The Homeless Heiress

by Anne Herries

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Richard replied. ‘Minx! Yes, he will do very well, I think.’

  ‘Perhaps…’ Georgie sighed as she glanced out of the window. ‘How long before we are home?’

  ‘Three hours, I imagine,’ he replied, his eyes narrowing. ‘You look tired—are you?’

  ‘Just a little.’

  ‘Then rest your head on my shoulder and sleep for a while.’ He put his arm about her protectively. ‘Sleep and we shall soon be there, my love.’

  He frowned as she closed her eyes. It was not like Georgie to want to sleep in the middle of the day, but perhaps all the troubles of the past few weeks had caught up with her at last.

  Georgie woke as the carriage came to a halt. She yawned and looked at Richard apologetically, because she must have slept for such a long time.

  ‘Your poor shoulder must hurt,’ she said. ‘You should have woken me, Richard.’

  ‘You were tired,’ he said. ‘I did not want to disturb you and my shoulder is fine. I would not have woken you now, but everyone is waiting to greet their new mistress, my love.’

  Georgie looked out of the window and saw the house that was now to be her home. It was larger than Lord Maddison’s but newer, no more than fifty years old, and very attractively built in the Palladian style with a portico of white pillars and long windows that glistened in the sun.

  ‘Oh, it is beautiful,’ she said. ‘I love it, Richard!’

  ‘I am glad,’ he said. ‘My grandfather had it built for his bride, but she did not live long enough to enjoy it, and died giving birth to my father. My mother survived my birth and Jenny’s, but died giving birth to another son, who died with her.’ He gave a little shudder, his eyes intent on her face. ‘I hope we shall not have a child too soon, my dearest. I do not want you to suffer as she did.’

  Jenny gave him her hand as he helped her down from the carriage. She kept her face turned from his in case he should see her expression. She had held back from telling him her news, for fear that it was premature, but she was almost certain now that she was having his child. It needed only a doctor’s confirmation, but now she felt unsure about telling him. He did not want their baby…

  Georgie looked round the beautiful suite of rooms she had been shown to after being introduced to all the servants lined up waiting for her arrival. It seemed that Richard had been accustomed to living in some style, though he had not chosen to spend much time here in the past—perhaps because of some secret sorrow he had not yet shared with her?

  She knew that the loss of his mother in childbed had affected him, but was there something else he had not told her? Perhaps a lost love?

  She was standing at the window, staring out at the view over the park when the door opened behind her and Richard entered, coming to stand at her back, his arms going around her.

  ‘You seem pensive, my love?’

  ‘I was wondering why you spent so little time here, Richard. It is such a lovely house, and the grounds are beautiful. Is there something you have not told me?’

  He gazed down at her. ‘My father grieved so long for my mother,’ he said. ‘He spent most of his time in London or Newmarket. Jenny and I were thrown into our own company, and then she went to live with the countess. After that I was alone, even before my father died. Justin was my best friend and I told you how he died. I decided to join up when I was quite young, and I got drawn into the life. I saw no point in coming here other than to make sure my agents were caring for it as they should.’

  ‘But you do want to live here now?’

  ‘Now that I have you,’ he agreed. ‘I have given up soldiering and the old life, Georgie. We shall spend all our days together—and our nights, my love. When I go to London, you will come with me.’

  ‘And supposing I could not come for some reason…?’

  He frowned as he gazed at her. ‘I do not understand, Georgie. Why should you not accompany me? You are not ill?’ He was suddenly anxious. ‘You were so tired in the carriage…’

  ‘Jenny said she was very tired when she was having her children.’

  ‘Having…’He stared at her, his expression so mixed that she felt a shaft of disappointment. ‘Are you having our child, Georgie?’

  ‘I am not sure,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure at first, but I have not seen my monthly flow since we left Brussels…’

  ‘My love,’ he said. ‘You should have told me. Last night we danced and then I made love to you…I may have hurt you.’

  ‘Do not be foolish, Richard,’ Georgie said. ‘I talked to Jenny before we parted. She told me it does not harm the child in the early months. It is only later that you must take care—and I have not even been certain, but I have not seen my courses for a while and I feel different.’ She saw his frown. ‘You are not pleased. I am sorry. I wish it might have been different for your sake.’

  ‘Of course I am pleased—if you are?’ She nodded. ‘But we have had so little time together and…I do not want to lose you.’ She heard the underlying pain in his voice. ‘I cannot lose you now, my dearest love.’

  ‘You will not lose me,’ she said, pressing herself closer, lifting her face for his kiss. ‘I am strong and the thought of childbearing does not frighten me, Richard. Your mother died in childbed, but it is not so for all women. I shall carry our child well, and I shall survive the birth. I promise you.’

  ‘Yes, you will,’ he said, and bent his head to touch his lips to hers. ‘You are my brave, troublesome girl and I shall not let the past cloud my mind. What happened to my mother and grandmother will not happen to you. I shall not let it!’

  ‘We shall not let it,’ she said and laughed as she saw the laughter in his eyes. ‘Remember, this is me, Richard—not a fragile flower that wilts in the sun.’

  Afterword

  ‘You may go in now, Sir Richard,’ the doctor said as he came out of Lady Hernshaw’s chamber and found her husband pacing the floor restlessly. ‘Her ladyship has been delivered of a fine son, and is wishful to see you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Richard said, relief in his eyes. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Perfectly well, just as I told you she would be,’ the doctor said and smiled. ‘Your wife is a very brave lady. She made little of it, though it was not easy for her. But you should go in now, because she says she will not rest until you do.’

  ‘That sounds like Lady Georgie,’ Richard said and laughed. ‘I thank you again for coming here to stay for the birth, Dr Forrest. Georgie said it was not necessary to bring you all the way from London, but I insisted.’

  ‘You were concerned for her,’ the doctor replied, a faint smile in his eyes. ‘But she is very strong, you know. I do not think you will need me again for a while, but I shall not leave for London until later this afternoon.’

  Richard thanked him again, and then went in to see his wife. She was sitting up against the pillows, her lovely hair spread out around her, looking as beautiful and fresh as ever. She showed no sign of having suffered anything untoward, though he knew from the doctor that the birth had not been easy—but she was alive and that was all that truly mattered.

  ‘My dearest love,’ he said as she beckoned him forward, offering him the child she held in her arms. ‘You have a son.’

  ‘We have a beautiful son, Richard,’ she told him. ‘Look at him and tell me if he was not worth all the trouble.’

  Richard took his son, looked and saw the beautifully formed features, his wife’s eyes and hair—and fell in love.

  ‘He is wonderful,’ he said. ‘What shall we call him?’

  ‘Richard?’ she suggested. ‘We can shorten it to Dickon while he is a child, if you wish.’

  ‘I think we should call him George,’ Richard said. ‘He looks very much like you, my darling.’

  ‘Very well, he shall be George, Richard,’ she said and smiled up at him. ‘You had better give him to the nurse now, my dearest, and then sit with me, here on the bed, because I am really rather sleepy and I want you to hold my hand.�
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  Richard bent to kiss her on the lips. ‘Go to sleep, my love. I shall sit with you while you rest.’

  He held her hand, watching her as she slipped into a peaceful sleep. His little urchin, the troublesome girl he had fallen in love with while she dressed as a boy and tortured his dreams, now the most beautiful woman he knew. How much she had brought him, his darling Georgie. He felt the fear leaving him, slipping away, the loneliness of years vanishing into the air he breathed. She had given him his beautiful son and he did not doubt that she would give him more children as the years passed, but she would not die and leave him as his mother had left his father. They would live in peace and content until they were both old…until they had grandchildren to fill the house with love and laughter.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6611-1

  THE HOMELESS HEIRESS

  Copyright © 2008 by Anne Herries

  First North American Publication 2010

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