by Anne Gracie
Until she shattered again in his arms, into sublime oblivion.
“Are you all right, love?”
Hope blinked and stretched. She noticed with a sense of amazement that rain was still pattering against the leaded windowpanes, that water continued to gurgle down the gutters.
How could everything be the same when she felt so different?
“My love?” His voice was deep. Anxious.
She turned in his arms and stared at him. Her man. Her beloved. He looked troubled. Gently he stroked her cheek with his thumbs. She was amazed to see they came away wet. Had she wept, then? She didn’t remember.
“How do you feel?” The question seemed momentous.
Hope thought about her answer, trying to think of the perfect way to tell him how she felt. It was so special, she wanted to get it right, make him see.
“When I was a little girl,” she began slowly, “I watched a snake split its skin. I feel like that snake now.”
“Oh God!” he exclaimed.
He bent to kiss her, but she held him back with her hand, cupping and stroking his jaw in loving reassurance. “No, wait, let me finish. I want to explain.”
He swallowed, looking unhappy.
“The snake was a dull mottled gray, and when it split its skin slowly, it looked painful, but I don’t think it was. It rubbed and rubbed against some rocks and then, suddenly, the skin started to split.”
He groaned, and she pressed her fingers over his mouth, saying, “Wait! The snake pushed itself between two rocks and wriggled and suddenly it just glided out, leaving its old dull gray skin behind. And, oh, Sebastian, the new snake was so fresh and beautiful, the colors on its skin were so bright and brilliant.” She looked at him and felt her vision blur with tears. “I feel like that snake, all new and different and beautiful. And you made me feel this way.”
Her words moved him, so that he was obliged to bury his face in her hair, lest he shed unmanly tears. Finally he was able to say, “But you are beautiful. An acknowledged belle of the ton.”
“Oh that!” She shook her head. “No matter what other people think of my looks, I have never felt beautiful. I have a twin who looks just like me. My sister Charity is much more beautiful than either of us, and Grace, I think, shall outshine us all one day. Prudence, the eldest of us, is the most wonderful person in the world, and yet the ton thought her plain.” She smiled. “But Prudence’s husband, Gideon, thinks her utterly beautiful and is honestly bewildered when others do not see it.”
She gave him a luminous look and stroked his cheek. “You do that to me. I have always felt like the clumsy, inadequate sister, the one who can never do things properly, never get things right. I am the hoyden, the one who breaks the rules, who acts before she thinks and gets everyone into trouble. I am frightened of the dark, of being shut in. I am argumentative, impatient—”
He hushed her with a kiss. “You are beautiful, inside and out. If people call you a hoyden it is an endearment, not a criticism.” He kissed her again. “You are generous and loving, and you bring joy wherever you go. You heal old hurts and open others to the joy in life you feel.” He took her face in his hands and said quietly, “And tonight you have made me the proudest and happiest man in the world.”
Her face crumpled, and she hugged him convulsively and mumbled into his neck, “I love you, Sebastian Reyne.”
“And I love you, my beloved silken elf.”
“Silken elf?” she queried.
“When I first saw you dancing, I thought you were a silken elf,” he explained. “You are so light and dainty on your feet.”
She gave a delicate yawn and snuggled her head on his chest. “I like it,” she murmured sleepily. “I can be a silken elf or a pagan love goddess.”
“Or a bold hoyden,” he added. “I love every gorgeous aspect of you.” He punctuated each word with a kiss.
She drifted off to sleep in his arms, smiling. The wind howled in the eaves, rain pelted the windowpanes, and Sebastian lay in the high bed of the small inn, feeling happier and more at home than he’d ever felt in his life.
At dawn, she awoke and they made love again before she tiptoed down the passage and returned to her bed.
Late the following afternoon, the line of carriages turned in at a pair of stone-mounted iron gates. Carradice Abbey stood in a parkland of rolling hills. An imposing three-story building, it was somewhat in the classical style, though with the odd baroque feature, and a terrace all around the rooftop.
Sebastian made a note of that rooftop terrace. It might be a nice private place to take Hope. For the view, of course.
A flight of perhaps twenty broad stone steps rose to an imposing entrance flanked by four Grecian columns. As the coaches drew up, a tall, dark-haired gentleman came running lightly down the steps.
“Gideeeonnnn!” came a shriek from the second carriage, and before the carriage had even stopped, young Grace flung open the door and leaped out. She ran pell-mell across the raked gravel driveway and flung herself at him.
He received her flying body on his chest and staggered back, laughing, as she planted kisses on his cheeks. “Greetings, young Limb, I’ve missed you, too.”
Hope squeezed Sebastian’s arm and explained. “That’s my brother-in-law, Lord Carradice—Prudence’s husband. Grace adores him. You would never believe Grace was once a timid, gloomy child, would you?”
Grace hugged Lord Carradice, hanging off his neck, and he hugged her back, saying, “Gently, Limb. Delighted as I am to see you, I have aged since I last saw you last.”
“Oh, pooh!” said Grace.
“Such an elegant expression, Limb—or should I call you Aunt Limb now?”
Grace stopped dead. “Aunt Limb? You mean—?”
Hope and Faith flew up the steps and grabbed Gideon’s arm. “Is it true? The baby is born? And Charity? How is she? What is the baby? Boy or girl? Is it healthy? When was it born? How is Charity?”
Lord Carradice put Grace down, kissed Faith and Hope on both cheeks, and said, “All is well, my dears, I shall answer all your questions, only be calm. Everything is splendid. In any case, here comes Aunt Gussie, who will hurl twice as many questions at me twice as fast. Aunt Gussie!”
To Sebastian’s amazement, Lord Carradice picked up Lady Augusta in a bear hug and twirled her around in a circle as if she were as light as a feather. She shrieked quite as loudly as Grace and slapped and kissed her nephew happily. “Gideon, you dreadful boy, stop that at once! You say Charity is well and the babe delivered safely? What did—”
“Stop!” He held up his hand dramatically. Into the brief, surprised silence he said rapidly, “Charity is perfectly well, though tired. The baby is a girl, born two days ago. She is small, red-faced, and between you and me, a little ugly, but neither Edward nor Charity, nor even my Prudence, can see it, so please do not mention it as they all get unreasonably testy when the subject is raised. Edward is quite besotted, so do not expect any sensible conversation from him at all. The baby is strong and healthy and yells the house down at regular intervals. They’ve called her Aurora—perfectly accurate, too—she is a roarer. Ouch!” He turned and stared in mock indignation at the small, very round lady who had descended the steps unnoticed and biffed him lightly across the head. He added severely, “And what did I say about you going anywhere near any stairs alone?”
She ignored him and came toward the Merridew girls with tears shining in her eyes. The oldest sister, Prudence. All four sisters and Lady Augusta hugged, kissed, and shed a few more tears.
Gideon watched with a proud smile on his face. As he pulled out a handkerchief, he noticed Sebastian. He gave him a measured look, then held out his hand. “How do you do? I am Carradice, by the way.”
Sebastian introduced himself and shook hands. He nodded at Hope, “She’s been very anxious.”
“Yes, they are all very close. My wife misses them, too. Ah, here is Edward, the proud papa!”
A man of medium height came down the steps,
his round face wreathed with smiles. Lady Augusta surged forward, exclaiming, “Edward, my dear boy, congratulations!”
“Thank you, Aunt Gussie! You look wonderful. Gideon’s told you the news, I gather. Isn’t it splendid? Charity is asleep now, but she will be so happy to see you all.”
Edward greeted each person carefully, then turned to where Sebastian and his sisters stood. He held out his hand to Sebastian, but his smile embraced the girls as well. “How do you do? I don’t think we’ve met, have we?”
“Oh heavens! My manners,” Hope exclaimed. She rapidly performed all the introductions.
“Come inside, everyone,” Prudence said. “Tea will be ready in twenty minutes.”
She started toward the steps, when her husband said, “No stairs, remember?” and swept her into his arms. Ignoring her halfhearted protests, he carried her up the steps, then set her on her feet as if she were made of spun glass. Everyone else trooped into the house after them, talking and laughing and hugging.
Dorie and Cassie hung back a little, watching shyly. “They’re a real family, aren’t they?” Cassie said in wonder.
“So are we,” said Sebastian firmly and crooked his elbows. Arm in arm the small Reyne family marched up the steps into Carradice Abbey.
“Hope, love, you look positively radiant.” Prudence and Faith sat on the bed in Hope’s bedchamber, watching her unpack. Hope had just picked up her flannel nightgown. She hugged it to her chest. “Oh, Prue, I’m so happy. Do you like him?”
Prue nodded. “He’s very quiet, but he watches you the same way Edward watches Charity.”
“And the way Gideon watches you, Prue. It’s lovely.” Faith said.
“You must tell Mama and Papa the news,” said Prue. “Gideon brought The Cairn here. We’ll visit it tomorrow.”
“The Cairn? Mama and Papa’s cairn?” It was a pile of loose stones the sisters had built when they were children, newly orphaned and missing their mother and father terribly. Mama and Papa were buried in the warm, sun-kissed earth of Italy. The Cairn was built with the cold stones of Grandpapa’s Northumberland property. They’d told it all their secrets, and for years it was their sole place of comfort.
Prue nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes, knowing none of us would ever want to return to Dereham, my darling husband had every stone brought here. He even found one of Grace’s baby teeth in it and brought that, too.” She stood up. “Now, come along, let us go downstairs. Tea must be ready by now, and I am ravenous.”
They were just finishing tea when a maidservant knocked on the door. “Your Grace, you asked me to tell you when Her Grace woke.”
“Ah.” Edward beamed. “Charity is awake. Come on, everyone, up you come. You will want to see her and our beautiful Aurora.”
Lady Gussie, Hope, Faith, and Grace hurried upstairs at once. Edward looked at Cassie and Dorie. “Would you like to come and see the baby, too? I understand your brother is going to marry Hope, which will make you the baby’s aunts-by-marriage.”
Cassie and Dorie looked wide-eyed at Sebastian for confirmation. He nodded, realizing he should have told them of his marriage plans earlier. It had all been such a rush. He started to explain, but they cut him off.
“Oh, we knew you were going to marry Miss Hope,” Cassie said, “but we didn’t realize that we would get other new relatives. If Hope is our sister-in-law, then would Grace be like a sister?”
“And you mean we are to be aunts? Of a real baby?” gasped Dorie in wonder.
He nodded, a little amused by their priorities.
Edward held out his hands to them. “Then come and see your new baby niece.” With no hesitation, each girl took his hand and excitedly began to climb the stairs.
Another step, Sebastian thought gratefully. His sisters were learning to trust.
Edward paused halfway up and looked back. “You, too, Reyne. We need the whole family with us.”
Sebastian nodded and followed in silence. He couldn’t talk. There was a lump in his throat. It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d get new relatives either. He was part of the whole family.
Charity sat up in bed, a golden, glowing woman. In her arms she held a small bundle. First Hope held Baby Aurora, looking, to Sebastian’s eyes, like the most beautiful of Madonnas. Then Faith took her. Grace cuddled her next, making happy little cooing noises. Lady Augusta took Aurora in her arms with great care. Great Uncle Oswald patted her on the shoulder, peering into the bundle, grinning, and making fatuous avuncular noises. Lady Augusta handed the baby to Gideon five minutes later, saying gruffly that the dratted child had made her eyelash-black run. The whole room watched as Gideon turned instantly to mush, making goo-goo noises and claiming she’d smiled at him. The baby made no objection to any of it.
“Would you like to hold her?”
The duchess had spoken to Dorie. Cassie had hung back, but Dorie had been pressed silently, inconspicuously up against the corner of the bed, watching the bundle avidly.
Dorie blinked and nodded.
The duchess patted the bed beside her. “Come up here with me—Dorie, isn’t it?”
Dorie nodded again and scrambled up on the bed.
Charity smiled. “Grace has written lots of letters to us about you and Cassie. Welcome to the family.” She placed the baby in Dorie’s arms. “Aurora, this is your Aunt Dorie.”
Dorie looked at the baby, then looked at Sebastian. “Aunt Dorie,” she whispered, then bent and kissed the baby carefully.
Sebastian took one look at Dorie’s face and walked to the window. He stared blindly out. His throat was working.
He felt Hope slide into his arms and held her gratefully. The next morning, Prudence invited Sebastian, Hope, and the girls to accompany her to the gamekeeper’s cottage. “Anslow and his wife are expecting us. I expect Mrs. Anslow will have made her famous plum cake.”
“But why?” Hope asked.
Prudence grinned. “It’s a surprise.” She winked at Sebastian.
He nodded. Gideon had told him about the surprise already.
The gamekeeper’s cottage stood on the edge of a leafy coppice, looking out over rolling hills. The front garden was filled with flowers.
Mrs. Anslow answered the door and ushered them proudly into her front room. “I’ll fetch Anslow and tea,” she said.
A tall, grizzled man in leathers joined them a minute later. He was followed by Mrs. Anslow, carrying a tea tray, and behind her came . . .
“May!” Hope exclaimed, blinking in surprise. “It is you, isn’t it?”
The small skinny urchin gave her a huge gap-toothed grin and said excitedly. “Yes, miss, it’s me. I live here now, wiv the Anslows!”
Mrs. Anslow put an arm around her and gave her a hug. “And a dear, sweet child she is.” Little May’s face shone with happiness. She ran over to the tea table and started to set out cups.
“We never did have any of our own, Anslow and me, so when m’lady asked me, well, I thought it wouldn’t do no harm. Anslow wasn’t so sure about taking in an orphan child from London . . .”
The tall man said gruffly. “Aye, but it’s all worked out. She’s a grand little lass, our May. Now, would anyone here be interested in seeing my pups?”
“Pups?” Dorie squeaked. She looked at Sebastian who grinned.
Anslow jerked his head, “In the shed, out back. Come on, May, let’s show the girls.” He led the way, May skipping along beside him, holding his hand with such pride of ownership it brought tears to Hope’s eyes. Dorie and Cassie, not to be outdone, grabbed Sebastian’s hands and followed.
Mrs Anslow said, “That’s surprised you, didn’t it, miss? M’lady fixed it up. She knew I was lonely, with no chick nor child to call my own.”
Hope stared at Prudence. “You arranged it? But how?”
Prudence grinned happily. “You wrote to me, remember, and told me about that poor little child, praying for a doll to love . . . and I thought of the Anslows, praying for a child. Then Aunt Gussie wrote that she was now
on the board of the Institution. So I told her about the Anslows and she sent us May.”
“Aye,” agreed Mrs Anslow. “And we couldn’t be happier.”
Everyone was gathered downstairs, more or less in the crimson saloon. It was a warm evening, and the French windows were open. A soft, scented breeze stirred the curtains.
Cassie and Grace were on the terrace playing with their new pups. Yaps and youthful laughter floated in through the windows in gusts.
Charity had come downstairs with Baby Aurora. She and Edward sat quietly on the sofa, smiling and murmuring. Edward held the sleeping baby in his arms, the very picture of a proud, doting papa.
Dorie sat in an armchair nearby, looking equally doting. She had a small bundle cradled in her arms. Big brown eyes stared up at Dorie’s face, a fat little honey-colored snout poked out of the bundle, then lunged suddenly and licked her nose. Dorie giggled and cuddled her puppy, Honey, tighter.
Sebastian’s chest grew tight with emotion. It was going to be all right. More than all right. It was going to be . . . bloody wonderful.
Prudence and Gideon strolled on the terrace, arm in arm, talking quietly. Lady Augusta and Sir Oswald were playing cards with the twins.
Sebastian looked around the room. He had more than he ever dreamed would be possible, and the thought suddenly frightened him. What if his life slipped out of his control? It had before. Things could go wrong. People could disappear. Families could be dissolved on a whim of fate. Plans could come to naught . . . if they were not carried out immediately.
He marched over to Hope and put his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s get married soon.”
Sir Oswald looked up from his cards. “It cannot be for several months at least. One cannot rush an affair at a fashionable London church like St. George’s.”
“And Hope must buy her bride clothes,” added Lady Augusta.
Hope leaned back against Sebastian, kissed the hand that gripped her shoulder, and gave him a reassuring smile. “When are you christening Aurora?” she asked Charity.
