Amy had been depressed for a while after finding out that, of the five handsome Andersons, and they were all quite exceptional in looks, the one she’d picked was actually the least suitable for her. But then, she hadn’t actually picked him. The feelings that he’d stirred in her were what had done it, telling her without the least doubt that he was the one for her. It wasn’t as if any of the other brothers had made her feel that way, or any other man for that matter, not even tonight, when she’d had the cream of society’s young eligibles clamoring for her notice. And to hear her aunts George and Roslynn reminisce about what they’d felt upon first meeting their husbands, Amy knew what those feelings meant.
There was no help for it, none a’tall. And she was optimistic enough, and certainly confident enough, particularly after her smashing success tonight, to feel that she would have no problems…well, just a few—actually, a great many—but they’d all be overcome as long as she had access to the man, and now she would.
“There, now,” her mother said as she came up behind Amy to take over the brushing of her hair. “You must be exhausted, and no wonder. I believe you danced every dance.”
It would be dawn in another hour, but Amy wasn’t tired. She was still too wound up with excitement to be able to sleep. But Charlotte would stay and chat for hours if she confessed that, so she nodded, wanting a little time to herself before exhaustion did take over.
“Knew she’d be a success,” Agnes huffed over by the wardrobe, her gray head bobbing up and down. “Knew she’d put your older girls to shame, Lotte. It’s a good thing you got them married off before this one come out. Didn’t I tell you so?”
Agnes didn’t boss just Amy around. Charlotte got her fair share also, but never complained or thought to put the servant in her place. Her freckles were faded, she was plump as a cherub, and her fingers weren’t so nimble anymore, but Agnes had been around for so long she was like family now, and that was that.
Amy sighed to herself. It was fine and well to think of replacing Agnes with her very own maid, but she knew she’d never do it, not when it would hurt the old girl’s feelings.
Charlotte was frowning slightly over Agnes’s remarks as she met Amy’s eyes in the mirror. She was still a fine-looking woman at forty-one, her brown hair untouched by gray, her brown eyes bequeathed to all her children except Amy, who, like Anthony, Reggie, and Jeremy, had the black hair and cobalt-blue eyes of an exotic slant that had been passed down by her great-grandmother on the Malory side, who was rumored to have been a Gypsy. Uncle Jason had told her once in confidence that it wasn’t a rumor but was perfectly true. She wasn’t certain whether he’d been teasing her or not.
“I suppose your sisters might have been a little envious tonight,” Charlotte said, “particularly Clare.”
“Clare is too happy with her Walter to remember that it took her two years to find him.” And her finickiness, or patience, as it were, had paid off, since Walter was in line for a very hefty title. “What has she to be envious about when she’s going to be a duchess, Mother?”
Charlotte grinned. “A good point.”
“And although I didn’t get to witness it firsthand—” Amy still resented that they’d made her wait until she was almost eighteen, when Diana had been allowed to come out at only seventeen and a half—“I did hear that Diana had quite as many young men fawning over her as I did. She just happened to fall in love with the first one who came knocking at the door afterward.”
“Perfectly true.” Charlotte sighed. “Which reminds me that we’ll more than likely be bombarded tomorrow, or rather today, with all those young hopefuls you dazzled at the ball. You really must get some sleep, or you won’t last through teatime.”
Amy chuckled. “Oh, I’ll last, Mother. I’m going to enjoy every minute of the courting ritual, right up until the man I want snatches me up.”
“How vulgarly put,” Charlotte clucked. “Snatches you up, indeed. You’re beginning to sound like James’s boy.”
“Well, hell’s bells, d’you think so?”
Her mother laughed. “Now, stop that. And don’t let your father hear you mimicking Jeremy, or he’ll have words with his brother about it, and James Malory does not take well to ridicule, suggestions, or good-natured advice. I swear, to this day I still find it hard to believe that those two are brothers, they’re so dissimilar.”
“Father isn’t like any of his brothers, but I for one like him just the way he is.”
“Of course, you would,” Charlotte retorted, “as indulgent as he is with you.”
“Not always indulgent, or I wouldn’t have had to wait—”
The rest of the words squeezed out of her as Charlotte bent over and hugged her tight. “That was my doing, sweetheart, and don’t begrudge me wanting to hold onto my baby a little while longer. You’ve all grown up so fast. You’re the last, but after tonight’s success, I know you’ll be ‘snatched’ up in no time a’tall by some fine young man. I want that, ’course I do, but not as quickly as it’s bound to happen. I’m afraid I’m going to miss you the most when you leave home to marry. Now get some sleep.”
The abrupt end of her mother’s confession startled Amy, until she realized Charlotte was close to tears, and that was why she hurried out, dragging Agnes with her. Amy sighed, aware of twin feelings of both hopefulness and dread that her mother’s words were prophetic. Charlotte was likely to miss her the most if Amy’s goal was fulfilled, since she would be moving to America, putting a whole ocean between her and her family, to be with the man of her choice. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized that it would have to be that way.
Dratted feelings. Why hadn’t they settled on an Englishman instead?
Chapter 4
“Why Judith?” James asked his brother, referring to the name that had been bestowed on his newest niece. “Why not something melodic like Jacqueline?”
They were both in the nursery, where Anthony could be found more often than not when he was home. Today he had his daughter to himself for a change, since his wife, Roslynn, had gone to visit her friend Lady Frances. Nettie, that harridan of a Scotswoman who had come part and parcel with Roslynn, and who’d arbitrarily taken over the care of little Judith, had vacated the room only upon threat of dire consequences. Anthony had to be a bit heavy-handed in his household at times, or the women in it would walk all over him. James was inclined to think that Roslynn did so anyway.
“Give over,” was Anthony’s response to James’s question. “So you can be your perverse self and call her Jack? Why don’t you name yours Jacqueline when she comes along, and then I’ll call her Jack?”
“In that case, I’d simply name her Jack to begin with, so there’d be no room for change.”
Anthony snorted. “Don’t think George would appreciate that.”
James sighed, giving up the idea before it took root. “Don’t suppose she would.”
“Or her brothers,” Anthony added to be ornery.
“In that case—”
“You would, wouldn’t you?”
“Anything to annoy those boorish louts,” James replied with absolute sincerity.
Anthony laughed, which startled Judith, curled in the crook of his arm. She didn’t cry, merely waved her hands excitedly. Her father caught one to bring the tiny fingers to his lips, before he glanced up at James again.
They were as different as night and day, these two brothers. Anthony was a bit taller and a lot slimmer, with black hair and blue eyes, while James, like his other two brothers, was big, blond, and with eyes a mellow shade of green. Judith, now, had taken after both of her parents. She was going to have her mother’s glorious red-gold hair, but her eyes were already the deep cobalt blue of her father’s.
“How long d’you think the Yanks will stay this time?” Anthony asked.
“Too long,” was James’s irritable reply.
“No more than a couple of weeks, surely.”
“One can hope.”
Anthony might rib Jam
es now about the impending visit of the unwelcome in-laws—there’d be something wrong with him if he didn’t, since both brothers loved nothing more than to bait each other unmercifully—but against a common foe, he’d be standing there right beside his brother. But the Yanks hadn’t arrived yet…
Anthony was still grinning when he casually speculated, “I suppose they’ll want to stay with you, now you’ve got your own place.”
“Bite your tongue. It’s bad enough I have to let them in the door. I’d bloody well crack some skulls if I had to see them on a daily basis. Wouldn’t be able to help myself.”
“Oh, come now, they weren’t all that bad. There were a couple of them I got along with splendidly, and you did as well, if you’d fess up to it. And Jason took to Clinton right off. Jeremy and Derek also had a rousing good time with the younger two.”
James arched a brow that promised mayhem if Anthony didn’t soon drop the subject. “Did anyone get along with Warren?”
“Can’t say that we did.”
“Nor will we ever.”
That should have ended the topic, but Anthony wasn’t prone to taking subtle warnings. “They did exactly as you wanted, old man, married you to their little sister—insisted upon it. So when are you going to forgive them for that thrashing they gave you?”
“The thrashing was expected. But Warren crossed the line when he involved my crew, and would have hung the lot of us if he’d had his way.”
“Standard reaction when confronted with dastardly pirates,” Anthony replied offhandedly.
James took a step toward his needling brother before he recalled the baby in Anthony’s arms. Anthony’s grin got wider at James’s look of chagrin, his clear realization that any clobbering he’d had a mind to do would have to wait. And Anthony still wasn’t done.
“The way I heard it,” he said, “you’ve got the two younger brothers and George to thank that Warren didn’t have his way.”
“Beside the point…and we’re overdue for a visit to Knighton’s Hall, you and I,” James added with meaning. “We could both use the exercise.”
Anthony gave a hoot of laughter. “When you’ve a bone to pick? Don’t think so. I’ll stick to the sparring partners Knighton supplies me, thank you.”
“But they’re no challenge a’tall, dear boy.”
“Just the same, the wife likes my face the way it is. She wouldn’t appreciate you altering the location of my nose with those hammers you liken to fists. And besides, I wouldn’t want you to get rid of all that hostility before the Yanks arrived. I’m looking forward to the fireworks, indeed I am.”
“You won’t be welcome,” James said disagreeably.
“George will let me in,” Anthony replied confidently. “She likes me.”
“She tolerates you because you’re my brother.”
Anthony quirked a brow at that point. “And you won’t return the favor where her brothers are concerned?”
“Already have. They’re still living, aren’t they?”
When James returned home later that day, he was surprised to have the door opened by Amy. He hadn’t seen her since her first ball last week—the only one he’d been expected to attend, thank God—but Georgina had mentioned that Amy had visited her only a few days ago. And since he hadn’t knocked, she’d obviously been waiting for him, a circumstance unusual enough to set off alarms in his head.
But because he wasn’t a man who overreacted or jumped to conclusions, he simply asked, “Where’s Henri? Or has Artie got the duty today? Didn’t notice when I left.”
Henri and Artie had been members of his crew during his pirating days. But those two had been with him for such a long time, they were more like family, and when he’d decided to sell the Maiden Anne, they’d elected to hire into his household instead of shipping out on an unfamiliar ship. Two more unlikely butlers you couldn’t imagine, yet they shared the job and got a kick out of shocking any unsuspecting visitors with their coarse ways.
“It’s Artie’s turn today,” Amy answered as she shut the door behind him. “But he’s gone for the doctor.” She saw his back stiffen for a moment before he started running toward the stairs, so she quickly called after him, “She’s in the parlor.”
He stopped abruptly. “The parlor?”
“Having tea,” she added.
“Having tea!” he exploded as he did an about-face and headed in that direction, stopping at the door when he spotted his wife inside. “Blister it, George, what the bloody hell d’you think you’re doing? You ought to be in bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed, and I’m having tea,” Amy heard Georgina answer with commendable calm.
That answer brought James up short again, however. “Then you’re not having the baby?”
“Yes, I am, but I’m having tea, too. Would you like to join me?”
James was silent for a moment, digesting that. “Blister it, George, you’re not doing this thing properly.” And then he entered the parlor. “You’re going to bed.”
“Devil take it, James, put me down,” Amy heard next. “I’ll be in that bed soon enough, and yelling my head off. You’ll get your proper, but not until I’m ready. Now put me—”
There was an abrupt silence. Amy, hesitant about intruding since she’d never seen her uncle James react this way, got up the nerve to move to the doorway. She was in time to see Georgina having another contraction and her husband quite undone by it. He’d sat down, though he hadn’t released Georgina, was still holding her tight, and he was as pale as the ivory damask sofa he sat on.
“When did your pains start?” he got out when she was breathing normally again.
“This morning—”
“This morning!”
“If you’re going to ask why I didn’t mention it before you left, just listen to yourself and you’ll have your answer. Now do put me down, James, so I can finish my tea. Amy’s just poured it.”
“Amy!” he bellowed in a new direction. “What the devil do you think you’re doing, serving my wife—”
“Don’t you dare take out your anxiety on Amy.” Georgina blasted him with a punch to his shoulder. “I wanted to clean house, if you must know, but she convinced me to have tea instead. If you’re not going to join us, have a drink, but do stop yelling at us.”
James released her long enough to run a hand through his hair. Georgina took advantage of his lapse to scoot off his lap and reach for her tea, as if it were any day other than the one on which she was having a baby.
After a moment he said, to no one in particular, “I’m sorry. I didn’t have to go through this with Jeremy. I think I’d rather have them pop up half grown and tell me I’ve sired them after the fact. I bloody well know I prefer it that way.”
Amy took pity on him to explain. “Much as I’d like to be with her through it all, I know someone will raise hell about it afterward—my innocence, you know—so I’ve sent for my mother and Aunt Roslynn, and Reggie, too. Between them, they’ll make sure she does whatever she’s supposed to do.”
Georgina relented enough to add, “This really is the easy part, James. In fact, I would suggest you have that drink and get foxed before the hard part starts—or make yourself scarce. I will quite understand if you prefer to wait it out at your club.”
“I’m sure you would. I’m sure I would, too, but I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Amy had guessed he would say that. Georgina must have, too, because she smiled and leaned over to kiss him. And then another knock came at the door.
“That will be the troops starting to arrive,” Amy said.
“Hah!” James said with some relief. “Charlotte will get you in that bed, George, see if she don’t.”
“Charlotte has had two sons and three daughters of her own, James, so she’ll understand my sentiments perfectly—and if you don’t stop harping on that bed, I’ll have this baby right here in the parlor, see if I don’t.”
Amy left the room with a grin on her lips. Uncle James had
taken the entire pregnancy in stride, according to Georgina, so who would have thought he’d come undone at the end? She should have sent for Anthony as well, though he was likely to come with Roslynn anyway. But he’d taken some serious ribbing from James on the day of Judith’s birth, when Anthony had sat more or less in a daze until it was over. He ought to be here to see how well his brother was holding up under the same circumstances.
But when she opened the door, it was none of her family on the stoop. It was all five of Georgina’s brothers, and wouldn’t you know it, Amy got tongue-tied again.
Chapter 5
“Well, hello there.” It was Drew Anderson who’d done the original knocking, and so he was the one who stood directly in front of Amy now, giving her a quite dazzling smile. “Amy, wasn’t it? No, wait, it was Lady Amy, since your father’s an earl or some such. Derek said the old king bestowed the title on him years ago for some service he’d done him. Am I remembering that correctly?”
Amy was amazed that he remembered her at all and merely blurted out, “Financial advice. My father has the golden touch when it comes to money.” Amy suspected that she’d inherited that same ability from her father, which was why she never wagered with family and friends, because with her instincts, she rarely lost.
“We should all be so lucky,” Drew continued, and as his black eyes moved slowly down her frame and then back again, he added with some delight, “But look at you, all grown up this time and pretty as a picture.”
The Magic of You Page 3
