by Nancy Butler
“Christ, Niall,” Romulus muttered. “He looks like a pug dog.”
Unmindful of this allusion to his excessive girth, the swan began to peck entreatingly at Rom’s leg.
“I think he looks beautiful,” Diana exclaimed as she knelt to stroke the bird’s long, white neck.
“He just needs a bit of exercise, is all,” Niall said. “He’s outgrown the lake at Hamish House, but I wanted to wait until you were back before I took him on the river. He’s got a new boot now, and I’ve started on the next one, for when he’s full grown.”
Romulus turned to his friend. “You’ve got a rare skill, Niall. You should do something with it…something along medical lines, perhaps. There are veterans aplenty in London who could use a new limb.”
Niall gave a hoot. “That’s bloody likely. A Gypsy doctor.”
Diana interjected, “Well, if a swankeeper can run for Parliament, I don’t see why a Gypsy can’t become a physician.”
“Who’s running for Parliament?” her husband asked with a flash of his golden eyes.
Diana put a hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t to say anything until James had spoken with you. They need a representative from this district. Beveril said he would put in a word for you, if you were interested.”
Romulus shook his head in amused resignation. “Back in England two days, and already hip deep in intrigue. I knew I would never be bored with you, Allegra, but have a little pity.”
“I’m leaving now,” Niall announced. “Before you two come to blows.” He swept the swanling up in his arms. “Oh, by the way, my granty sent you a gift—it’s on the porch.”
He went off, whistling his usual tune, as Romulus handed Allegra up the stairs. There was a basket on one of the benches. She drew away the checkered cloth and then exclaimed, “Eel pie! Oh, Romulus, look.”
“I am looking,” he said softly, his eyes grown dark. He removed the basket from her hands, and then slid his arms along her waist. “And I am recalling a promise I made to you on the river stairs in Treypenny.”
“You said the next time you kissed me, it would be on this porch,” she recited.
“There’s been a deal of kissing since then,” he remarked.
“Aye,” she said wickedly. “And not only kissing.”
He gave her a wry look. “Yes, that too. But I think I still owe you that one kiss.”
“Oh, very well,” she sighed, as she closed her eyes and pursed up her mouth in a dutiful manner.
He let his thumb drift over the hard line of her lips, until her mouth softened and opened slightly.
“You are very glib…” he began.
“What?” she asked breathlessly, gazing up at him through half-closed eyes.
“For a woman…” he said, as he leaned closer and tangled his hands in her hair. “Who is about to be compromised on the front porch of a swankeeper’s lodge.”
“No,” she said, trying not to laugh. It seemed she laughed a great deal these days. “I doubt you could manage it, what with the benches and the stairs and such.”
“Like falling off a fog,” he said as he tugged her into his arms.
* * *
Niall stopped watching from the bushes right about the time Romulus finished kissing his wife and carried her into the house. There was now a fine walnut bed in the bedroom, another gift from the lady across the water. And the storeroom had been turned into a second bedroom, which was a good thing, what with the baby on the way. Well, two babies, actually. Twins. Just like Romulus and Remus in the storybook from Lady Hamish’s library. But he’d let them discover that for themselves, he decided with a grin, as he caught up the swan and headed for his skiff.
They didn’t need to know everything his granty saw in her chicken bones.
Author’s Note
There really is an inhabited island on the stretch of the Thames described in my story. Eel Pie Island lies several miles south of Richmond and can be reached by a riverside footpath. It is currently home to a number of charming cottages and is connected to the mainland by a rickety footbridge that rises up over the water. I was also inspired by visits to two Thames estates: Ham House, with its elegant gardens and sweeping facade, and York House, with its fabulous fountain. I apologize to lovers of the Thames for any liberties I may have taken with its history—and plead imagination, my wayward consort, as an excuse.
To Mom and Dad—who showed me the world
And to Elaine—who showed me the island
Copyright © 1998 by Nancy Hajeski w/a Nancy Butler
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9780451195746)
Electronically published in 2017 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
