“Indeed,” Joshua replied proudly. “In December, if I am to believe the math involved. So I am more lovable. And apparently more loving,” he added, stealing a glance at Charlotte and enjoying her discomfort at the change in the conversation.
“Perhaps attentive is a better term,” Charlotte offered, thinking that the word ‘loving’ might be too much to admit to for the earl.
Henry shook his head. “Not a strong enough word to describe a man when he knows his wife is about to bear him an heir,” he stated firmly, lifting his arm so Hannah’s hand was close enough that he could lean down and kiss the back of it. Surprised, she looked up then, catching his gaze as he gave her a wink and a grin.
“I do hope I am being attentive,” Joshua put in, his brows suddenly furrowed. “I do try,” he said in his own defense.
“And you’re doing a rather splendid job of it,” Charlotte agreed, leaning toward him as they walked so their bodies bumped against one another. Joshua countered by leaning toward Charlotte so that they bumped again with the next step, making her smile at his antics.
“So, then, Gisborn, am I to understand that you are also experiencing impending fatherhood?” Joshua wondered, his tone conversational.
“Indeed, although ‘impending’ implies very soon, and I will not be a father until next January,” he stated proudly.
Joshua nodded. “Congratulations are in order then! And if ‘attentive’ is not a strong enough word to describe you, then what word would you use to describe yourself, Gisborn?” he ventured, causing Charlotte to inhale slightly and lift her head to shake it so that only Joshua could see her alarm.
The earl slowed his steps, his attention once more on his wife. “I would need more than one word, Your Grace,” he replied softly. “For I find myself loved and in love.”
Charlotte held her breath as she watched Hannah look up at the earl, a look of astonishment on her friend’s face.
“Which is a surprise to me,” Henry continued, “For I thought a man could only love one woman during his lifetime. But I find I love three.”
A chorus of “Three?” responded in unison to this stunning bit of news.
“Now, you really must explain yourself, Gisborn,” Joshua admonished the earl, wondering if the man realized to what he had admitted.
“Gladly,” Gisborn stated, a slight grin on his face. “First, there is Sarah, the first woman I loved, who I grew up with and who bore me a son, despite knowing ... insisting, rather, that she would never be my wife,” he explained patiently. “And then there is your wife ...”
Joshua stopped in his tracks, a stab of jealousy roused in him so suddenly he had no words while Charlotte’s eyebrows arched in surprise, her shocked expression meeting Joshua’s look of astonishment before moving onto the equally stunned expression on Hannah’s face.
“...Who loved me enough as a friend to see fit to recommend her best friend as my wife. I shall love her for that until my dying day, I’ll have you know,” he said with a good deal of emphasis.
Charlotte and Joshua exchanged awkward glances, both finally smiling as the earl continued his explanation.
“And then there is my wife, whom I have fallen deeply in love with over the course of the past few months, although if I were pressed, I would have to admit I was probably in love with her the first time we rode together in Hyde Park, when she told me she wanted nothing more in life than to be a mother.”
Hannah stared up at Henry, her mouth forming an ‘o’ and her breath held as she gazed at him. “Oh, Henry,” she breathed, placing the side of her head against his coat and the palm of her hand against his cheek. Henry moved his free arm around her shoulders and held her for a moment before leaning down to kiss her on the top of her bonnet.
“I can only claim the one love,” Joshua stated emphatically, tapping one boot as he pulled Charlotte against his body and kissed her bonnet.
“And one is quite enough for you,” Charlotte responded firmly. “I am not sharing you with anyone,” she added for good measure, surprised she could make such a claim in the company of others.
Joshua inhaled slowly and let it out, suppressing the smile he felt when he noticed Henry’s raised eyebrow in his direction. “Of course, Your Grace,” he agreed with a nod. “My, but you are a willful woman,” he said under his breath, intending for all of them to hear his comment.
Charlotte cocked her head to one side and gave her duke a prim smile. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Joshua smiled in return. No, I wouldn’t.
“So, my loving and very lovable wife, what are we to have for dinner this evening?” Henry asked as they made their way to Gisborn Hall.
Hannah grinned and gave Charlotte a sideways glance. “I am thinking pheasants under glass, mashed potatoes, beans and bread,” she said aloud. And then, under her breath, she whispered, “And I’m having you for dessert.”
Henry’s eyes widened as he nearly stumbled in his tracks. “Oh, now, that really is my favorite meal!” he announced happily.
Read on for an excerpt from
Linda Rae Sande’s
next book featuring
another Grandby goddaughter
The Widowed Countess
“You cannot go to breakfast dressed like that, my lady,” Missy announced just as the perfectly coiffed Clarinda was about to open her bedchamber door. Wondering what Missy meant by the proclamation, Lady Norwick looked down and realized she only wore her chemise and corset under a silk dressing gown. A black kerseymere gown was spread out on the bed. Black silk stockings dribbled over the edge of the mattress, and a pair of black slippers were on the floor beneath. Black would be the extent of her wardrobe for a long time to come, she realized.
“Oh,” Clarinda managed to get out before her shoulders slumped. Good grief! Had she really almost left her bedchamber wearing nothing more than a dressing grown? Well, so what if she had? No one would even notice what she was wearing given the elaborate hair style Missy had managed to create!
Once Missy had her dressed, Clarinda once again announced she had every intention of eating and then made her way downstairs to the breakfast room. Moving through the doorway, she smelled the kippers long before she realized they were on the sideboard.
And on the plate in front of Daniel Fitzwilliam.
Her stomach suddenly roiling, Clarinda gasped and hurried through the room, passing her startled brother-in-law and holding a hand against her belly as she mumbled an, “Excuse me,” and disappeared into the butler’s pantry. She found a chamber pot underneath the silver cabinet just in time.
Well, it wasn’t really a chamber pot, she realized too late. The rather large and elaborately decorated soup tureen worked just as well, though.
“My lady! Are you alright?”
Clarinda whirled around to find Rosie, one of the main floor servants, carrying a stack of dishes through the butler’s pantry. The sudden motion did little to settle Clarinda’s stomach, but at least the smell of fish didn’t reach her here. “I’ll be quite fine, thank you,” Clarinda answered as she finished wiping her lips with her hanky.
But Rosie’s eyes widened. “My lady! You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
Gasping, Clarinda’s own eyes widened. Damnation! Was it that apparent she’d been visited by David? she wondered as she straightened and put one hand up to her face. “Oh?” she ventured as calmly as she could manage, wondering what gave it away.
“You’re quite pale, my lady,” Rosie said as she put down the dishes. “Should I have Porter send for the physician?”
Swallowing hard, Clarinda considered the offer. There really was no need to have Dr. Collins come over when she already knew why she felt sick. All he would do is confirm her state of impending motherhood and probably attach a few leeches to her. She shuddered at the image of the slimy things on her skin, deciding the thought alone made her sicker than the smell of kippers in the next room. “No, Rosie, that won’t be necessary,” she managed to ge
t out before she inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m feeling better already, although I do think I’ll just make my way back to the hallway using a different route,” she said as she left the butler’s pantry from the direction the maid had come.
“Yes, my lady,” Rosie reluctantly replied as she bobbed a curtsy. “May I say, my lady, your hair looks very nice today.”
Clarinda fought the urge to look up. “Thank you, Rosie.” Once again very hungry, Clarinda wanted nothing more than to have breakfast, but the thought of going back into the breakfast parlor was rather unappetizing. Not only did it smell like kippers, but Daniel was in there. She thought he’d been reading The Times – at least, he’d been holding up a newspaper as he ate, she remembered – so perhaps he hadn’t even noticed her quick trip through the room. To him, she probably just looked like a black whirling dervish, although she was sure her skirts created a breeze that probably ruffled his dark, silky, wavy hair. She was quite sure he hadn’t taken his attention away from the newspaper, though. But from the very brief glimpse she’d had of him, he was still the epitome of David in appearance. So handsome, so fit, so very much a man.
“So the mere sight of me makes you ill, does it?”
Clarinda had just come around the corner from the servant’s hall into the main hall, nearly colliding with Daniel as she did so. As tall as David and just as developed across the shoulders and chest, he made for an imposing figure. And, at the moment, a rather frightening one.
“Daniel!” she gasped, stopping suddenly, one hand pressed to her bosom. After another loud heartbeat, she took another breath. “No,” she added with a shake of her head when she realized what he’d said. She could feel ... was that anger emanating from his body? “I just cannot bear the odor of...”
“Oh, so now I smell bad?” he countered, his eye blazing with barely contained fury.
Taking an involuntary step backward, Clarinda dropped her hands to her sides, allowing her fists to clench. “You don’t. Truly. But the kippers do,” she managed to get out in a voice that belied the sudden embarrassment that colored her face.
There was a very long pause as the two regarded one another. Clarinda’s hands unclenched and Daniel’s stance seem to relax just a bit.
“Kippers?” he replied, one eyebrow cocking into an expression that suggested disbelief.
“Kippers, yes,” Clarinda acknowledged with a nod, her face still red with embarrassment. Of all the things to happen when she was faced with the prospect of seeing Daniel for the first time in three years, she never would have expected to feel nauseous and have to cast up her accounts, especially in front of a servant.
Daniel blinked, a mannerism Clarinda found very similar to the way David would sometimes react when she said something that befuddled him. Which, now that she thought about it, was quite frequently.
“Not because you find the sight of me somehow ... repugnant?” This last was delivered in a voice that suggested Daniel Fitzwilliam still didn’t believe her.
It was Clarinda’s turn to blink. “No! Of course not,” she replied with a bit too much emphasis.
Daniel seemed to take a step backward, even though his feet did not move an inch. “You do not find the sight of me to be ... repugnant?”
Clarinda’s mouth opened in astonishment. How can this man be so thick? she wondered, fighting to keep her annoyance from showing on her face. She took a deep breath as she gazed at David’s identical twin, looking for any sign of something that was different from her late husband. “Since you look exactly like the man I married, and since I found that man to be quite handsome, I have to admit I could never find the sight of you repugnant,” she said in a careful, measured tone, thoroughly explaining her reasoning in the hopes her brother-in-law would understand. Then she found herself hoping she wasn’t going to have to deal with Daniel’s newly inflated ego, which had probably grown several times larger given her adamant assurance that he was handsome.
Damnation, though. He was handsome. There were a few differences between him and David, she now was coming to realize, although none of them were differences a casual acquaintance would notice. The little scar near his eye, the one he’d suffered at the point of a bayonet during one of the wars in France, gave him a rakish air. And given his hair was just a shade darker and held just a bit more wave than David’s did – probably because David spent more time out of doors – she would have to admit that Daniel was just a bit more handsome than David. Damn, damn, double damn! she thought, not able to tear her eyes away from David’s twin.
Daniel’s mouth began opening and then closing, over and over, as if he was about to say something and then suddenly thought better of it. Clarinda thought he looked somewhat like the tropical fish Lord Everly kept in the large glass tank in his library. “But ... I thought you ... despised me,” he finally managed to get out.
Clarinda’s brows furrowed, a little wrinkle developing between them. “Only because ... because you despise me,” she countered, rather surprised he would voice the sentiment and she would bother to reply.
“I do not!” Daniel exclaimed, his protest a bit too loud. He reached out with a finger and poked her right between her brows, as if he was curious about the little wrinkle that had appeared there and thought he could simply press it away with a push of his fingertip.
Pulling his finger away, he stared at that spot, mesmerized. “You really need to stop doing whatever it is that creates that little ...” He pointed at the fold between her brows using the same finger he’d poked her with before, adding, “Or you’ll find it will be permanent,” he stated with a finality that suggested he was an expert on such abnormalities. “At least, that’s what Mother is always telling me about mine.”
The feel of his finger touching her sent a shock wave through Clarinda. She might have found it rather pleasant, except something akin to a volcano had began to build deep inside of her, with its molten lava heat and steam churning and rumbling. Although the rumbling was probably due to her hunger pangs, Clarinda realized the rest – the suppressed anger over his impertinent comment, the outrage she felt at his having poked her, the sudden desire to see him uncomfortable – was about to erupt all over Daniel Fitzwilliam. Pity the man who witnesses a volcanic eruption in the home he is expected to occupy for the next several years, Clarinda found herself thinking, knowing just then she would have to gain the upper hand on this poor excuse for a man right now.
But then Daniel’s last comment and the denial made just before it worked to tamp down the volcano. She felt the steam inside her suddenly dissipate. He doesn’t despise me? she wondered in awe.
“You’re doing it again,” Daniel murmured as he kept his eye on the furrow between her brows. “It’s rather ... cute when you do it, though,” he added, his words sounding as if he were in awe rather than pointing out an ugly feature on her otherwise beautiful face.
She is still so beautiful, he thought as his gaze took in her oval face with the perfect complexion, the high cheekbones, pert nose and aquamarine eyes that seemed to see right into his soul. The lashes that surrounded those eyes were dark like her hair, and curved so they seemed to sweep through the air as they fell over the light blue-green of her eyes. And when they lifted, it was like a curtain rising to reveal the aquamarine jewels of her countenance. Her maid had obviously become adept at dressing her hair. The elaborate coiffure would have been suitable for a ball at Carleton House. He noticed how she had a tooth caught in her lower lip, the plump flesh bent in just a bit where it made contact. And she was watching him as if she was trying to solve a puzzle. She is more beautiful than she was when we cursed one another all those years ago.
At the moment, he couldn’t even remember why they had cursed one another. Couldn’t remember what had brought on the accusations that caused her face to redden and her anger to erupt so forcefully. Like a volcano, he thought, all steam and molten lava roiling out of her. And then she’d slapped him. Even today, he could feel the sting of that open-handed
hit. Like a steam burn, he remembered. He could feel the force behind it as her arm swung hard and impacted him like shrapnel from an explosion. He was sure it had hurt her more than it did him, but if it did, he never saw Clarinda flinch.
About the Author
A self-described nerd and lover of science, Linda Rae spent many years as a published technical writer specializing in 3D graphics workstations, software and 3D animation (her movie credits include SHREK and SHREK 2). An interest in genealogy led to years of research on the Regency era and a desire to write fiction based in that time.
Now running the front office of a busy print shop, she’s developed an appreciation for pretty papers and spends time using them in her scrapbooks. She can frequently be found at the local cinema enjoying the latest movie. During the winter, she hosts several junior hockey players, and an indeterminate number of tropical fish live with her year-round. She makes her home in Cody, Wyoming. See her upcoming books on her website: www.lindaraesande.com.
The Seduction of an Earl Page 34
