Prue nodded. “He’s very quiet, but he watches you the same way Edward watches Charity.”
“And the way Gideon watches you, Prue. It’s lovely.” Faith said.
“You must tell Mama and Papa the news,” said Prue. “Gideon brought The Cairn here. We’ll visit it tomorrow.”
“The Cairn? Mama and Papa’s cairn?” It was a pile of loose stones the sisters had built when they were children, newly orphaned and missing their mother and father terribly. Mama and Papa were buried in the warm, sun-kissed earth of Italy. The Cairn was built with the cold stones of Grandpapa’s Northumberland property. They’d told it all their secrets, and for years it was their sole place of comfort.
Prue nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes, knowing none of us would ever want to return to Dereham, my darling husband had every stone brought here. He even found one of Grace’s baby teeth in it and brought that, too.” She stood up. “Now, come along, let us go downstairs. Tea must be ready by now, and I am ravenous.”
They were just finishing tea when a maidservant knocked on the door. “Your Grace, you asked me to tell you when Her Grace woke.”
“Ah.” Edward beamed. “Charity is awake. Come on, everyone, up you come. You will want to see her and our beautiful Aurora.”
Lady Gussie, Hope, Faith, and Grace hurried upstairs at once. Edward looked at Cassie and Dorie. “Would you like to come and see the baby, too? I understand your brother is going to marry Hope, which will make you the baby’s aunts-by-marriage.”
Cassie and Dorie looked wide-eyed at Sebastian for confirmation. He nodded, realizing he should have told them of his marriage plans earlier. It had all been such a rush. He started to explain, but they cut him off.
“Oh, we knew you were going to marry Miss Hope,” Cassie said, “but we didn’t realize that we would get other new relatives. If Hope is our sister-in-law, then would Grace be like a sister?”
“And you mean we are to be aunts? Of a real baby?” gasped Dorie in wonder.
He nodded, a little amused by their priorities.
Edward held out his hands to them. “Then come and see your new baby niece.” With no hesitation, each girl took his hand and excitedly began to climb the stairs.
Another step, Sebastian thought gratefully. His sisters were learning to trust.
Edward paused halfway up and looked back. “You, too, Reyne. We need the whole family with us.”
Sebastian nodded and followed in silence. He couldn’t talk. There was a lump in his throat. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d get new relatives either. He was part of
the whole family
.
Charity sat up in bed, a golden, glowing woman. In her arms she held a small bundle. First Hope held Baby Aurora, looking, to Sebastian’s eyes, like the most beautiful of Madonnas. Then Faith took her. Grace cuddled her next, making happy little cooing noises. Lady Augusta took Aurora in her arms with great care. Great Uncle Oswald patted her on the shoulder, peering into the bundle, grinning, and making fatuous avuncular noises. Lady Augusta handed the baby to Gideon five minutes later, saying gruffly that the dratted child had made her eyelash-black run. The whole room watched as Gideon turned instantly to mush, making goo-goo noises and claiming she’d smiled at him. The baby made no objection to any of it.
“Would you like to hold her?”
The duchess had spoken to Dorie. Cassie had hung back, but Dorie had been pressed silently, inconspicuously up against the corner of the bed, watching the bundle avidly.
Dorie blinked and nodded.
The duchess patted the bed beside her. “Come up here with me—Dorie, isn’t it?”
Dorie nodded again and scrambled up on the bed.
Charity smiled. “Grace has written lots of letters to us about you and Cassie. Welcome to the family.” She placed the baby in Dorie’s arms. “Aurora, this is your Aunt Dorie.”
Dorie looked at the baby, then looked at Sebastian. “
Aunt Dorie,
” she whispered, then bent and kissed the baby carefully.
Sebastian took one look at Dorie’s face and walked to the window. He stared blindly out. His throat was working.
He felt Hope slide into his arms and held her gratefully. The next morning, Prudence invited Sebastian, Hope, and the girls to accompany her to the gamekeeper’s cottage. “Anslow and his wife are expecting us. I expect Mrs. Anslow will have made her famous plum cake.”
“But why?” Hope asked.
Prudence grinned. “It’s a surprise.” She winked at Sebastian.
He nodded. Gideon had told him about the surprise already.
The gamekeeper’s cottage stood on the edge of a leafy coppice, looking out over rolling hills. The front garden was filled with flowers.
Mrs. Anslow answered the door and ushered them proudly into her front room. “I’ll fetch Anslow and tea,” she said.
A tall, grizzled man in leathers joined them a minute later. He was followed by Mrs. Anslow, carrying a tea tray, and behind her came . . .
“May!”
Hope exclaimed, blinking in surprise. “It is you, isn’t it?”
The small skinny urchin gave her a huge gap-toothed grin and said excitedly. “Yes, miss, it’s me. I live here now, wiv the Anslows!”
Mrs. Anslow put an arm around her and gave her a hug. “And a dear, sweet child she is.” Little May’s face shone with happiness. She ran over to the tea table and started to set out cups.
“We never did have any of our own, Anslow and me, so when m’lady asked me, well, I thought it wouldn’t do no harm. Anslow wasn’t so sure about taking in an orphan child from London . . .”
The tall man said gruffly. “Aye, but it’s all worked out. She’s a grand little lass, our May. Now, would anyone here be interested in seeing my pups?”
“Pups?” Dorie squeaked. She looked at Sebastian who grinned.
Anslow jerked his head, “In the shed, out back. Come on, May, let’s show the girls.” He led the way, May skipping along beside him, holding his hand with such pride of ownership it brought tears to Hope’s eyes. Dorie and Cassie, not to be outdone, grabbed Sebastian’s hands and followed.
Mrs Anslow said, “That’s surprised you, didn’t it, miss? M’lady fixed it up. She knew I was lonely, with no chick nor child to call my own.”
Hope stared at Prudence. “You arranged it? But how?”
Prudence grinned happily. “You wrote to me, remember, and told me about that poor little child, praying for a doll to love . . . and I thought of the Anslows, praying for a child. Then Aunt Gussie wrote that she was now on the board of the Institution. So I told her about the Anslows and she sent us May.”
“Aye,” agreed Mrs Anslow. “And we couldn’t be happier.”
Everyone was gathered downstairs, more or less in the crimson saloon. It was a warm evening, and the French windows were open. A soft, scented breeze stirred the curtains.
Cassie and Grace were on the terrace playing with their new pups. Yaps and youthful laughter floated in through the windows in gusts.
Charity had come downstairs with Baby Aurora. She and Edward sat quietly on the sofa, smiling and murmuring. Edward held the sleeping baby in his arms, the very picture of a proud, doting papa.
Dorie sat in an armchair nearby, looking equally doting. She had a small bundle cradled in her arms. Big brown eyes stared up at Dorie’s face, a fat little honey-colored snout poked out of the bundle, then lunged suddenly and licked her nose. Dorie giggled and cuddled her puppy, Honey, tighter.
Sebastian’s chest grew tight with emotion. It was going to be all right. More than all right. It was going to be . . . bloody wonderful.
Prudence and Gideon strolled on the terrace, arm in arm, talking quietly. Lady Augusta and Sir Oswald were playing cards with the twins.
Sebastian looked around the room. He had more than he ever dreamed would be possible, and the thought suddenly frightened him. What if his life slipped out of his control? It had before. Things could go wrong. People could disappear. Families could be dissolved on a whim of fate. Plans could come to naught . . . if they were not carried out immediately.
He marched over to Hope and put his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s get married soon.”
Sir Oswald looked up from his cards. “It cannot be for several months at least. One cannot rush an affair at a fashionable London church like St. George’s.”
“And Hope must buy her bride clothes,” added Lady Augusta.
Hope leaned back against Sebastian, kissed the hand that gripped her shoulder, and gave him a reassuring smile. “When are you christening Aurora?” she asked Charity.
Edward answered, “In three weeks. I arranged it this morning.”
Hope said to Sebastian, “Then let us be married the following day. Friends and family members who come for the christening can stay on for the wedding, and we won’t have to worry about booking any silly old fashionable churches, for Gideon has a charming little church right here on the estate—St. Giles’s. And besides,” she added softly, with a glance at Prudence, “Mama and Papa’s Cairn is right next to the church. It’s like they will be with us.”
Sebastian bent and kissed her. She’d told him about The Cairn. “Perfect.”
Great Uncle Oswald watched the sudden hum of activity as wedding plans were instantly hatched and exclaimed in disgust, “Will no member of this dratted family
ever
get married in St. George’s, Hanover Square?”
Into the silence that followed, Lady Augusta drawled, “Well, Oswald . . . I’ll do it, if you want.”
Another silence fell, more intense. Expectant.
“You mean—Gussie! After all these years, you’re acceptin’ me at last? You really will marry me?”
She nodded, looking suddenly girlish. “Yes, Oswald, I’ll marry you.”
He leaped up, grabbed her hands, kissed them both, then kissed her on the mouth. He said to the room in general, in a dazed tone, “I must have asked her a hundred times!” He swung back and demanded, “In St. George’s, Hanover Square?”
She raised an incredulous brow, as if the question were entirely redundant. “Naturally! I wouldn’t dream of having it anywhere else. If I’m going to be married for the third time, I want a huge, splashy wedding with all the works! I am
not
the retiring type.”
Great Uncle Oswald said fervently, “No, you’re not. Thank God!”
Epilogue
If music be the food of love, play on.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
FROM CARRADICE ABBEY, ST. GILES’S CHURCH WAS A SHORT BUT charming walk along a narrow, winding pathway flanked by tall trees. A sixteenth-century church, the floor was of large stone flags worn smooth by many generations. It was built of local stone, partially lined inside with oak paneling, and plastered around the chancel. Over the years it had been endowed with several lovely stained glass windows, which on this glorious June day filled the church with a mass of color. Set into the walls were engraved plaques and memorials, and there were several brasses depicting medieval knights and ladies.
Inside, the church was filled with flowers: pink and white clematis, wild purple orchids, lilies, tall canes of creamy, fragrant philadelphus, spikes of lavender, and masses of roses. Roses in every shade and size. Tightly furled buds and lush, fully opened blooms. Their scent filled the church.
The same flowers covered a small stone cairn outside the church. The Merridew girls had laid them there the day before, taking the newest member of the family with them: the newly christened Aurora, carried by her godmother, Dorie.
The oak pews were packed with people, quietly talking. The organ played softly. Late arrivals were still quietly trailing in.
In the front pew sat Prudence and Gideon, Edward and Charity. Giles’s mother sat on the other side. Behind her sat Lady Gosforth and a group of her friends. The rest was a host of people Sebastian didn’t know.
Prudence nudged her husband. Sebastian and Giles had spent the last ten minutes pacing, their eyes darting every few seconds to the door. It was hard to tell which man was more nervous—Giles or Sebastian. Now they’d stopped pacing and, in low voices, were apparently arguing. “I wonder what they’re saying?” she whispered.
“But she has no bosoms!” Sebastian said. “You can’t marry a woman with no bosoms!”
“What? Oh,” Giles groaned, remembering the old conversation. “Lady Elinore has bosoms, all right . . . tiny, exquisite bosoms . . . to which I am utterly, completely addicted. I am beside myself with lust, Bastion. Me!”
Sebastian’s lips twitched at his tone of despair.
Giles continued, “Do you know, I even long—nay, I
yearn
for her to return to wearing her seventeen acres of gray cloth!”
“What difference would that make?”
Giles sighed again. “None. I lusted after her long before she took to going about half-naked and in colors! But at least when she was smothered in gray draperies, she was my own special secret. Now . . .”
“You’re jealous of other men looking at her?” Sebastian was incredulous. “You?”
“Pathetic, isn’t it? I have no willpower, no control, not even any dignity when it comes to that woman. I am besotted—a soppy, sentimental heap! How did I come to this sorry state?
Sebastian smiled.“I believe it’s called falling in love.”
“I thought love was a game,” Giles said heavily.
“And I thought it a lie told to children, but we were both wrong, weren’t we?”
“Yes.” Giles pulled out a fob watch and glared at it. “I think my watch has stopped.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“Are they late?”
“No, or only a minute. We got here early, remember.” They stared at the oak doors of the church, but there was no movement, no sign of a bride. After a moment Sebastian said, “So Lady Elinore has permanently abandoned her gray draperies?”
“Mmm. She has discovered they don’t work, you see.” There was a trace of smugness in his tone.
“I see . . . Are you sure about this decision? She is older than you by ten years at least.” Sebastian was determined Giles would eat every last word.