The Charity of a Viscount

by Sande, Linda Rae

  Marcus lifted a shoulder, as if to shrug. “If it’s what you want, I certainly have no objections.”

  Charity blinked. “You don’t?”

  He shook his head. “I want you to be happy,” he replied. “I will want to have a groom stay close while you’re at the office, of course. See you home safely.”

  Dipping her head, Charity took a breath. “I’m going to fall in love with you, aren’t I?”

  Mischief appeared in Marcus’s eyes. “Aren’t you already?” he countered with a grin. “If not, I’d like to invite you to join me for the day. Maybe in the same bedchamber we were in yesterday, so that I might convince you.”

  A frisson shot through Charity, and she was sorely tempted to accept the offer. “Perhaps... later,” she replied.

  “You’re welcome to move in now,” Marcus said, his face brightening with the thought she would spend some time with him on this day. “Stay the night, if you’d like,” he added, even though he knew she wouldn’t do such a thing.

  Charity’s eyes widened before she let out a giggle. “Perhaps I’ll have a few things brought over,” she replied.

  Marcus was about to say something else—his gaze had gone to the note she held—but Miss Baker appeared at the door with a tea tray, and he stood up. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he murmured, just then realizing he didn’t know why Charity was there. Or why Miss Baker was delivering tea. He had thought their business was concluded now that the housemaid was marrying.

  “I hope that you don’t mind, but I’m taking one of your housemaids away from her duties for a time.”

  He gave a private smile. “She’ll be one of your housemaids soon enough, so what does it matter?” he said in a hoarse whisper. His gaze fell on the necklace she wore, one with purple stones, and he remembered the necklace he had given his wife when Analise was born. “I’ll be upstairs. I am reminded of something I need to give to my daughter,” he murmured, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  Charity watched her future husband leave the room as Mary dipped a curtsy and then stepped in. “Do take a seat, Miss Baker,” she said. She waited until Mary had placed the tea tray on the low table and settled herself into the chair across from her. “Hullo, Mrs. Seward.”

  “First, I wish to apologize,” Charity stated.

  “But why?” Mary asked. She was in the middle of pouring a cup of tea and stopped.

  Charity held up the letter. “I heard from your brother, Mr. Weatherby, this morning.”

  Visibly relaxing, Mary allowed a wan grin. “Oh, that,” she said. “You couldn’t have known we were related,” she added with a shake of her head.

  “True, and at least it seems your brother has a potential wife in Miss Parker.”

  “Oh, she’s over the moon about it,” Mary agreed, a grin splitting her face. “But then, so am I.” She offered the tea to the matchmaker.

  Taking the cup and saucer, Charity furrowed a brow. “You’re happy for your brother, no doubt, and gaining a sister, but you must feel as if you’ve been... cheated.”

  Mary took a sip of tea and regarded the matchmaker for a moment. “Not at all. One of the footmen here—Rodney—”

  “The one with the red hair?”

  “Him, yes. He was so jealous when he discovered I was going to meet with Mr. Weatherby that he proposed marriage.”

  Charity blinked. “Just... just like that?”

  Mary nodded, helping herself to a biscuit. “I accepted his offer yesterday, ’specially when he said he would carry my coal buckets for me.”

  At first thinking to say ‘best wishes’ to the housemaid, Charity allowed a frown. “But not just because he’s going to carry the coal buckets for you?” she half-asked, remembering what Mary had said she did in exchange for the services of the tall footman.

  Mary twinkled. “No. We’re learning how to kiss,” she whispered.

  Charity was sure she blushed, even though she was expecting the housemaid to say something completely inappropriate. “We shall have to see to it you’re given larger quarters,” she commented. “Since I must meet the housekeeper on other matters, I can bring it up with her.”

  Her eyes widening in question, Mary said, “That’s very kind of you, my lady.”

  “Yes, well, it means the room you move out of will be available for my lady’s maid, Thompkins.”

  Charity had thought to let Marcus inform his household he would be taking a wife, but if the staff heard the news from a fellow servant, it would save him from having to make the announcement. “I agreed to marry Lord Lancaster yesterday.” She watched Mary carefully, wondering how the housemaid would react to the news.

  “Then best wishes are in order,” Mary replied, although the joy she had exhibited only moments earlier seemed to have disappeared.

  “Thank you.” Noting the change in the housemaid’s demeanor, Charity asked, “What is it?”

  Mary set down her cup and saucer. “I suppose you’ll be letting me go then, given what you know about me an’ all.” She struggled to breathe, as if tears were about to fall.

  “On the contrary,” Charity replied, leaning forward to add, “I rather appreciate already having met one of my maids.”

  “Even knowing what you do about me?” Mary challenged.

  Charity knew to what she referred, but said, “That you’ve a mind of your own, and you know what you want? What you like?”

  Mary’s eyes darted to one side. “I suppose I do,” she hedged. “What about my reputation? For... for being willing?”

  Charity sighed. “Since you’re about to be married, I should hope you willingness will only extend to your husband.”

  “I told him I would only let him tup me,” Mary agreed.

  Hoping her face wasn’t as pink as she thought it might be, Charity gave a slight shrug. “Then I shouldn’t think your willingness will a problem for your position.”

  “It won’t, ma’am,” Mary assured her. She took in a stuttering breath. “Is there anything else, ma’am?”

  Charity shook her head. “Best wishes to you, Miss Baker.” She watched as the housemaid stood, dipped a curtsy, and hurried from the salon. About to stand up to go, Charity decided instead to enjoy another cup of tea and a biscuit.

  And she might have finished both, except a certain viscount had other ideas just then.

  Chapter 43

  Waiting for an Arrival or Two

  Stanton House, nine months later

  “I cannot believe I allowed this to happen,” Marcus said as he paced in his study.

  Luke passed him, pacing the other direction. “Allowed?” he repeated. “This isn’t something you could have allowed or disallowed, or unallowed, or whatever the word is,” he argued. “This... just happens. It’s supposed to happen.” He reached the end of the study, turned on his heel, and headed the other direction at the same moment his father-in-law did the same at the other end of the room.

  “Besides, you made a promise to her.”

  “Did you make one to my daughter?”

  “Of course. Or she made one to me.”

  “I should never have let you marry her.”

  “I would have just taken her to Scotland,” Luke countered.

  “Gentlemen, your arguments are fruitless,” George Bennett-Jones said from where he sat in one of the leather chairs, one ankle resting on the other knee. Unlike the two viscounts pacing in front of him, he was completely relaxed, as was Teddy Streater, who sat on the nearby divan. “They’ll come when they’re good and ready. Teddy’s did, finally,” he commented, remembering how panicked Theodore Streater had been that afternoon a few months ago when Daisy had given birth to a boy. George feared his best friend would suffer a coronary before Elizabeth appeared carrying the swaddled babe. At least he hadn’t hurt himself when he fainted upon seeing the newborn for the first time. The boy wasn’t that ugly. A bit wrinkled looking, but his face had smoothed out and was now usually home to a rather pleasant expression, especially when someone was
giving him attention.

  As Teddy was doing at the moment.

  “Oh, I suppose you know all about this?” Luke replied, his manner suggesting he was about to punch something.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” George replied, straightening in the chair. “I have three of them now, and I played midwife for the first.”

  This bit of news had Marcus and Luke halting their steps so they stood directly in front of George. “Midwife?” Marcus repeated as he turned to regard the younger viscount.

  “Indeed. David was quite insistent he wanted out, and Elizabeth was helpless to stop him,” George replied. “So, I did what I had to.” He allowed a wan grin. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he whispered. “Although it was a messy business.”

  “You must have been panicked,” Luke said, his own state of unease apparent in how beads of perspiration dripped from his temples.

  “I couldn’t afford to be, actually,” George said with a shrug, remembering how he had to remain calm—at least on the outside—for Elizabeth’s sake. “That’s not to say I wasn’t feeling exactly as you two are this very moment when the last two were born,” he added, daring a glance in the adjacent chair. His newest son was sound asleep. “You especially,” he added with a nod to Marcus. “A child and a grandchild on the same day? I can’t imagine it happens very often.” He pointed to the carpet. “By the way, my study’s carpet looks much the same.”

  The other two viscounts glanced down at their feet, immediately understanding George’s comment. There was a well-worn path in the Aubusson carpeting.

  A knock at the open door had all four of them turning their attention to Elizabeth, Viscountess Bostwick. She stood holding a swaddled baby in one arm, a huge grin on her face. She turned her attention to the baby. “Miss Batey, may I have the honor of introducing you to your father?” she asked. Then she offered the bundle to Marcus, who stood with his mouth hanging open. “You do remember how to do this?” she asked when she noted how he hesitated.

  “Miss Batey?” he repeated. A huge grin appeared, and he stepped forward to take the babe. “How is she? Charity, I mean?” The other two viscounts dared a glance at the sleeping baby, not surprised Marcus seemed to know exactly how to hold it. He had three other children, after all.

  Elizabeth gave a nod. “She’s sleeping at the moment, but I’m sure she’ll be awake soon, if you’d like to go up.”

  Marcus nodded to the other men and hurried out of the study, about to take the stairs two at time in his haste to get to his wife.

  “What about Analise?” Luke asked, worry etched in his face. He appeared at least ten years older than he usually did. A sleepless night contributed to his weariness.

  “When I left her...” Elizabeth paused and angled her head as if she were listening. A faint baby’s cry reached her ears. “I’ll know in a moment.” She hurried back up the stairs as Luke moved to stand at the bottom of the staircase.

  George and Teddy followed him out of the study and stood next to him. “You’ve been massaging your wife’s feet?” George asked in a whisper.

  “Every night,” Luke replied with a nod.

  “And doing the other things we discussed?”

  Luke gave him a quelling glance. “That would be none of your business,” he replied before he finally allowed a wan grin. “Whenever I had a chance,” he whispered. “Or she asked me to.”

  George gave his fellow viscount a knowing grin. “Ah, the demands of impending fatherhood,” he said on a sigh. A giggle came from the study, and he went back in to retrieve his spare heir. “Ah, you’ve discovered your toes,” he said before lifting the four-month-old into his arms “And you’ve gained another stone. How do you manage that?”

  Luke gave him a glance from where he stood rooted at the base of the stairs. “He looks the same to me,” he commented. His brows furrowed and he turned his gaze onto George. “I am nervous.”

  “As you should be.”

  “Frightened, actually,” he whispered.

  “No need to be,” Teddy chimed in.

  “What if she...?”

  “She’ll be fine,” George said in a quiet voice, hefting his son onto his shoulder, one hand beneath the babe’s bottom.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  George dipped his head and considered how to respond. He didn’t really know if Analise would survive the childbed, but he didn’t want the younger viscount panicked any more than he was already. “Because I have faith in the midwife and in my wife,” George replied, his face breaking into a huge smile when Elizabeth appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “A bit anxious, are you?” she chided.

  Elizabeth didn’t have a chance to take a step down, for Luke bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time. “Is she all right?” he asked, ignoring the bundle Elizabeth held.

  “She’s tired, but she’s awake,” she replied, about to offer him the babe she held. Elizabeth furrowed a brow as she watched the young viscount hurry off toward his wife’s bedchamber.

  “First time father,” George said as he climbed the steps. “I know exactly how he feels, poor man. More concerned for his viscountess than for his heir. Or his daughter,” he commented, lifting a brow in question.

  “An heir,” Elizabeth said, holding the babe out so he and Teddy could take a look. Her gaze went to her own son, who showed a toothless grin and giggled when he caught sight of her. “And you’re just flirting because it’s nearly your dinnertime,” she scolded.

  “I would do the same if my sustenance came from your breast,” George whispered, leaning over to kiss his wife.

  “And here I thought it did,” she teased.

  He arched a brow and said, “Touché,” before daring a glance in the direction Luke had taken. “How long before Wessex realizes he was supposed to take the babe from you?” George asked.

  “Oh, any moment, I should think,” she replied, following his line of sight. “I suppose you four enjoyed some brandy whilst you waited?” she half-asked.

  Teddy frowned. “Not a drop,” he said with a shake of his head. “Lancaster didn’t offer, and I was afraid they would be too foxed if I suggested opening the brandy.” He gave his son a kiss on the forehead, noting how the boy seemed to hang on his every word. “A couple of nervous viscounts, those two.”

  Elizabeth grinned, and then allowed a titter when Luke appeared from his wife’s bedchamber and hurried towards her.

  “I forgot something,” he said, standing before her with an expression of uncertainty.

  “Someone, don’t you mean?” Elizabeth chided. “What will you name him?” She held out the swaddled babe and helped position it in his arms, although he already seemed to know what to do. She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve done this before,” she murmured with appreciation.

  “Younger nieces and nephews,” he acknowledged. He stared at the babe he held, all bald and wrinkly, and then he hefted the bundle, as if he were determining the babe’s weight. “He’s quite solid,” he said before he finally allowed a grin of relief. “I was thinking of naming him Mark, but now I’m wondering if I should consider Abraham,” he murmured.

  George frowned and shook his head. “Mark,” George said firmly. “For your grandfather and brother, and for her father. It’s perfect.”

  Luke gave a nod, then a bow. “I must take my leave of you. Thank you all for your help.” He seemed uncertain of what else to say and disappeared into his wife’s bedchamber.

  “Well, I think that’s our cue to take our leave,” George said before kissing his son’s forehead again.

  Elizabeth gave him a nod. “I’d like to look in on Charity just one more time,” she said, as if she’d just then remembered something. “Let her know about one of her clients.”

  “Oh? Which one?”

  “Mr. Weatherby. He’s valet to Wessex, in fact,” she said, which explained the reason she was reminded to mention something to Charity. “He married one of the lady’s maids in Lancaster’s house
hold last year,” she explained.

  “And?” he prompted.

  “My lady’s maid said that a footman from this house told her that Charity’s lady’s maid said that a housemaid from Wessex’s house told her that Mr. Weatherby’s wife, who used to work as a lady’s maid in Stanton House, gave birth to a baby boy last week.”

  George blinked and glanced around. “We’re in Stanton House, my love,” he said.

  A brilliant smile appeared on Elizabeth’s face before she sobered. “Oh, that’s capital. Then Charity must already know of her success,” she murmured.

  “I would think so,” Teddy agreed, although from his expression, it seemed he was still trying to sort all the relationships. “Wouldn’t that be Lady Wessex’s lady’s maid?”

  Elizabeth allowed a giggle, which had both baby boys reacting in delight.

  “Come. Let’s take our boys home,” George said as he offered his arm. “After spending so much time with these nervous viscounts, I need a drink.”

  “Me as well,” Teddy said.

  “As do I,” Elizabeth agreed. She glanced at her son, still in her husband’s arms. “As will he in a moment or two.” She placed a hand on his arm and they descended the steps, happy to be taking their leave of Stanton House.

  “I cannot believe you forgot our son,” Analise chided her husband, when Luke returned to her childhood bedchamber carrying their first baby.

  “I was worried about you,” he replied as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Are you going to recover?”

  Analise nodded. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “A good night’s sleep, and I’ll be ready for the next ball.” The babe began to fuss, and she rolled her eyes. “In a few months,” she added as she took the bundle from Luke and placed the babe at her breast. “I suppose you’ll want to be going to your club this evening?” she half-asked, her voice light despite her comment.

  “I will not,” Luke replied, watching in wonder as his son latched onto his wife’s breast and took his first meal. “I really don’t care how much money I made from the betting books on him,” he added.