair! But I don’t want to kiss it! But you’re just the captain our pirate ship treehouse has been looking for. Isn’t he, Uncle Bryce?”
“Dair, may I introduce Mr. Christopher Bryce of Brycecomb Hall in Gloucestershire, and the man I am to marry in two days’ time. Mr. Bryce, this is my eldest brother, Major Lord Fitzstuart.”
Dair stuck out his hand. “Congratulations! Glad to make your acquaintance, and to have you as a member of the family.”
“That is very generous of you, my lord. And may I add, surprisingly unquestioning.”
“Generous? Mayhap. But unquestioning? Ha! Mary is my older sister. I’ve never questioned her judgment or offered her advice in my life. Not about to start now. That she wants to marry you, Mr. Christopher Bryce of Brycecomb Hall in Gloucestershire, is enough of a recommendation for me. Besides,” he added, smiling down at Rory. “My wife likes you. So I will too.” He looked back at Christopher and suddenly balked, losing his train of thought; so much so that he glanced about the room, as the rest of the family came up to welcome him home, to search out the Duchess of Roxton. Finding her he blinked, then regarded Christopher anew. “Good—Lord! Good. Lord. It’s—it’s uncanny! Has anyone—has anyone ever told you how much—how very much you resem—”
“Yes, my lord, they have,” Christopher interrupted, with a smile and a wink at Mary. He took hold of her hand. “And that is a story for another day…”
EPILOGUE
‘I STILL MAINTAIN the odds are in my favor!” the Duke of Kinross announced.
Antonia looked up from the book she was reading and smiled.
“So you have said more than twice in as many minutes, mon chéri,” she stated mildly and set aside Cassius Dio’s History. “But I told you how it is. And me I am rarely wrong in these matters, am I, Martin?”
Martin Ellicott placed his chess piece on the board and nodded solemnly, though there was a twinkle in his eye. “I do believe you have been correct upon every occasion there is a birth in the family, Mme la Duchesse.”
Antonia smiled and nestled against the cushion at her back. She reclined on the chaise longue in the pretty pavilion by the lake, mules kicked off to the marble floor, and her stockinged feet upon the silk cushions. With her book closed on a silk ribbon to hold a place, she took a moment to gaze out at the view of sweeping lawn and tranquil lake, where ducks with their ducklings were winding their way through the waters of the reedy bank. The sun was high in a cloudless sky and a cool breeze stirred the green fingers of the willow branches. It was an altogether blissful summer’s day, made all the more happy by the distant sounds of her grandchildren scampering about the pirate ship treehouse, and the more immediate noises of her baby daughter gurgling with delight as her papa carried her about in the crook of his arm while he paced the steps before her maman’s chaise.
“What do you think, Deborah?” Jonathon asked the Duchess of Roxton.
Deb Roxton was seated on a wingchair, her youngest child sprawled out asleep across her light silk petticoats, his chubby cheeks glowing red with the contentment that comes from a deep sleep. She sat opposite her husband’s godfather, a chess board on the table between them. She was sure Martin was about to put her in check, so when she looked up, it was with a frown of concentration between her brows.
“I truly cannot say. But Julian thinks it will be a boy.”
The Duke, who was seated near them on the cool marble slab between two fat columns, hair falling into his eyes, was tackling a knot in the strings of a kite belonging to his twin son Gus, and did not look up. “I have ten pounds riding on the outcome.”
“Ten pounds you are going to lose!” Jonathon stated with glee. “Your brother,” he said in a different voice as he opened wide his eyes and smiled, addressing his baby daughter and tickling the underside of her chubby chin, “is about to make your papa ten pounds richer.”
“No, he is not,” Roxton stated and sat up. He pulled back his hair and let out a satisfied sigh. “There! Knot undone and kite back in full working order.” He handed it off to one of the footmen who was waiting to return it to Lord Augustus at the treehouse. “Tell my third son that if he wishes his papa to fix anything else, he is to bring it to me himself and not have you waiting on him, Peter.”
“Why are you so confident, Julian?” Martin asked, intrigued. “I grant you have yet to be wrong in your predictions with your own children, but this is Lady Mary and Mr. Bryce’s progeny were are talking about.”
“He may have foretold the sex of our children, mon parrain, but his prediction fell miserably short with Rory and Dair’s babies.”
“You disloyal wretch, Deb!” Roxton threw at her lovingly. He stood and stretched his long legs, hands on his slim hips. “Twins! Who could’ve predicted twins? She’s such a waif. And one of each, too.”
“And you lost twenty pounds…” Antonia said airily.
“It’s all the fault of Uncle Lucian!” Roxton stated without heat. “He started this wager business with Julie’s birth and as far as I recall he never managed to win once.”
Antonia giggled. “Not once. He would be a great deal poorer today, too.”
“If I may correct a presumption, Julian,” Martin offered, sitting back after placing Deb’s king in check. “It was not with Julie’s birth but with your own that the tradition of the ten-pound wager began. Lord Vallentine dared to wager Monseigneur a pound that you, Mme la Duchesse, would be delivered of a son. M’sieur le Duc was most offended at the amount, and suggested ten. To which his lordship readily agreed. But in so doing, he found himself out–maneuvered, because your father wagered him ten pounds that your mother would deliver him a son and heir, and his lordship agreed. It was only on the handshake that Lord Vallentine realized what had occurred. With your birth, Julian, and the subsequent loss of his ten pounds, Lord Vallentine was determined to win it back from your father; he never did.”
“Naturellement. Monseigneur he has never lost a wager in his life.”
Martin inclined his head. “That is very true, Mme la Duchesse.”
Jonathon came up the stairs and placed Elsie into her mother’s arms then sprawled out beside her. “Well, I’ll be having words with Vallentine the next time I see him!”
No one made comment but no one thought it odd, either. It was well-known Kinross often accompanied his wife on her visits to the family mausoleum.
He leaned in and asked her quietly, “And where have you placed your ten pounds, sweetheart?”
Antonia smiled into Elsie’s beautiful face with her large blue eyes and mop of dark hair and kissed her chubby cheeks before settling her on her lap, little head supported against her drawn-up knees. She held her daughter’s hands and addressed her husband. “But you know where I have put my pounds, Jonathon. Mary and Christopher they will have a son. And I know his names, too. David Henry Renard Bryce. Mary, she told me.”
“What?! She wrote and told you her son’s name?” Jonathon was aghast. “Then why are we having this wager if you know it’s a boy and
you know his name?”
“Because we do not know. We await Jack and Henri-Antoine to arrive from the big house with the news.”
“At least they are not so far away, and nowhere near the birth!” Roxton stated. “But they again find themselves in the right place at the right time to deliver the news.”
“That is true, mon fils. They were with you when Julie she was born. And then they came here with the news.” Antonia smiled wistfully and leaned in to kiss her daughter’s fingers. “I remember that day as if it were yesterday, mon petit chou.” She glanced mischievously at Deborah and Martin and raised her brows before saying on a sigh that was at odds with the light in her green eyes, “Vallentine he lost ten pounds that day, too, and today, Elsie, your poor papa he will lose ten pounds also.”
Jonathon frowned. “How? How do you know that?”
“Because, my love, I do. And here comes my son and Jack across the lawn from the jetty. Which means they have rowed over to get here the quicker.”
Jack and Henri-Antoine were indeed striding across the lawn, Henri-Antoine with a sliver of paper between his fingers, which he held up and waved at the occupants of the pavilion. This seemed to bear out Antonia’s prediction that they had news to share of the impending birth of Lady Mary and Mr. Christopher Bryce’s first child.
Roxton came to stand behind his wife’s chair, and stared down at their sleeping fourth son, a hand lightly on Deb’s shoulder. “All I care about is that Mary came through it, and so did the baby.”
“She had no trouble with Teddy… I am confident all will be well. And by the boys’ smiles everything is. So,” Deb asked them, “you have news from Brycecomb Hall?”
Lord Henri-Antoine gave the letter to his mother. “We do. But we do not know what it is—yet.”
Antonia broke the seal and read the short note, which was written in Christopher’s strong hand. She then folded the paper and kept it in her fingers, but said nothing.
Jonathon sat forward. “Sweetheart? Well?”
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