“Very good, my lady,” Porter replied as he saw to the disbursement of the floral bounty.
Clarinda watched as the roses paraded past, one of them moving into the parlor, its carrier completely hidden by the display. The last time roses had been delivered to Norwick House, they had been red roses, roses ordered by her husband in honor of her birthday. And every birthday for the past four years, she remembered. Always red. Never pink.
She turned to re-enter the parlor at the same time Rosie appeared with the tea tray. “Thank you, Rosie,” she said as she returned to the settee. Spreading her black kerseymere skirt, she seated herself and regarded Daniel with a raised eyebrow, daring him to deny his involvement in the floral delivery.
Daniel returned her gaze and finally gave her a shrug. “I despise gladioli,” he stated with a frown.
“That’s hardly grounds to buy out every hot house within a fifty mile radius of their entire stock of pink roses,” Clarinda chided him with a mischievous grin.
“It was only three greenhouses, and they were all in Chiswick,” he countered stubbornly. A slight flush had colored his face, making Clarinda wonder when he had managed to order so many roses. At least Chiswick was on the way from Sussex, given the road he would have traveled to get to Norwick House.
“Where did you stay last night?” Clarinda asked quietly, realizing he had to have arrived in London sometime the day before.
Daniel seemed surprised by the question, but shrugged. “I have an apartment in Bruton Street,” he stated in a manner that suggested every bachelor had such a thing.
Leaning over to pour tea, Clarinda wondered why he would have waited until this morning to move into Norwick House. “You were welcome to stay here,” she countered, handing him a cup and saucer. He seemed for a moment to be lost in thought. “This is your home now, after all,” she added, wondering if now would be a good time to tell him about the baby. She poured a cup for herself and stirred in a several spoonfuls of sugar.
Daniel took a deep breath, glad to hear her make the offer and amused at the amount of sugar she was adding to her tea. She’s nervous, he realized, but ever the gracious hostess. He would never have asked if he could move into Norwick House, even if it was now his right to take up residence in the beautiful home David had made into the family’s London seat. “Thank you,” he said with a nod. “I do hope you are planning on remaining in residence, my lady,” he added, his eyes downcast as he made the statement.
Clarinda relaxed a bit and settled against the hard back of the settee. As she took a sip of her overly sweetened tea, she realized she hadn’t given much thought to where she would live. There had been too many other details to consider. “I had hoped to be able to stay,” she answered carefully. “I will take another bedchamber, of course,” she added, remembering that it was his right to take David’s bedchamber. The room and hers shared a closet and dressing room; it wouldn’t suit to live in adjoining chambers.
“You shall do no such thing, my lady,” Daniel replied with a shake of his head.
Stunned at his insistent tone, Clarinda blinked at his statement. “But, won’t you want that bedchamber for your future wife?” she asked in surprise, leaning forward to place her cup and saucer on the tea table.
Daniel lowered his eyes and did not give his reply for some time. Clarinda waited patiently, wondering what he was about to say. “Yes,” he finally acknowledged. “But I expect it will be some time before I can convince the lady to be my wife,” he stated carefully. “Probably a year or more.”
“Oh?” Clarinda replied, instantly wondering who he had in mind for the position as his countess. I’m a dowager countess now, she suddenly realized, the thought so appalling she actually shuddered.
No wonder Dorothea didn’t wear black.
“Are you cold?” Daniel wondered, leaning forward again, his look of concern surprising Clarinda.
“No, I ... I just thought of my new title, and I find I don’t particularly like it,” she murmured, her brows furrowing so the little wrinkle between them appeared again.
Daniel angled his head, a look of consternation on his face. “Dowager Countess, you mean?” he offered, wishing he could lean over and poke the little wrinkle into submission. God, she’s beautiful. She was more beautiful now than that day he’d asked for her hand in Kensington Gardens. There would be no dowager countess title for her if he could help it.
Clarinda shuddered again, giving him a quelling look at his slightly amused expression. “Yes. I hadn’t expected to be such a thing for many years to come.”
Daniel regarded the love of his life for a very long time. “My lady ...”
“You should call me ’Clarinda’,” she interrupted suddenly. “Or ’Clare’. We’re family. It hardly seems proper for you to call me anything else.”
Daniel could think of many monikers he would like to call her, some not appropriate for anywhere but the marriage bed. “Clare,” he amended, “I have every intention ...”
“I am with child,” Clarinda blurted suddenly, surprised at herself that she would simply announce it out loud like that. But the time seemed right, and she was afraid she would lose her nerve if she didn’t say something right then.
“I am well aware of your condition,” Daniel replied, his lower lip suddenly trembling.
Clarinda regarded him in surprise, the little furrow between her brows reappearing. “You are?” She remembered Daniel’s mother and immediately thought the woman must have said something. “I told her I would tell you,” she said, her indignant tone clearly evoking her sense of outrage.
Holding up his hand as if it alone could stave off a volcanic eruption, Daniel said, “Mother didn’t tell me,” with a small shake of his head. He swallowed, just then realizing that he would have to tell her how he knew. “David did.”
Clarinda’s jaw slackened, stunned that her husband would have sent word to his brother when they hadn’t told anyone else. She hadn’t even told her best friends! Well, she’d told one. “When did he do that?” was all she could get out.
His eyes suddenly darting to one side, Daniel straightened in his chair. He couldn’t exactly tell her he’d learned of her pregnancy from David that morning. What would she think if he told her that David had visited him in his old bedchamber? Had repeatedly poked him, reminiscent of the way he did when they were young boys? And then proceeded to brag about the fact that he’d managed to get his wife with child, nay with twins, apparently for the third time?
Daniel had furrowed his brows at this bit of news, remembering what had happened the other two times. Good, God! Poor Clare, he remembered suddenly, his response at the time so visceral he nearly left his apartment and headed for Norwick House that very moment. But David must have realized that was his immediate plan, for his twin brother shook his head quickly. “Not necessary,” he’d said. “Happened a long time ago. But the third time is the charm,” he’d said proudly, his grin doubling when he’d whispered the word, “Twins,” and given Daniel another two pokes to emphasize his accomplishment.
Although Daniel was happy for this brother, he had to admit a sense of disappointment at the news, and not for the reason Clarinda would assume. She probably thought he wanted the earldom for himself and would be jealous if she gave birth to a son. Daniel was the spare in the old “heir and a spare” scenario, after all, his mother having completed the heir and spare bearing all in one fell swoop (although, to hear her tell it, she would have preferred to do it the more traditional method. Apparently, carrying twins made her twice as sick, caused her to gain four times as much weight, and ended up causing eight times as many stretch marks. Whatever those were.) But Daniel had never begrudged his older brother’s right to sire an heir. He simply wished he would have done so with a different wife. Daniel still wanted Clarinda for himself. He still intended Clarinda to be the mother of h
is own children.
Well, all in good time. He had plenty of that.
“Not too long ago,” Daniel finally answered carefully to her question of when David had told him her news. “You must be thrilled.” He almost added, “To be expecting twins,” but managed to stop himself when he remembered David saying he hadn’t yet told her. When Clarinda’s eyes widened in shock, Daniel immediately regretted saying anything about her condition.
He wondered how she’d feel when she discovered she was carrying twins.
What had David said? That he would just visit her in the middle of the night and tell her she was carrying twins? Damn! Double damn, in this case.
“He told you I was with child?” Clarinda stared at Daniel for a very long time, her mouth hanging open in shock.
Daniel reached over and placed his hand beneath her chin, pushing it up so her mouth was forced to close while resisting the urge to tell her she was carrying twins. Although he wanted to see her reaction at the news, she would forever wonder how he knew unless he admitted David had told him that, too. What would she think then? She would probably think she had a Bedlamite on her hands. “Congratulations, Clare,” he said with a mischievous grin. “You’ll make a wonderful mother.” He decided now was not the time to inform her he would do his best as their father, even if he was really just their uncle.
Clarinda studied her brother-in-law for a very long time, wondering just when David had sent word to his brother about her condition. And she couldn’t exactly tell Daniel how David came to her in the middle of the night. He’d think she was a Bedlamite!
“Thank you,” she murmured, very aware of Daniel’s hand still touching her chin, although now his fingers moved ever so lightly along her jaw until his hand cupped it. She was sure he was considering kissing her, the way his eyes kept glancing toward her lips and then back to her eyes, as if he was seeking her permission. And Clarinda was quite sure she hadn’t given him permission when she realized his head was moving toward hers. And try as she might, she couldn’t pull away. She might have even leaned forward a bit. She should really pull away. She despised him. She should admonish him for his impertinence. Scold him for thinking he could simply kiss her in the parlor. She was in mourning!
“There you are!” Dorothea announced happily from the doorway.
Clarinda had never seen David move as fast as Daniel did just then, his hand suddenly gone from her face and his body settled back into his chair as if he had just been motioning nonchalantly at something over her shoulder. Then he stood up with the air of a gentleman, turning to bow to his mother.
Dorothea swept into the room as if she owned the place. In a way, she sort of did, Clarinda had to admit as she rose to meet her mother-in-law. “Good morning, Clare. You’re looking especially lovely this morning,” Dorothea claimed as she moved to the chair opposite Clarinda, acting as if they hadn’t already had two conversations that morning before breakfast.
“Thank you, my lady,” Clarinda acknowledged the compliment, realizing almost immediately her face was displaying a bit more color than usual because she’d almost been caught kissing her impertinent brother-in-law in the parlor! The despicable man! “Would you like tea?” she asked as she reached for a cup and saucer and the tea pot.
“Of course. I just had the most delicious breakfast, even if my son neglected me for half of it and then disappeared for the other half,” she stated in a manner suggesting her son wasn’t in the room just then even though she was angling her head in his direction. “But he’s forgiven since he’s here and not already locked away in the study doing God-knows-what with the estate papers.”
Daniel cocked an eyebrow and nodded in his mother’s direction. “Thank you, Mother,” he murmured. If he made the comment facetiously, he didn’t let on with either the tone of his voice or with his impassive expression.
“I will let Cook know of your sentiments,” Clarinda responded with a smile, handing the teacup to Dorothea. “And the reason Daniel disappeared from the breakfast room was so I could share some good news he apparently already knew.”
At this, Dorothea’s eyes widened. “I didn’t tell him!” she claimed rather defensively. She turned her attention to Daniel, her eyes widening even more. “You already knew?” she questioned, her face taking on a look of confusion. And then it changed to something approaching offense, as if she thought he should have shared the news with her just as soon as he learned of it.
Daniel sighed in a manner suggesting he was a dead man. “My brother informed me,” he said simply, hoping he wasn’t going to be pressed for more details. At least with his mother, he could have told her the entire truth of it, David’s ghost and all, and she would scoff and admonish him for telling fibs. He was pretty sure Clarinda would take him at his word.
Dorothea huffed. “You men are worse gossips than we ladies,” she stated before helping herself to a cake. After a bite, she smiled. “If you haven’t already, Clare, you really must have one of these,” she said before discreetly wiping a crumb from her lips. “I just adore lemon cakes.”
Clarinda didn’t have to be encouraged to try one; despite having just finished breakfast a half-hour ago, she was hungry again. She held the plate of cakes for Daniel and then took one after he did. I am eating for two now, she thought to herself. And so what if she’d already gained half a stone in the past couple of months? It wasn’t as if she had to keep a trim figure for her husband.
“Now, Clare, what do you plan to wear to the funeral service?” Dorothea asked suddenly.
Suddenly self-conscious, Clarinda put the remaining bite of her cake on her saucer and considered her limited choices. “I believe a black silk carriage gown was included in the dresses the modiste brought yesterday,” she answered uncertainly. “And there was a black hat with a veil.”
Dorothea nodded, looking suitably somber. “That sounds lovely, darling,” she replied, her voice quite at odds with her comment. She turned to regard her son. “And you, Daniel?”
Daniel gave her an uncertain look, as if he’d been ignoring her comments and was suddenly caught not having heard the original question. “A suit of clothes,” he replied with a shrug.
“Daniel!” she admonished him. “Details, please,” she encouraged before finishing off her tea cake.
Giving his mother a quelling glance, Daniel sighed. He wasn’t really sure what the valet would choose, but given the circumstances, he could at least guess. “Black swallowtail coat, silver waistcoat, black breeches, black boots, black cravat ...”
“Ooh!” Dorothea interrupted with a wave of her hand. “You will look quite dashing as you escort Clare,” she said with an air of appreciation.
Daniel dared a glance at Clarinda, his first since his aborted attempt at a kiss. He hadn’t intended to kiss her, at least, not today. And not for several months, truth be told. She was in mourning. He was in mourning. But she’d looked so beautiful, so willing, so much like she had that day in Kensington Gardens when he’d asked for her hand in marriage amongst the pink roses. “I shall escort both of you,” he countered, realizing he had paused too long in his response.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Daniel,” Dorothea replied, one eyebrow arching suggestively. “Lord Wallingham will see to me,” she explained with a mischievous grin.
Clarinda’s gasp was barely audible, but her mother-in-law turned to regard her with a smile. “Wallingham and I have renewed our acquaintance this past week in Kent. He insisted he escort me tomorrow,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “And I am not about to deny him his pleasure.” She said this last with an elegantly arched eyebrow, daring anyone to guess what she really meant by the comment.
Daniel regarded her with a not so elegantly arched eyebrow of his own. “Am I to expect he will be my step-father soon?” he wondered, no amusement evident in the question. Although he held no part
icular dislike for the viscount, he didn’t really like the man, either. Oily, he thought as he remembered the man’s card play at the last ball Daniel had attended.
Dorothea’s eyes widened. “Goodness, no,” she replied, almost as if she was horrified by the thought of being married to Thurston Wallingham. Although Viscount Wallingham was a tall, dark-haired aristocrat, the son of an earl and a countess who was a daughter of a viscount, he was a rake and a gambler. But he was exceptional between the sheets. And given his propensity for bedding widows – and not necessarily young widows, as most rakes did – Dorothea Fitzwilliam thought to take her place among his conquests before she saw her sixth decade. “I’ve no intention of giving up my freedom to marry anyone,” she announced happily. She followed her proclamation with a sigh. “You, of course, will need to marry again,” Dorothea stated as she suddenly regarded her daughter-in-law. “The sooner, the better.”
Clarinda blinked. And blinked again. “I believe I have a year of mourning before I should even consider the idea of marriage, my lady,” she countered, daring a glance in Daniel’s direction and hoping he might admonish his mother more forcefully than she could.
Catching Clarinda’s expression of surprise, Daniel straightened in his chair. “Mother, really,” he said in a tone that clearly sounded admonishing. “David isn’t even in his grave yet. And had he heard your comment, he would be spinning in it.”
Clarinda’s mother-in-law was about to defend her comment, but closed her mouth and looked suitably saddened. “I just meant that Clare won’t have the freedom in her widowhood that I have in mine,” she said with a nod. “She’ll have a baby ...”
Or two, Daniel amended to himself, realizing just then that Clarinda really wouldn’t be able to adopt the lifestyle of most young widows. Having twins would certainly put a damper on being a merry widow.
The Widowed Countess Page 9
