Analise blinked. “Betting books?” she repeated in surprise.
Luke shook his head. “Happens with every babe born in the ton. Bets are placed on if it will be a boy or a girl.”
“And how did you bet?” she asked with an arched brow.
Taken aback by the question, he said, “Why, a boy, of course!” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small box. “This is for you.”
Her eyes widened. “What is it?” she asked.
He lifted the lid and showed her a pair of amethyst earrings.
“Luke! They’ll go perfect with my mother’s necklace and bracelet,” she breathed. Her father had given her the amethyst necklace the day he announced he would be marrying Charity. The day after Luke had proposed to her.
“I hope so. That was the plan, anyway. Perhaps you can wear them to the next ball we go to,” he suggested.
“I will,” she agreed, thinking of one of the ballgowns Madame Suzanne had created for her as part of her wedding clothes. The purple stones would look stunning with the green and purple satin gown. She took a deep breath. “How did you know I was going to give you an heir?”
Luke allowed a shrug. “I didn’t know for sure. But you were carrying high, and my aunt always had boys when she was carrying high,” he said as he held the flat of his hand up against his chest.
Analise blinked at hearing this. He hadn’t said a thing to her about how high she was carrying the newborn. “Did my stepmother have a girl?” she asked then, moving her son to her other breast.
“She did,” Luke replied with a nod. “Ugly little thing. All wrinkly and red.”
“Luke!” she scolded. “What a horrible thing to say about my one and only sister!” But she grinned as she held her boy.
“I apologize,” he replied in a quiet voice. “I’m a bit bitter about that one.”
Analise furrowed a brow. “But, why? Father and Charity both wanted a girl.”
Luke sighed. “Yes, but I bet your father she would have a boy.”
Her mouth dropping open in disbelief at this bit of news, Analise gave a very unladylike snort. “Serves you right,” she replied.
“Does, doesn’t it?” he replied with a grin. Then a bit of mischief had his eyes twinkling. “There’s always next time.”
“She’s beautiful,” Marcus said as he stared down at the sleeping babe he held. The fingers of one of her hands had gripped his index finger, their tiny fingernails white against his tanned fingers. “You’re beautiful,” he added before leaning down to kiss his wife.
“I must look like a drowned rat,” Charity replied, her eyelids heavy. Despite having given birth to two boys in the past, she had done it so long ago, she had forgotten what it was like.
Deliberately, she sorted.
“Not at all,” he countered, his voice sounding as if he were scolding her. He sat on the edge of the bed, heartened to see his new daughter opening her eyes. “Are you well?” he asked as he used his free hand to take one of Charity’s hands to his lips. He kissed the back of it but didn’t let go.
Charity nodded, deciding she shouldn’t be surprised at how attentive he was just then. He had stayed home every night for the past few weeks, determined to remain at her side in the event she went into labor. “I am well. Just tired,” she assured him. “Now that you’ve had a chance to hold her, do you still like the name we chose for a girl?”
Marcus stared at the infant for a moment, mesmerized by her tiny hands and nose, the curly lashes and rosebud lips. He was reminded of how Analise looked when she was first born. “Hope,” he murmured as he stared at his newest daughter. “It certainly fits the situation. Were you having second thoughts?”
Angling here head in a pillow, Charity said, “Perhaps we should name her Faith,” she suggested.
“For your sister?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Because you had so much of it.” Although Marcus had been assuring Charity all along she would give birth to a girl—he had promised her he would give her a daughter—Charity had secretly expected to deliver another boy.
“Faith Hope Batey,” he said as he regarded the sleeping baby. “Agreed. Now what do you suppose they’re going to name her nephew?”
But Charity’s eyes were closed, sleep having taken her for a moment. Alone with his daughter, Marcus was about to ask her some questions, but she, too, nodded off.
“Well,” he murmured, settling himself into the room’s only chair. “Let’s see what my imagination can come up with,” he said to no one in particular.
Afterword
Thank you for taking the time to read The Charity of a Viscount. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend.
Thank you,
Linda Rae Sande
Also by Linda Rae Sande
The Daughters of the Aristocracy
The Kiss of a Viscount
The Grace of a Duke
The Seduction of an Earl
The Sons of the Aristocracy
Tuesday Nights
The Widowed Countess
My Fair Groom
The Sisters of the Aristocracy
The Story of a Baron
The Passion of a Marquess
The Desire of a Lady
The Brothers of the Aristocracy
The Love of a Rake
The Caress of a Commander
The Epiphany of an Explorer
The Widows of the Aristocracy
The Gossip of an Earl
The Enigma of a Widow
The Secrets of a Viscount
The Widowers of the Aristocracy
The Dream of a Duchess
The Vision of a Viscountess
The Conundrum of a Clerk
The Cousins of the Aristocracy
The Promise of a Gentleman
The Pride of a Gentleman
The Holidays of the Aristocracy
The Christmas of a Countess
Stella of Akrotiri
Deminon
Origins
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). Mythology, immortality, and ancient Greece have been lifelong interests.
A fan of action-adventure movies, she can frequently be found at the local cinema. Although she no longer has any tropical fish, she does follow the San Jose Sharks. She makes her home in Cody, Wyoming.
For more information:
www.lindaraesande.com
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The Charity of a Viscount Page 26
