Caro covered her eyes again for another round of peekaboo, and got the same laughing response. Georgie was fickle, however, and he moved along the sofa to John. Leaning with his chest against John’s knee, he gazed up at John with frank curiosity.
“Oh, dear. Don’t let him make a nuisance of himself, Lord Welford.” Anne looked toward their nurse. “Patsy?” she said in an apparent plea to the nurse to retrieve the little boy.
“He’s no trouble at all,” John said, and to Caro’s surprise he picked up the baby.
Caro was sure John would quickly hand Georgie off to his nurse—nothing could possibly pose a greater threat to her husband’s faultlessly pressed appearance than a determined infant of less than twelve months—but instead he grinned and set the baby on his knee. “Is it all right to play horse with him, Mrs. Edge?”
To play horse with him? Caro was sure she must have heard wrong.
Anne smiled. “He would love that.”
Steadying the boy with both hands, John dandled Georgie on his knee. And as if that weren’t surprising enough, he began reciting a nursery rhyme as he bounced the baby up and down. “Ride a cockhorse to Banbury Cross, to buy little Georgie a galloping horse.” Here John kept the ride lively but steady, as Caro stared and the little boy laughed delightedly. “It trots behind and it ambles before—” John made the pace increasingly uneven “—and Georgie shall ride till he can ride no more.”
On no more, John pitched his leg to one side, dumping the little boy off, though of course he was careful to ensure that the baby swooped harmlessly toward the rug, squealing with delight, before John set him gently on his feet again.
Ronnie laughed along with the other adults. “Where did you learn that?”
Caro had been wondering the same thing.
“I can remember when you were this age,” John answered. “Only then it was Ronnie who was to buy the galloping horse and who took the spill. Before I left for school, you made me do that with you at least a hundred times.”
Georgie seemed to have the same idea, for he raised his arms for John to pick him up a second time. And not only that, but little Mary was squirming and fussing in her mother’s lap in an obvious bid to climb down and demand a ride of her own.
“Truly, Lord Welford,” Anne said when John lifted Georgie again and put him back on his knee, “you don’t have to humor him.”
“Just a little more,” John said as if he were begging a favor rather than bestowing one, “and a ride for Mary too, if you’ll permit it.”
Aunt Ella was clearly pleased at the sight of her grandchildren being entertained. “Now, how can you refuse such a civil request?” she said brightly to Anne.
“Do you see what I mean?” Sophia whispered to Caro. “Visiting Anne is nothing but a lot of mooning over her babies.”
But Caro was enjoying Georgie’s obvious delight as John gave him his second ride, as well as the novel sight of her normally dignified husband playing horse with an infant. Meanwhile Anne had put Mary down, and the little girl toddled quickly in John’s direction, arriving just as Georgie’s turn reached its laughing crescendo.
“Make way for your sister now, Master Georgie.” Smiling, John set the boy on his feet and picked up little Mary. He settled her on his knee sidesaddle rather than astride, and changed the rhyme, as well. “Mother and Father and Uncle John went to the market one by one. Mother fell off—” John tipped Mary to one side, and she gave the most delicious gurgle of laughter “—and Father fell off—” he tipped her in the other direction “—but Uncle John went on and on and on and on.”
After that the twins clamored for more of John’s attention, clutching and tugging at his coat with both hands, until Anne had no choice but to step in. “I can’t prevail on your good nature any longer, Lord Welford,” she said, laughing. “Patsy, you really must take them away, at least until after we’ve had our tea.”
Caro could scarcely hide her astonishment, not just that John was willing to play with two small children, but that he’d genuinely seemed to enjoy it, grinning in a most uncharacteristic way as he’d lifted them over his head and allowed them to climb over him. Was the sight really a product of his good nature—Caro had trouble even thinking the words John and good nature in the same sentence—or merely part of the acting he’d agreed to do? She was inclined to suspect the latter, but if he’d really given his brother such rides when Ronnie was small...
With the twins returned to the nursery, Caro was soon gossiping with Anne, comparing notes on the years that had passed.
“Isn’t it lovely, being married?” Anne said. “Mr. Edge and I finish each other’s sentences sometimes.”
Caro darted a glance at John. “Welford never finishes my sentences, mostly because the poor man never knows what ridiculous thing is going to come out of my mouth next.”
That surprised a laugh from John. “Very true,” he agreed, though at least he said it in the amused tone of a fond husband.
Caro let her cousin do most of the talking, not just because it kept her from having to invent too many details about Vienna, but also because she was genuinely interested in Anne’s life. Anne was obviously more than content with her husband and her children. She was glowingly happy.
She was telling Caro about her brother-in-law the squire—”He lives in Strelley Hall, on the other side of the church, and it’s haunted”—when footsteps announced a new arrival.
“Ah, here’s my husband now,” Anne said, her face lighting up.
Caro turned to the door, expecting a strapping young Adonis to appear. Surely only a paragon of all the manly virtues could leave Anne looking so pleased with life in the Strelley parsonage.
Mr. Edge wasn’t at all what Caro expected. He was pleasant enough in appearance—Caro liked his kind, genial face, and his love for Anne was evident in the adoring way he looked at her—but he was of only average height and build, and at least a decade older than she’d imagined him. Certainly he was older than John. There were crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes, and even a touch of gray at his temples.
How strange. No one—not Anne, not Aunt Ella, not even disgruntled Sophia—had even thought to mention that Anne had married an older man. He was far from ancient, of course, but still...
Mr. Edge looked rather bemused to find his drawing room full of his wife’s family, more than half of whom he’d never met before. Though he joined them readily enough, he remained quiet through most of their conversation—at least, until John asked him about All Saints.
“The architectural style of your church is most interesting, Mr. Edge. Is it fourteenth century?”
“Much of it.” There was a note of pride in Mr. Edge’s voice. “The tower is even older. Twelfth century.”
“At that age, I suppose it must contain some interesting monuments.”
A spark of enthusiasm kindled in Mr. Edge’s kind gray eyes. “Indeed it does. The effigies of a knight and his lady are particularly fine examples of medieval armor and costuming.”
“And rather a touching sight too,” Anne added. “They’re holding hands.”
“Would you like to see them?” Mr. Edge asked John. “I’d be happy to show you the church interior.”
Caro had grown up touring country churches, dutifully taking pains to affect polite interest and to say ooh and ah at the expected times, and the experience had left her doubting John could have any great desire to view Mr. Edge’s quiet little sanctuary. But apparently her husband was a diplomat in more than name only, for he smiled with every appearance of pleasure and said, “I should like that very much, if the ladies would be good enough to excuse us.”
“As if I could hold Mr. Edge back when someone wishes to view his church!” Anne said, laughing. “Do go ahead, gentlemen, with my blessing.”
“Are you coming, Ronnie?” John asked.
&
nbsp; “Yes, of course.” Ronnie jumped up, clearly gratified he’d been asked to join the older men.
They’d no sooner taken their leave than Anne turned to Caro with a look of approval. “Caro, where did you find him? What a prize!”
“Welford?” Caro said in confusion. “He was one of Papa’s protégés. You know my father—he’s never forgotten his old school ties, and likes to encourage promising young Wykehamists and Oxonians. They’ve known each other since Welford’s public school days.”
“Well, my dear, I applaud your father’s eye! Lord Welford is both handsome and amiable, and that’s a rare combination.”
“It’s not as if Papa picked him out for me,” Caro said, laughing. It was true enough—proposing marriage had been John’s idea. Still, she had always grouped him in much the same category as the many worthy, unexciting gentlemen her matchmaking friends and family had recommended as suitors her father might approve.
Not that Anne had ever tried to push such dull, plodding candidates on her. Anne had always been Caro’s confidante, the one girlhood companion who’d shared her love for dashing young gentlemen with naughty twinkles in their eyes. More than once they’d laughed together about self-righteous Mr. Ball’s determination to convert the natives of the Amazon, and stodgy Mr. Thayer’s disapproval of young ladies who allowed themselves to be driven about in open carriages. So how had Anne ended up married to a soft-spoken clergyman, and heaping praise on Welford? More than that, how did she seem so happy?
It was a mystery, one Caro pondered all the way back to Stanling Priory.
* * *
“Really, Papa, should you be eating such a hearty meal?” Caro asked during dinner that night, eyeing her father’s plate with a worried frown.
“Why ever not?”
“Well...your heart. Shouldn’t you be eating something easier to digest? Some broth or some milk toast, perhaps?”
“Caro, my love, I trust Welford didn’t bring you all this way so you could talk about my digestion.”
“And at the dinner table, no less,” her uncle said with a wink.
Caro turned to him in appeal. “Uncle Geoffrey, what do you think? It’s no use trying to make Papa worry on his own account, but your letter made matters sound most serious. Did you speak to his doctor at all?”
“You must leave me out of this, Caro, my dear,” her uncle said. “A doctor’s counsel is a man’s private business. Besides, I’ve never had the least bit of control over your father, for all that he’s my younger brother.”
“But your letter frightened me half out of my wits.”
“Forgive me if I alarmed you. I knew you would want to see your father, but at the time I wrote that letter, I wasn’t sure when or even if it would reach you. I’d heard you were back in England, but I wasn’t sure whether you were in London or in the country.”
“How did you hear I was back in England?” Caro asked, and then wondered if she should have said we were back.
“It was in your father’s Gazette. ‘Lord Welford, late First Attaché to His Majesty’s Embassy at Vienna, has returned to England after an absence of five years.’ But it didn’t say whether Lord Welford had returned to his country seat or to his house in North Audley Street.”
Her father laughed. “Yes, a most unsatisfactory notice. It didn’t mention you at all, Caro.”
Caro smiled and schooled herself not to throw a guilty glance in John’s direction. “We were in Town,” she said, since she had a vague memory of telling her father they’d begun their journey in London. Recalling that she’d received her uncle’s letter at Halewick, she had to add, “Welford’s steward sent Uncle Geoffrey’s letter on to us.”
“And were you planning to remain in London until the start of the Season?” her aunt asked.
“We hadn’t quite decided yet—though Halewick is certainly lovely enough.”
“I confess I’ve always thought of Halewick as home, and the town house as merely temporary lodgings,” John said.
Caro was surprised at the wistful note in his voice. If John thought of Halewick as home, then why hadn’t he come there upon his return to England? Did her banishment to Halewick amount to a banishment from the house for John? “It’s certainly a beautiful old house. It would be a fine place to raise a child, when we’re fortunate enough to welcome a baby of our own.”
Now why had she said when, not if? John’s brows came together in a thoughtful look, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He was wondering about the hunting box, and the encounter they’d had there. He gave her a small, private, rather uncertain smile, and she smiled back.
Of course John must know as well as she did that it was too soon to tell whether she was already increasing, but what if she was? It felt strange and a little exhilarating to realize it could be possible.
Sophia glanced at John. “It’s odd how some couples have more children than they can handle, and others have no children at all, isn’t it?”
“Not so very odd,” her mother said. “In any case, it’s not the kind of thing an unmarried girl ought to remark upon.”
“Caro brought it up.”
“Caro is married.”
Sophia darted a resentful look in Caro’s direction, and Caro had the disquieting feeling that it was going to be very difficult indeed to remain in her cousin’s good graces.
Chapter Fourteen
Actions are visible, though motives are secret.
—Samuel Johnson
That night, in the bedroom she shared with John, Caro paused with her hand on the bellpull. “Shall I ring for Sophia’s abigail?”
John shrugged. “I don’t mind helping you undress, if my assistance will do.”
“I would appreciate it.” She wasn’t sure why she didn’t mind his helping her now when four nights before she’d considered sleeping in her gown rather than disrobe with him in the same room, but then again, what was the point in affecting modesty after what they’d done in the hunting box? She went to stand in front of him so he could unfasten her buttons and unlace her stays.
As soon as he finished, he politely turned his back.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you might as well look,” Caro said, realizing how ridiculous the arrangement was. “I doubt the sight of me in my chemise is really going to inflame your passions.”
He turned to face her again, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “I’ll strive mightily to control myself if it does.” The remark was his usual brand of sarcasm, but he’d no sooner said it than he looked suddenly self-conscious. “Caro, what you said tonight, about having a baby...”
“Yes?”
“What if it turns out you’re increasing? It’s possible, you know. That night in the hunting box, when I—”
“Yes, I understand how it works.”
“Would you be sorry?”
She’d never seen him wear a look of such anxious concern before—no, that wasn’t true. On the morning he proposed, as he’d waited for her answer he’d searched her face with the same keen air of expectancy.
“Sorry? Of course not. What a question.” Then she realized perhaps it meant he would be, however indulgent he’d been with Anne’s twins. “What about you?”
He shook his head with every appearance of certainty. “I’d like to be a father.”
“Oh. Good.”
“But it would complicate matters.” One side of his mouth twisted in a wry curve. “Boy or girl, I’d want to be involved in my child’s life.”
She tensed. “I suppose now you’re going to remind me that the children of a marriage are the legal property of the husband, and that you could take my child from me if I should displease you in some fashion.”
His jaw went slack with shock. “God, no. What do you take me for? Children need a mother, and the child woul
d be yours every bit as much as mine.”
Instantly she regretted having accused him with no justification. It was just that she was so used to his doing his utmost to punish her...But she should never have spoken out of fear and insecurity, especially when he’d been on his best behavior all day. “Then what did you mean, ‘it would complicate matters’?”
“Only that I have no intention of being an absentee father. If you were to have a child, I’d be at Halewick a good deal more than I have been, not merely between diplomatic postings but also during trips home. You’d have to get used to seeing more of me.” He stripped off his trousers.
“Halewick is your house.”
“Yes, but you’ve had it to yourself for five years now. Perhaps you’d feel crowded if I were there. And we’d be expected to spend at least some time in each other’s company, for example if we were to entertain guests. We couldn’t keep our distance from each other in quite the same way.”
Only a few days before, she’d believed maintaining a healthy distance was best for both of them. Now she wasn’t so sure.
They were both silent as they got into bed, Caro keeping carefully to her half. She lay on her side, facing John so there was no question of their spooning together, but he sat up, his back against the headboard.
He looked over at her. “You would want separate bedrooms, I assume?” Dark eyes searched her face.
“Wouldn’t you?”
He hesitated. “It’s probably a moot point. The odds are there’s no baby on the way. It was only the one time.”
“That’s true. Though the odds would go up if it were to happen again.”
“Well, yes.” He reflected a moment. “Do you think that’s likely?”
“Not tonight,” she said with an uneasy laugh, in case she was giving him the wrong idea.
“I didn’t mean tonight.”
She sighed. “I don’t know, Welford. Do I have to decide that now?”
The Marriage Act Page 16
