Virginia shook her head. “Not yet, darling. We must make a new home for ourselves, and—and repair our family a little.” How could she explain it to them? She had thought it would be an easy matter, but found herself struggling for the right words. “Part of keeping you safe, of protecting our family, means I have had to make a very big choice. But I believe it is a good choice and it will make us all happy.” She prayed it so, anyway.
“What choice, Mama?” Edward asked, sitting up as well, matching his brother’s worried expression.
“Do you remember Lord Calvert?” she asked.
“He helped us with the horse,” Phillip answered. “I liked him.”
“Yes. I did too. He was kind to you both.” Virginia met Phillip’s eyes, smiling into them. “He has asked me if he might continue to help our family, if he could give us a safe home. You see, dears, he has asked if we would come and be a part of his family. He does not have a wife, or children.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed and he looked from her to Phillip, uncertain of how to react to this news. Phillip’s eyes widened and his hands curled into fists in his lap.
“Would he be our new father?” The tilt of his chin warned her how he was prepared to respond should she say yes.
Virginia shook her head. “No, Phillip. No one can take the place of your father, in my heart or yours. But Lord Calvert is a good man, and I believe he will do all he can to help you become the man your father wished you to be.”
“He won’t be Papa?” Edward asked. “But we’ll be a family?”
“Yes.” Had she muddled the whole thing? Explained it too poorly? Virginia looked from one boy to the other, her heart aching for them. It could never be easy, a change like this, but how else could she have told them?
Phillip met her eyes and he searched them, for what, she did not know, but she put on the most comforting smile she could. He folded his arms and lowered his chin.
“Would Papa like him?” Phillip asked.
The question surprised her, but Virginia could answer truthfully. “Lord Calvert has a kind heart and wishes to do the right thing. Yes. I think your father would’ve liked that, and would like Lord Calvert, too.”
Charles believed true gentility was not something passed through blood but shown in action and held up by honor. He was a man who did good deeds, who helped others. Virginia thought Lord Calvert’s actions in that regard would earn her late husband’s respect, if nothing else.
“To join his family to ours,” she went on when the boys remained silent, “I will need to marry Lord Calvert. I will be his wife. But I want you both to know, to be certain, that all will be well. I still love your father and I love both of you. Nothing will change that.”
“I love you too, Mama,” Edward responded at once, his large brown eyes more sleepy than understanding. At four and a half years old, he would accept the change best.
Phillip remained quiet a moment longer. “I don’t have to call him Papa?”
“No.” Her heart sunk a little. While she would not require such a thing from her children, it did not bode well that this was his first concern. “But you are to treat him with respect and kindness, as he is doing a wonderful thing for us.”
Someday, when they were older, she would explain the whole of it. But she did not wish to scare them in regard to their uncle or give them greater cause for concern. They were too young to understand, to know of the difficulties and cruelties of the adult world.
Nodding, Phillip slowly slid back down under the covers. “We won’t go back to the Hall?”
“Not yet.”
“But we will go live with the earl, instead of with Cousin Christine?”
She nodded. “We will.”
Phillip closed his eyes. “Good night, Mother.”
Had she been dismissed by her six-year-old son? Half-amused, half-concerned, Virginia looked to Edward to see his eyes already closed. The younger boy was breathing deeply, his worries of the day lost to sleep.
“Good night, Phillip.” She kissed his cheek and tucked his blankets in around him, then did the same for Edward.
She left the room quietly, leaving the lamp for Nurse Smythe, and stepped into the darkened hallway. She rubbed at her eyes with one hand, again questioning her ability to assist the boys through this new change.
I must be brave and show them nothing but confidence in this decision.
That thought made her straighten her shoulders and lift her chin.
It was up to her to keep her sons safe and happy, to give them their best chance at life. While her decision had been made with rapidity, it did not feel like a poor one.
“I hope you approve, Charles,” she whispered to the night. No answer came, no sign was given, and she had only the ache in her heart for company.
Chapter Seven
Obtaining a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury was no easy task, yet it was one that Lucas had full confidence in achieving. He had known Charles Manners-Sutton, the current archbishop, for several years. His father had been on friendly terms with the man before he ascended to the reverential position.
Returning to London to see the archbishop took time, but Lucas had been able to call on him at his home. After a closely conducted interview, during which he learned that the archbishop had been an admirer of the late Baron of Heatherton, Lucas was granted the license.
He kept it on his person as he returned to Annesbury, pleased the whole adventure took no more than a week.
He returned home in the middle of the afternoon and immediately received correspondence from his London solicitor and Lady Heatherton’s barrister in Bath.
“Gresham,” he’d said, carefully reading through the contract the barrister was negotiating on behalf of the baroness. “I need you to prepare the staff to receive a new countess.”
The old man froze, his usually unflappable nature giving way to a moment of shock. “A new countess, my lord?”
“Yes. I plan to marry before the week is out.” He watched his butler with interest, knowing this would be a good indication of how his news would be received by many.
“I see. May I congratulate you, my lord?”
“Thank you, Gresham. You may.” He turned his attention back to his papers, shuffling through them with a concentrated frown. Everything appeared to be in order, but he would consult with Lady Heatherton.
“My lord?”
He glanced up, surprised to see the butler remained in the same place. “Yes, Gresham? Something you wish to say?”
The elderly gentleman half bowed. “Might I inquire as to who the new countess will be?”
“Lady Virginia Macon, Baroness of Heatherton. Oh, and she brings two children with her, so we need to ready the nursery as quickly as possible.” He put his papers in a stack and stood, tucking them beneath his arm. “They’ll bring their own nurse, but we ought to assign a maid to the nursery as well.”
“I will see to it, my lord. I will make certain all is in good order for the countess.” He bowed and left the room, carrying the silver tray he’d used to bring the post to the study.
Lucas looked down at the papers in his arms and then at the mantel. Though still travel-worn, he decided he ought to go and speak to his bride-to-be. Combining their households was but one matter they would need to discuss.
He put the papers in a folder, tied the string tight, and went for his horse.
In a short while, he was riding onto the Gilberts’ property. The month of May had bestowed another sunny day on the countryside, for which he was grateful. The green lawns and brightly colored flowers rolled out from the Gilbert house like a carpet.
After dismounting, Lucas looped the reins of his horse through an obliging pole and went to the door. He was admitted to a downstairs parlor and waited for Lady Heatherton to appear.
Lucas set his folder down on a table and paced to the window overlooking the rear gardens, noticing Mrs. Gilbert at work clipping flowers. He smiled, remembering her deliveries
of fragrant blooms to his home.
The door clicked open. Lucas turned to greet the baroness, a ready smile on his face, but it faltered when he saw her expression.
She appeared as lovely as before, her blonde hair half down this time, a bandeau holding it back from her face. Her gown was muted gray, which made the somber look in her green eyes all the more foreboding. What could be wrong?
“My lady.” He bowed, then took several steps forward. “Is something amiss?”
She returned the courtesy and shook her head. “Not at all.” Her words did not match her expression in the least. “Please, my lord, won’t you sit down?” She gestured to an empty chair.
Lucas hesitated, his mind racing across the boundaries of propriety. They were betrothed, though hardly familiar with each other, making the lines of permissible conversation and concern blur. But if she was troubled, he ought to try to help.
“Lady Heatherton.” He took the offered seat but leaned forward, fixing his eyes on hers. “I can see something of a somber nature is on your mind. If you insist it is nothing, I will take you at your word, but know that I would like to be aware of your troubles.”
She lowered herself into the chair nearest his, though there was still a distance of three feet between them. She bit her bottom lip, considering him and his words.
“Very well. I suppose it is silly to stand on ceremony, considering our last meeting ended with our engagement.” The words, though said evenly, gave him hope she was a woman of good humor. “I have had two letters today. One is from my friend, Mr. Olivier, who has been advising me legally. The other is from my brother-in-law.”
“And which letter has upset you?” In possession of his own letter from the barrister, he felt he already knew the answer to his question.
“Mr. Macon, my brother-in-law, has discovered I am staying in this house. He wrote in a most determined manner that he wishes to see his nephews. To ascertain they are being cared for.” Her hands curled into fists in her lap and her face went pale. “Given his manner toward me after my late-husband’s passing, this distresses me.”
“I see.” Lucas’s first instinct was to reach out, put a comforting hand on her arm, but he sat back in his chair instead. “Did he give any indication of when he wished to come?”
“No. But it is only a matter of time.” She clasped her hands before her, making an obvious effort to relax her posture. “The letter from Mr. Olivier was more encouraging. He received your letter, and mine, and advised me to go through with the marriage. If you are still amenable.”
Lucas nodded. “I am. My only concern is how soon we can manage it. We have to settle the legal matters—”
“The special license was no trouble?” she asked.
“None.” He leaned forward and unwound the string from the folder, laying it open on the table. The special license sat on top, stamp duty paid, the archbishop’s signature on the document. “I was lucky. The archbishop had a relatively clear calendar and was happy to see the son of an old friend.”
“That is good news.” She reached out and picked up the document, her eyes running over it with curiosity. “I’ve never seen one before.”
“Nor have I.” He took up the next paper. “This is the marriage settlement, in a draft form. If you agree to these points, we can ask someone local to make the contract for us. Once that is signed, we only have to appear before the vicar.”
She took the paper from his hand, laying the license down carefully. As she read, her eyes widened, then darted from the page to him and back. He attempted to appear indifferent, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair.
“This is—this is a great deal more than I expected. For myself and for the boys.” Her hand trembled and she steadied the paper by taking it up with the other as well. "My lord—”
“It is perfectly appropriate,” he said, shifting in his seat. When she looked up at him again, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, Lucas wondered if he ought to have had the proposed document delivered instead of coming himself. “I know Phillip has the title and all associated with that, so I have not settled so much on him as Edward. I have a younger brother, as you know, and it hardly seems fair that second sons are left with few choices. Edward will be able to choose an education and profession of his liking.”
The baroness nodded and lowered her head again, her shoulders rising and falling with her deep breath. “And there are provisions for me. I thank you for that. And future children.”
He nodded, his cravat feeling tight, and realized she hadn’t seen the gesture. She continued speaking before he could say anything.
“And everything else we discussed. Thank you. I appreciate your attention to those details.” She reached out to lay the paper down before lifting her head again. “I agree to these terms. Thank you.”
“I will have the contract drawn up.” He shuffled the papers, drawing the larger portion of the stack out. “These are records of my holdings and finances. I gathered what I could for you to see, should there be any questions…?” He let the phrase trail away, holding them out to her.
Lady Heatherton shifted in her chair and reached for the sheaf. “Thank you.” She lowered the paper to her lap, then a breathy laugh escaped her. “It is all very businesslike, isn’t it?”
It was nothing like Lucas’s engagement to Abigail. They had left all the paperwork to solicitors and had spent the days and weeks prior to their marriage holding hands and dreaming of things to come. But this arrangement could never be like that one. He had loved Abigail, and she him.
“It does feel very dry, doesn’t it?”
She reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking away to another corner of the room. “I have told the boys what is happening. Sparing them the details of their uncle’s plans, of course.”
“Of course.” He cleared his throat, trying to relax his posture. “What was their reaction? Did they understand?”
“I think so. Phillip is less certain than Edward. But I told them you mean to help me, as their father wished, to care for them.” Her lips curved upward in a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “They are predisposed to like you, thanks to the glue.”
“Ah, yes. How is the wooden patient faring?” Talk of the children felt more natural, somehow, than talk of marriage.
“Very well. They took the bandage off this morning and it appears the leg will stay in place, barring another fall.” There, at last, her smile was genuine and her eyes lit up. “They will be the best of friends until the next disagreement.”
He chuckled. “My lady, they are very fine boys. I look forward to coming to know them better.”
“Thank you.” She paused and he watched her expression go from relaxed to uncertain. “My lord, why are you doing this for us?”
Lucas met her gaze and considered his reasons, trying to determine how best to explain them to her. She must be having second thoughts. Any sane woman would be. He decided the simplest answer would be best.
“Because, Lady Macon, it is the right thing to do, and I am in the position to do it.” He spoke with firmness of mind, determined in his course.
She regarded him silently, her eyes searching his, and he wondered if she saw the doubts he’d chased away by moving forward. Whatever she saw, it must’ve reaffirmed her decision.
“I think you ought to call me Virginia.”
A warm burst of confidence spread through him and he raised his hand to take hers, as though they were sealing a pact. “Then I am Lucas.”
Chapter Eight
Virginia did not answer her brother-in-law’s letter. The earl—Lucas—had obtained a suitable contract for her to sign the day after he returned from London. He arranged everything with the vicar and they agreed to marry in the church three days later, with only Thomas and Christine for witnesses. Even though it was not necessary to hold the ceremony in the church, Virginia had requested it. The marriage wouldn’t feel real to her if it took place anywhere else.
“I cannot believe you are marrying tomorrow,” Christine said from her perch on Virginia’s bed. “Everything is happening so fast.”
“I know.” Virginia was in a dressing gown, arranging her dresses in a trunk. “Of a necessity.”
Christine huffed and tugged at her braided hair beneath her tall black hat. She had only just come in from a morning ride with Thomas and had stopped to see if Virginia was awake.
“What will you wear to be married? It cannot be mourning clothes.”
Virginia paused, pursing her lips. “I had not really thought of it. I only brought mourning clothes with me.” She straightened and looked inside her trunk again, noting all the layers of black crepe and gray muslin. “Oh dear.”
Christine slid from the bed and looked inside the trunk as well. “It is rather dismal, for a wedding trousseau.”
Virginia met her cousin’s wide eyes, then burst out laughing. Christine, at first startled, soon joined her as well. All the worry over Mr. Macon, the concern for her sons, and the anxiety over her marriage had taken its toll on her. She had barely slept and had few reserves to call upon.
It was laugh or cry, and Virginia was quite finished with the former.
Her cousin recovered first and knelt next to the open trunk. “What are you going to do, Virginia?”
“I’m not certain. We are somewhat near in size. Could I borrow something of yours?”
“A borrowed wedding gown.” Christine shook her head, her expression rueful. “Absolutely shocking. Not a single member of the ton would condone such a thing.”
“I hardly care for them.” Virginia sighed and knelt as well. “And you will not think ill of me for it.”
“Of course not. How would I, if it’s my gown? I have excellent taste.” Christine sniffed and pushed herself back to her feet. “I will be back in a moment.” She went to the door and disappeared, closing it behind her.
Virginia reached into the trunk and moved a few items around, until she found the bright bit of green she searched for. It was the shawl another cousin, Christine’s sister Julia, had made for her. The delicate work had been finished just before Julia’s own wedding and gifted with an apology that Virginia could not wear it in mourning. She had treasured it anyway, seeing the beautiful piece as something to help her look forward to things to come.
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