April Kihlstrom (19 page)

In answer, she gathered her skirts in one hand, turned and said, over her shoulder, “Race you!”

She did. And they both, he could not help feeling, won.

Epilogue

Beatrix watched as her children tumbled around on the ground at her feet. She could not have bent over to stop them even if she wanted. Instead she called to her husband to help. “Edmund, your sons are at it again!”

He came over, their daughter on his shoulders. “So is your daughter,” he said as he set her down on the ground and grabbed her two brothers to separate them. “I just found her climbing that tree.”

Beatrix shook her head. “I suppose there’s no hope this one will be any tamer?” she asked as she patted her thoroughly rounded stomach.

Edmund laughed. “Somehow I think not.”

“I was afraid of that,” Beatrix said, with a mock sigh. “I suppose we shall have to double the pay of their nanny again. Either that or hire another nursery maid or two to help her.”

“I can stand the expense. Besides, confess—you would have been disappointed if our children were prim and proper creatures, wouldn’t you?”

Beatrix smiled up at her husband. “I suppose I would,” she conceded.

“No chance of that with us as parents,” he teased. “But if you’re worried about the expense, we could bring one of your youngest brothers here to help out. I would suggest one of your sisters, but they are busy with households of their own now. Shall I send for John and James?”

Beatrix shuddered at the thought. Visibly shuddered. “Good heavens, no! They would be much more likely to teach them new tricks! No, we must depend on nannies and nursery maids and hope our children do not wear them all to death.”

Suddenly she sucked in a deep breath. “Edmund,” she said carefully.

“Yes, my love?”

“I think you’d best go get the nanny and tell her that she is needed. Now. And then you’d best help me upstairs. I do believe the newest member of our family is about to make his or her appearance!”

Edmund—bless his heart—did exactly as requested, except that he merely signaled to the nanny, who he knew was watching from an upstairs window. The moment she appeared, he lifted his wife as if she weighed no more than a feather and carried her up to the room where this very child had been conceived.

Beatrix thought about scolding him for his high-handedness, then decided that this was one of those times where it was perhaps not only justified, but rather welcome. Besides, she had more important matters to deal with as the next band of pain struck. This was, she decided, one of those times when it was just as well to be Edmund’s dutiful wife.

Keep reading for a special excerpt from another Regency Romance

by April Kihlstrom

THE AMBITIOUS BARONET

Available now from InterMix

The three Barlow sisters made a pretty picture as they sat in the sunny parlor at the front of their house. The eldest, Alexandra, was engaged in mending sheets and shirts and socks and such. Theresa, second eldest, was writing a long letter to their father. And the youngest, Elizabeth, was reading. All very typical for this household. Placed as they were so far from any town, there was not a great deal to do, and they had long since learned the art of entertaining themselves and one another.

Their greatest outside excitement came from the occasional visit from the vicar or a tenant—or the even more occasional visit from their father, when he could tear himself away from the delights of London. That, however, had come to be their greatest dread. So now, when the knocking sounded at the front door below them, they looked at one another with alarm.

‘‘The children are napping,’’ Tessa said.

‘‘And Betsy will know to keep them quiet,’’ Alex added. ‘‘I wonder how long Papa means to stay this time.’’

‘‘Far too long if he’s gambled away this quarter’s rents again,’’ Lisbeth asserted bitterly.

‘‘More likely he is simply running from some woman’s husband,’’ Tessa countered. ‘‘One must hope that this time the fellow doesn’t follow him here! I shall never forget the sight of Father crouched on the stair telling us to deny to the man that he was here.’’

‘‘Don’t even jest about such things!’’ Alex scolded.

Even as her sisters muttered that jesting was the furthest thing from their minds, the parlor door opened and Potter announced that Mr. James was here.

A small man with pinched features entered the room. He stared at the sisters with what could only be called a disapproving air, and his eyes took in the shabby state of the furnishings.

His inspection roused Alexandra’s ire. Her chin came up in unconscious defiance. ‘‘May we help you, sir?’’ she asked, a decided chill in her voice. ‘‘Unfortunately my father is not much at home these days. And if you are a creditor, you had best apply to him in London for payment. We have no funds to do so.’’

He blinked at her. ‘‘Do you not know who I am?’’ he asked, patently taken aback.

‘‘Ought we to know you?’’ Alex countered, though her tone softened just a trifle.

A thin smile crossed his lips, then quickly vanished. ‘‘No, how should you?’’ he admitted. ‘‘I merely thought that perhaps your father might, upon some occasion, have mentioned the name of his solicitor.’’

‘‘His solicitor!’’

The man turned to bow toward Tessa, who was the one who had echoed his words. ‘‘Yes, your father’s solicitor,’’ he repeated. ‘‘I presume I have the honor of addressing Miss Barlow and her two sisters.’’

‘‘You do,’’ Alex agreed.

He turned back to her, opened his mouth, and hesitated. ‘‘May I sit down?’’ he asked.

Alex flushed. ‘‘Yes. Yes, of course, sir. My apologies for keeping you standing!’’

‘‘Oh, I quite understand, if you thought I was a creditor!’’

The stranger’s eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Alex found herself feeling much more kindly toward him. ‘‘Would you care for tea? Or some other refreshment?’’ she asked. ‘‘I must presume you have come a long way, perhaps even from London if you are my father’s solicitor.’’

He hesitated. ‘‘Perhaps later,’’ he said. ‘‘For now, well, this is not a pleasant business, and I should dislike to put it off any longer.’’

‘‘Of course.’’

Still he hesitated. Still he fiddled with his spectacles. But finally he looked at each of the sisters in turn and then looked at the eldest.

‘‘There is no easy way to say this. Your father is dead.’’

He waited for their cries of surprise and was surprised himself when there were none. It was the youngest, Lisbeth, who answered his unspoken question.

‘‘I suppose some angry husband shot Father in a duel?’’

‘‘No, no, nothing of the sort!’’ he hastened to assure her. And then he found himself at a loss for words again. But the sisters were waiting, so after a moment he forced himself to go on. ‘‘Your father shot himself.’’

That did evoke cries of surprise. It was the middle sister, Tessa, who spoke this time. ‘‘I don’t believe it,’’ she said. ‘‘Papa had far too good an opinion of himself to take his own life. Unless, of course, you mean it was some sort of accident?’’

‘‘It was no accident,’’ Mr. James said grimly. ‘‘Lord Henley shot himself because he faced ruin. Indeed, he was ruined. Lost every last penny in a card game, including this house, this estate. He had nothing left and decided to take the coward’s way out. Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but he left a letter for me, asking me to inform you three of that fact.’’

The three sisters sat silent, stunned by the news. Finally, it was Alex who said, ‘‘I see. So we are penniless and without a home. Who inherits—? Never mind. It does not matter who inherits the title. It cannot affect us. The more important question, perhaps, is who won the estate and how soon must we leave?’’

Mr. James sighed. ‘‘As to that, I believe the title dies with your father. There are, so far as I know, no male heirs to inherit. A Sir Robert Stamford won this estate. Before I left London, I did attempt to discover how soon he would wish to take possession, and he said he had not yet decided. Nor did he seem to know what his plans for this estate might be. I have brought the address of his London town house if you should wish to write to him yourself. Unless, of course, you anticipated such a circumstance and already know where you will go and what you will do?’’

Alex rose to her feet and began to pace about the room. ‘‘Anticipated such a circumstance? How could we? Though I will allow, in hindsight, that we ought to have done so. Do we know where we will go? No, sir. For as you have so aptly perceived, there is no male left to inherit and no female relatives who would welcome us, either. We shall have to find some course of employment, I suppose. And that will take time. Perhaps you can advise us on how to go about finding work as governesses or companions or housekeepers, sir?’’

Mr. James looked from one sister to another to the third and silently cursed the late Lord Henley. How could he have been so irresponsible when he had three daughters at home? And how could he tell them that he had grave doubts of any mother hiring such lovely young women in the first place?

Perhaps it was these thoughts that caused Mr. James to concoct his scheme. Or perhaps it was the fatigue of the journey. But in the end he opened his mouth to say one thing and ended up saying instead, ‘‘Let us not be hasty. Perhaps there is an alternative. Housekeeper, you say, Miss Barlow? Perhaps you could write to Sir Robert and offer to stay on as housekeeper here. At least until he chooses to come and take up residence and install a housekeeper more to his liking.’’

‘‘And how much time will that gain us?’’ Alex asked, not troubling to hide the bitterness in her voice.

‘‘Perhaps more than you think,’’ Mr. James answered slowly. ‘‘Sir Robert has another estate. One close to London that he likes very much. I understand that he has more than once been heard to say he would never bury himself in the countryside when there is so much amusement to be had in London. He is, you see, something of a rake.’’

‘‘But then won’t he wish to sell this place?’’ Tessa asked with pardonable anxiety.

Mr. James coughed. ‘‘Perhaps. But it would take some time to find a buyer. And meanwhile I’ve no doubt he would be grateful for someone to hold house for him here and keep it maintained until he does find such a buyer. And as I said, that could take some time, with the state of disrepair here and such.’’

Mr. James eyed Miss Barlow in a meaningful way, and after a startled moment, she nodded her understanding. ‘‘Of course,’’ she said slowly. ‘‘And what a pity it is the chimneys smoke and the dust lies so thick everywhere and such. But is it fair to play such a trick on this Sir Robert Stamford? Perhaps he needs the funds the sale of this estate would bring?’’

‘‘Sir Robert Stamford,’’ Mr. James said, biting off each word, ‘‘has more than sufficient funds for his needs, I assure you. That is why I find it particularly reprehensible that he could win this estate from your father when he very well must have known how deep in his cups your father was. He is a reckless young man with no regard for anyone save himself, and most of London would be happy to see him receive the setdown he deserves!’’

Alex paced across the room and back again once more before she answered. Guilt warred with need in her breast. The look of fear in her sisters’ eyes, however, was what, in the end, decided her.

‘‘Very well,’’ she said. ‘‘I shall write to Sir Robert. I daresay he will be very glad to have someone look after this place in his absence.’’

***

It was less than a week later that Sir Robert Stamford stared at the letter in his hand. What the devil was the meaning of this? he wondered. Lord Henley’s daughter wished to stay on as housekeeper on the estate? Stamford vaguely recalled that Henley’s solicitor had mentioned something about a daughter, or perhaps more than one. But only to ask how soon he would expect them to leave the estate. This was something altogether different!

For a moment fury possessed the young man accounted one of the ton’s most heartless as well as newest members. But it was a fury directed at the late Lord Henley, not at the poor girl who had written this letter. Why the devil had the old fool wagered his entire estate, without even setting aside a small portion for his daughter, and then gone home and put a bullet through his head? Stamford had tried to deal the cards so Henley would win, but it had been impossible. They had taken turns, and the cards had fallen so badly for Henley that Sir Robert had not been able to lose, not even on purpose. And this was the appalling result.

Stamford despised the man, not least for the way he had upset all their plans. But he felt only pity for Henley’s daughter. He had a very good notion of just how poor her prospects must be. He wondered if there might be some way to turn that to his advantage. Particularly as he still had to find out about those missing children. Could Henley have been involved? Could it have been one more scheme to try to raise the blunt he needed for the life he desired?

Sir Robert would still need to visit Henley’s estate to find out. He could pretend he meant to sell the estate and was making an inspection of the place. But not just yet. He would give her a little more time to mourn first.

He sat down at his writing desk and composed a short but civil letter.

I should indeed be grateful if you would stay on as housekeeper for a time. I think it unlikely that I shall visit there any time soon and will be grateful to know the house is being looked after properly.

Respectfully, Sir Robert Stamford

Sir Robert sealed the letter and grimaced. A sour-faced spinster, no doubt, with an abominable temperament, and entirely lacking in looks. How could it be otherwise, with a father like Lord Henley? The man was appallingly ill-favored in his countenance, with a temper to match. How different could the daughter be? Still, even such a creature did not deserve to be cast entirely out of the only home she had likely ever known. And when he came to visit, he would find her knowledge of the neighboring area invaluable.

With that last thought, Stamford set out the letter for a footman to post and dismissed the poor woman from his mind. Particularly as, just at that moment, his dearest friend was shown into the parlor.

‘‘Well, Stamford? Ready for an evening at Almack’s?’’ Lord Ransley demanded.

Robert glared at him. ‘‘I do not see,’’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘‘why you must drag me there!’’

But Lord Ransley only laughed. ‘‘You know very well that Lady Ransley insists I go, and if I must go, so shall you. And you know it is her dearest wish to see you wed. Especially since you are in Prinny’s black books at the moment. I told you it was a mistake to dangle after his mistress!’’

‘‘I was not dangling after his mistress!’’ Stamford all but shouted. ‘‘I was only being polite to the poor creature.’’

‘‘Yes, well, polite enough so that all she could talk of that evening, apparently, was the delightful Sir Robert Stamford. Prinny was not amused, and if you want to keep your title and your fortune and perhaps even your head, my lady and I had better do our best to see you wed. Or at least looking to be wed. I have it on the best authority that only weekly visits to Almack’s and your paying court to the young ladies of the ton can possibly keep you from immediate danger of Prinny’s wrath!’’

Stamford pretended to grumble, but he called for his cloak and followed Lord Ransley out to the waiting carriage where Lady Ransley greeted him with every expression of delight. Stamford smiled in return. And, despite his distaste for the evening ahead, Stamford’s smile was genuine.

He liked Lady Ransley. She was one of the few women with any sense. She was not afraid of him, nor did she remind him with veiled barbs of his origins. Besides, if the plan he and Thornsby had devised were to work, he must be seen to be trying to avoid Prinny’s wrath. That way, when Prinny, at their behest, banished him entirely from London, no one would think to question that Stamford would go.

***

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