Earl of Oakhurst

by Madeline Martin

  And what a distraction the feast was. There was roast goose and mincemeat pies and several types of puddings. More food than any of them could possibly eat. Garlands of holly and evergreens covered every banister, accompanied by gold paper stars, while ivy hung like veils of lace over each doorway.

  There was even a large evergreen tree set at the far end of the drawing room with small candles lit throughout its boughs.

  “Aren’t you afraid it will set the house afire?” Penelope’s mother asked.

  Penelope slid a glance toward James. Those had been her very words when he suggested it. “I’ve been reassured it will be fine.”

  “Aye.” He put an arm around her shoulder. “They’ve been lighting candles in trees since Queen Elizabeth’s reign.”

  Immediately, the heat of his strong body made her melt in the most wonderful way. Penelope edged closer to her husband, grateful for the feel of him against her.

  “Did all the fires spreading through England make them stop?” Penelope’s Uncle Noah asked.

  Aunt Helen nudged his side and he spared her an affronted look.

  “We can thank Oliver Cromwell for abolishing those Christmas festivities,” James replied. “As well as many other nefarious deeds I’ll no’ get into on such a fine day of celebrating.”

  “I think it’s all beautiful,” Eugenia said, her eyes bright. “I want to have one in my house every year after I am wed.”

  “Have you a gentleman in mind already?” Penelope asked.

  “No, but I’m sure Mama will find a suitable man to match me with.” Eugenia glanced at Lady Bursbury with clear expectation.

  “God help you,” Noah muttered.

  “I heard that, Noah.” Lady Bursbury slid her brother a hard look, to which he simply replied with a smirk.

  “Or maybe I’ll introduce you as I did with Lord Oakhurst and our Penelope.” Lord Bursbury adjusted his cravat. “Perhaps your mother isn’t the only matchmaker in the family.” He raised his brows playfully at Penelope’s mother.

  Lady Bursbury’s mouth fell open. “Elias, don’t you dare go on taking credit for this match. You know well and good they never would have fallen in love if it weren’t for me.”

  “They’d never have had the chance, were I not there to introduce them.” Lord Bursbury winked at Penelope, his eyes twinkling as he clearly had his fun with Lady Bursbury.

  “Were it not for my gifts—”

  “Gifts?” Eugenia piped in. “What gifts?”

  “I believe this is the part of the conversation where we slide away,” Penelope whispered to James. “I certainly don’t want to hear the answer.”

  James looked toward Lady Bursbury’s stricken face. “Oh, but I do.”

  The room fell silent as all eyes fell on Lady Bursbury, who stammered and stuttered before finally exclaiming, “Oh do look at the time! I feel we’ve stayed longer than is polite.” She primly fluffed the flounces on her sleeves.

  “Ah, that old trick.” The tender smile on Uncle Noah’s lips as he spoke said everything his jests did not.

  Lady Bursbury swatted at him. “We must give Lord and Lady Oakhurst time to properly ready themselves to leave for Paris.”

  “That’s not for several more days,” Penelope said with a laugh.

  “Well,” Lady Bursbury sniffed. “You need to ensure you have everything you need, is what I meant.”

  “That’s verra considerate of ye, Lady Bursbury.” James inclined his head.

  The carriages were summoned for Penelope’s aunt and uncle as well as her parents, and farewells followed swiftly afterward.

  Lady Bursbury was the last to leave as she fiddled with a bit of garland at the foot of the stairs.

  “You were the one who suggested we take our leave, dearest,” Penelope’s father gently called in her direction. “Come on then, lest I match Eugenia before you get a chance, woman.”

  Lady Bursbury startled. “Oh, you wicked man, do not even set your mind to it.” She rushed over, embracing first James’s grandmother, then James. And then, finally, she came to Penelope, her face beaming.

  Lady Bursbury settled her hands on Penelope’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, daughter. I always have been.”

  Penelope smiled at her mother. “I know,” she said honestly. “You’ve never made me feel ashamed of who I was, and you always encouraged me regardless. I’m so humbly grateful.”

  Lady Bursbury put a hand to her chest and her eyes misted with tears. “No, don’t. I can’t go to the carriage in tears or I’ll never hear the end of it from your father.” She waved her gloved hand in front of her face as though that might dry her tears.

  “Is there anything I ought to expect in my traveling trunks?” Penelope asked as she embraced her mother.

  Lady Bursbury gently squeezed her daughter the way she always did when she hugged those she loved. “I make no promises,” she said cheerily and was gone before Penelope could even open her mouth to comment.

  “What are these?” Gemma asked from where she studied the garland at the foot of the stairs. “Weren’t these at your wedding as well?”

  Penelope approached with James following closely behind her. There, nestled among the gold paper stars was what appeared to be a gold paper liver, as well as gold paper lungs and a gold paper brain.

  “Organs,” Penelope said with a smile. “Several years back, we were asked to cut out stars for Christmas decorations. I had recently finished a fascinating account of the body’s organs and did those instead of stars since I assumed they were simply for entertainment.”

  She gently brushed her finger over a delicate tissue-paper heart. “When I realized they were for decoration in the house, I immediately made stars instead. My mother said nothing and still hung the little organs up with all of the stars.”

  “She did it up the whole flight of stairs.” Gemma looked up the banister then strode over to the bunch of holly running along the edge of a table.

  Her gait was even and smooth, without a hint of the former hobble she’d exhibited when Penelope first met her. While the Dowager Lady Oakhurst indulged on occasion, it was rarely done, and her walks had been frequent, most of them with Penelope. It had strengthened the bond between them and helped Gemma’s body fight off the effects of gout. And even if another flare up did occur, Penelope would be there to aid her.

  “They’re on this bunch of holly as well.” Gemma pointed to the back table. “And there too. I see them.”

  Penelope grinned at the discovery. “My mother can work the most wondrous things when no one is looking.”

  “I’ll no’ disagree with ye on that.” James slid his arm around Penelope’s waist.

  Her cheeks immediately heated, as well as other various locations. She looked up into his handsome face, and all of her felt as though it were smiling. He had shown her acceptance though she had never sought it from society, and he had helped her realize her heart could embrace someone beyond her family. That love and intellect could not only exist together but thrive in the most beautiful fashion.

  “What are ye thinking when ye look at me like that?” he asked with that roguish grin of his.

  “That I love you,” she said with all the emotion in her soul.

  He kissed her gently.

  “This old woman knows when it’s time to retire.” Gemma rushed past them and made way for the stairs.

  “Ye dinna need to, Gemma,” James called after her.

  “Bah!” She spun about and shook her finger at James. “I want a great-grandchild.” Then she sweetly wished them a “Happy Christmas” and slipped up the stairs.

  “I suppose we have our orders.” James offered Penelope his arm and led her up the stairs.

  “And what do you think of her demand?” Penelope asked, her pulse pattering a little faster. It was something she’d considered through the days following her realization that she truly did love James MacKenzie. “Even if it is outside of our initial negotiations.”

  James opened
the door to their shared bedchamber; the large one he’d once occupied alone. He closed the door behind them and indicated the large bunch of mistletoe hanging along the doorframe above them.

  He pulled her into his arms. “I think ye owe me a kiss.”

  James would never be unaffected by his wife’s kisses. Her lips were too soft, her sweet rose scent too alluring. And those sensual sounds she hummed in the back of her throat… Good God.

  And yet, they had an important conversation to finish.

  James nestled his face along the silky column of Penelope’s throat. “Are ye wanting to stray outside of our original marital negotiations?” he asked.

  She was silent a long moment.

  He straightened and regarded her. A flush had blossomed over her cheeks and lips.

  She nodded. “On two points specifically.”

  “Two?” He scoffed playfully.

  “First,” she continued. “I’ve decided I do not like the idea of you ever taking a lover and so I wish you to strike that from the list.”

  James couldn’t help but grin at the note of contention. There was no other woman he wanted to be with other than Penelope. “Only if ye remove it from yers.”

  “Done.” She lifted her chin. “And second, yes, I would like a child with you. One who has your dark hair and lovely green eyes.”

  “Lovely?” He tried to give her his most ferocious stare.

  She laughed. “Lovely and quite masculine, I assure you.”

  He caught her hand and drew her closer to him as he considered her. It was almost too easy to imagine her round-bellied with his child and then later, holding a small babe with a fuzz of red hair atop its sweet head. His mouth lifted with a smile.

  “I’d love to see ye as a mother,” he replied in earnest. “And Gemma can occupy the children, along with their nanny, while ye’re at the hospital.”

  “Children?” She ran her hand over his chest. “Already planning more than one?”

  His body immediately responded to her touch, sending tingles of pleasure rushing through his blood. Especially to certain parts of him. “When should we start?”

  “I’ve assessed myself and have determined I am entirely healthy and ready to get with child,” she said confidently.

  He raised his brows. “Have ye now?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a cocky smile that made him go hard as a rock. He loved her confidence when she spoke of her medical knowledge, how it squared her shoulders and set that glint in her eye.

  “I can tell you with the certainty of a physician there are no lasting effects of carbon dioxide in my body,” she continued. “Nor are there any remnants of the high dose of laudanum.”

  Thoughts of that attack on her only made him pull her tighter to him, as if he could always keep her so close to ensure she was protected.

  “So, ye’re saying we should start trying for a child now?” James trailed his fingertips down her collarbone.

  Penelope breath hitched. “I imagine the time is optimal for…oh.”

  His touch had dipped inside the neckline of her dress, teasing at her nipple as it grew taut.

  “I shall have to make sure I’m incredibly thorough.” He reached around and unfastened the first two buttons of her gown.

  She whimpered hungrily in response.

  “I love ye verra, verra much, Penelope.” He plucked free several more buttons.

  And he did love her, for her intelligence, for her beauty, for the kindness of her generous heart, and for the acceptance she offered him that he’d always sought. She had made England his home.

  He finished the row of buttons and slid the white gown from her body. Except it was not a basic chemise she wore beneath her clothing. It was the lacy one.

  Good God.

  It fit her body like a sensual glove, pink where her nipples strained against the delicate lace, and a shadow of auburn downy hair visible at the apex of her thighs.

  MacKenzie’s mouth went dry.

  She smiled wickedly, the minx, and drew him toward their bed.

  How he adored his wife. But now was not a time for talking, and so he showed her with his body, with their shared pleasure, exactly how much he loved her.

  And how much he really liked that wispy bit of a chemise.

  Epilogue

  June 1826

  Oakhurst Manor

  * * *

  Penelope put her stethoscope to the little boy’s thin chest and smiled at the clear whoosh of air in and out of his lungs.

  “Can you breathe for me, Timothy?” she asked. “Big and deep, like this.” She huffed for him in exaggeration.

  He laughed and did exactly as Penelope had instructed with all the gusto of a small boy trying to be bigger than he was. No coughing followed. A wonderful sign. Penelope concentrated on the air moving easily through his chest and stood up with authority.

  “You sound like you have the healthiest set of lungs I believe I’ve ever heard.” She put her hands on her hips. “You must have been taking all of your medicine.”

  He nodded vigorously.

  “He has.” His mother ruffled the boy’s blond hair. “Can he run about with the others now? I’ve been holding him back for fear of making his breathing worse.”

  “There is no reason why he can’t. He’s quite recovered. In fact, with lungs such as his, I’m sure he’ll best them all.” Penelope winked at the little boy, who was already making his way for the door.

  “Thank you, Dr. MacKenzie,” the woman said in a rush as she ran off after her son.

  Penelope watched the pair go, mother chasing after her healthy son, and contentment blossomed in her chest.

  She was no physician. Such rights were still barred from women. But even though she’d told their tenants such countless times, they all insisted on calling her by the title, declaring she deserved it more than any physician they knew.

  What was more, she did not charge the exorbitant fees of other physicians and treated anyone who came to her for free. Medical care should not be only for those whose pockets ran deep, but for those who were in need.

  James had agreed with her logic and surprised her the first summer at Oakhurst Manor with a white building on their estate, stocked with a variety of necessary medical supplies. Her private hospital had been open since. A local midwife she’d been instructing operated it in her stead when she returned to London with James when he attended Parliament.

  He’d made his own positive influence on the people of England with the acts he’d helped pass with his votes. There was an act to keep child workers from being exploited by cotton factories and another to protect cattle to ensure proper treatment of livestock.

  Those months in the country, however, were always the happiest. Not just for her, but for James and their son, Arcas.

  Movement caught her eye outside the window. She peered closer as several figures made their way to her hospital. Not new patients, but her family. James with Gemma on his arm and Lady Bursbury beside them, with little Arcas leading the procession with great galloping leaps, his auburn hair rustling in the late afternoon light.

  She went to the door and shielded the setting sun from her eyes. “Is it already time for supper?”

  “Yes,” Arcas shouted into the hot summer air. “And we’re having trifle for dessert.”

  All at once, his giant leap into the air came down too hard and he tumbled forward. Both grandmothers exclaimed with more horror and emotion than they had ever done for their own children. As was the way when it came to grandmothers. Or so Penelope was learning.

  For her part, Penelope went to her child and lifted him into her arms, though he was far too old to do so at five.

  His chin quivered, but he bravely held his tears at bay. “My knee.”

  Penelope pushed aside the stubborn curl of hair at his forehead, just like his father’s, and kissed his sweaty brow. “Let us get you into the hospital and I’ll have a look at you.”

  “I’ll play the part of stretcher.
” James swooped to her side and lifted Arcas from her.

  She entered the building as James was settling Arcas onto the table and knelt by her son. That summer was the driest that had ever been seen in England. It made for a hard landing on a boy’s skinny leg and blood smeared over the fresh scrape.

  “Bend it for me,” Penelope said.

  He obediently bent his knee.

  “Touch yer tongue to yer nose,” James instructed.

  Arcas laughed and stretched his tongue upward.

  Penelope shook her head jovially at their antics. “Wiggle your toes.”

  Arcas wiggled his toes, but it was his father he looked up at with an expectant smile.

  James arched a brow in challenge. “Wiggle yer ears.”

  Arcas scrunched his face in concentration, but his ears did not move.

  Penelope got to her feet to fetch vinegar and plaster. “Your knee will be fine once I clean it.”

  “Aye, but yer ears might be broken,” James added solemnly.

  “James,” Gemma chastised from the doorway.

  He chuckled and wriggled Arcas’s ears for him, then went out to occupy the grandmothers so Penelope could work in peace.

  She took a bit of linen and a bottle of vinegar and sat in front of the table once more. “This may sting.”

  Her son watched her with wide green eyes and nodded with stoic resolve. “I can bear it.”

  “I know you can, my brave boy.” Penelope wet the linen with a splash of vinegar.

  “It’s interesting—” Arcas hissed as the liquid stung at his cut. “The Greeks used vinegar to clean their wounds and we do the same.”

  Penelope focused on getting all the bits of grass and dirt from the wound, lest it become inflamed. Fevers were by far her biggest enemy and she’d not have one plague her boy. “That is interesting.”

  “One would think,” he continued, “that in so many centuries of learning, we would devise a different method for cleaning a wound.”