“The men will be hungry?” Dorothea questioned.

“Well, if pressed I suppose I might be tempted to nibble on a sandwich or two,” Gwendolyn replied innocently.

“Only two?”

“Yes, yes, I know I look as though I have done nothing but stuff my face morning, noon, and night for the past few months, but there is a reason for my exceptionally large belly.” Gwendolyn bit her bottom lip. “I have not said a word about this to Jason, but the physician thinks I might be carrying twins.”

Dorothea managed to stifle her gasp of alarm, but was not as quick to conceal her expression of shock.

“Good Lord, Dorothea, must you look so terrified? I’m frightened enough at the notion of birthing two babies without having you scare me to pieces.” Gwendolyn inhaled a deep breath, then slowly released it. “My husband is a twin, therefore it was certainly within the realm of possibilities that I too would be so blessed.”

Dorothea blanched. Was it a blessing? Childbirth was dangerous business for a woman under the best of circumstances. Birthing twins would be a far greater risk for Gwendolyn and the unborn babes.

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of the gentlemen. Gwendolyn glared at her and Dorothea silently acknowledged the request. She would keep her sister’s counsel and not reveal what she had been told to her brother-in-law. In truth, he could do nothing to alter the situation and if it kept Gwendolyn’s nerves steadier having her husband in the dark for the time being, then so be it.

The presence of the two men seemed to dwarf the small, feminine room. Dorothea stared at the pair, unable to stop herself from making a comparison. They were both of a similar age and physical stature. Jason was fair in coloring, Atwood dark. Lord Atwood was slightly taller, while Jason was broader in the shoulders. Each man was appealing in his own way, though Dorothea thought Lord Atwood by far the more handsome of the duo.

He came to her side, unexpectedly grasped her hand firmly in his own, and brought it to his lips. Dorothea felt her body heat and her skin flush with color. Embarrassed, she glanced over to see if her sister or brother-in-law had noticed, but they were too preoccupied with each other to pay attention to much else.

“Jason, cease hovering,” Gwendolyn exclaimed in a strong whisper as her husband attempted to place another pillow behind her back. “Please.”

“Of course, my love,” he answered in a soothing tone. “Shall I ask Dorothea to pour our tea?”

“I am perfectly capable of lifting a teapot,” Gwendolyn grumbled in a petulant tone.

“I know, I only thought it might be easier if Dorothea did the honors.”

“Well, I would prefer to act as the hostess in my own home. I don’t know why you think that I would want to willingly shirk my duties when-”

Gwendolyn abruptly halted her tirade and stared at Lord Atwood, as though suddenly remembering his presence in the room.

“Please, there is no need for you to go to any additional fuss on my account,” he said congenially. “The last thing I would want is for our visit to place an added strain on you, Mrs. Barrington.”

“It hasn’t.” Gwendolyn’s eyes welled with tears. “I would never forgive Dorothea if she married someone before I had met him. I wanted so much to be with her during the Season, but my pregnancy prevented it. I had hoped I would be able to attend a few quiet affairs early in the social calendar, before my predicament became too noticeable. But it seemed as though my stomach popped out within a month of discovering I was with child and my belly has not ceased expanding.”

Gwendolyn lowered her head into her open palms and sighed heavily. “And now I have mentioned my condition openly in mixed company. How impossibly rude. Pray, forgive me, my lord.”

Carter’s face contorted with kindness. “I do not mean to cause you greater distress, Mrs. Barrington, but anyone with two functioning eyes is aware of your condition.”

Gwen let out a small laugh, but then her face crumpled. “I must look a fright,” she sniffed. “Bloated like a great cow, waddling about like a fat Christmas goose.”

“You are as beautiful as ever,” Jason cooed gently. “Even more so with our child growing inside you.”

“Oh, shut up, Jason,” Gwendolyn snapped, giving her husband a murderous look. “I’m not a simpleton. I can see my reflection in a mirror.”

“Yes, and it makes you more womanly, more enchanting,” Jason insisted.

“It most certainly does not,” Gwendolyn barked. “Does it, Dorothea?”

Dorothea wanted to sink through the floor. Her desire to make a favorable impression on Lord Atwood was going severely awry. Was it possible that they were now all openly discussing Gwendolyn’s pregnancy? How mortifyingly inappropriate.

Gwendolyn had always been the steady one, the one she could count upon to hold everything together. For years Gwendolyn had been ostracized by the social community of their Yorkshire village and she had borne the unfair censure with grace and dignity.

That, apparently, was no longer the case. Carrying a child, or God help them all, perhaps two, made her sister irrational, and weepy and weak. Dorothea shuddered. If Gwendolyn could not be counted upon to retain her good sense and equilibrium while pregnant, what chance would Dorothea have if she ever carried a child?

“You look lovely, Gwen,” Dorothea replied. “Entrancing in an entirely different way.”

They all seemed to hold their breaths as they collectively waited for Gwendolyn’s reaction to her sister’s remark.

“I vow I am not such a disagreeable harpy under normal circumstances, Lord Atwood,” Gwendolyn said wistfully.

Carter smiled kindly. “How very disappointing. I was hoping this marriage would bring me some lively, entertaining relations. Alas, my own are rather, staid, proper, and on occasion deadly boring.”

For a moment Gwendolyn looked as if she would burst into tears, then she started laughing. “Thank you, my lord. For treating me like a person and not a porcelain doll that would break if you came too near.”

“If I may be so indelicate, a woman in your condition should be allowed to do and say anything that she wishes.”

“Do you hear that, Jason?”

“Yes, I did, my love. Sound advice that I fully intend upon taking.”

Dorothea stole a glimpse of her sister as Gwendolyn poured the tea. She offered Lord Atwood the first cup, then poured a second for Dorothea. As she drank her hot tea, the sour feeling in the pit of Dorothea’s stomach slowly eased. Carter went out of his way to be charming and amusing, treading carefully around Gwendolyn’s unpredictable emotions. By the time they took their leave, Gwen was smiling and giggling.

Jason walked them out to the carriage. Carter tactfully pulled ahead to check on the horses, allowing her a moment of privacy.

“Atwood seems like a fine man, Dorothea,” Jason said. “You’ve done well.”

“So everyone keeps saying.” She tugged on the bonnet ribbon tied under her chin, making certain it was secure for the open carriage ride back to London. “It’s all happening so quickly, I feel that I’ve had no time to think.”

Jason laughed. “Trust me, that’s the best way to approach marriage. Let your feelings and emotions guide you. Love is never wrong.”

Dorothea lowered her head. Oh, dear, Jason had misinterpreted things completely. Feeling too embarrassed to correct the mistaken notion that she and Lord Atwood were in love, Dorothea hugged her brother-in-law good-bye.

“Take good care of Gwen and my future niece or nephew,” she admonished.

“I shall endeavor to do my best, no matter how ill-tempered she becomes.”

Dorothea spied Gwendolyn standing at the window and she waved until the carriage brought them down the drive and well out of sight of the house. Only then did she glance up at Carter.

He had his eyes firmly on the road, his hands tightly gripping the reins. She settled herself more comfortably beside him, enjoying the stillness, not at all minding the silence. It was a good silence, a comfortable quiet.

All things being equal, the visit had gone well. Carter had not been overly shocked at the unusual situation, although it might just be good manners that prevented him from being too critical.

But more importantly, Gwendolyn and Jason had liked Lord Atwood and approved of the match. Jason had even gone so far as to say he believed she had made a good choice.

They made a sharp turn and Carter’s left hand instinctively reached out to ensure she was safely seated. Dorothea smiled her thanks and her heart lightened. She fervently hoped that Jason was right.

Chapter Nine

The announcement of the impending marriage of Miss Dorothea Ellingham to Carter Grayson, Marquess of Atwood, appeared in The Times the morning the Duke of Hansborough returned to London. To say he was angry when he read the paper was an understatement of mythic proportions. The dishes in the kitchen rattled, the horses stabled in the mews reared, and a flustered upstairs maid dropped a priceless antique vase as the duke repeatedly bellowed his outrage.

In his more optimistic moments Carter had told himself the duke’s anger would be swift, sharp, and short-lived. Yet as he stood before his father in the duke’s private study, he grudgingly acknowledged that was not proving to be the case.

“I had to read the announcement in the newspaper,” the duke roared, tossing the offending item on his desk, where it scattered across the dark mahogany. “The newspaper! Was I not owed the common courtesy of being told beforehand, in person?”

“You were not in Town,” Carter answered, raising his voice to be heard above his father’s disapproving bellows. “There was no opportunity.”