She should be able to offer him everything, but she did not believe she had anything but her fondness to give.

And he should be able to offer her everything. But he had never spoken of love. He had twice offered marriage, yesterday in a touchingly romantic way, but both times it had been from duty rather than inclination. It would have to be enough, though. He was a gentle, kindly man. He would take his responsibilities seriously.

Ah, but a bride should feel very differently on her wedding day, she thought wistfully.

“I’ll go up and fetch David,” she said.

“Let me go,” Susanna offered.

“No.” Anne shook her head. “But thank you, Susanna. And thank you, Claudia. For everything.”

Keeble had disappeared, though his squeaky boots could still be heard descending the stairs.

She hugged them both quickly and climbed the stairs to the small room next to Matron’s that had always been David’s. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing his best clothes, his hair carefully combed.

“It is time to go down,” Anne said.

He looked up at her and got to his feet.

“I wish,” he said, “my papa had not died. I wish he had not. He would have played cricket with me like Cousin Joshua and taught me to ride like Lord Aidan did with Davy and he would have climbed trees with me like Lord Alleyne and taken me boating like Lord Rannulf. He would have winked at me and called me funny names in French like Lord Rosthorn. He would have held me when I was a baby like the Duke of Bewcastle with James. He would have kept you away from…from him, and he would have loved us both.”

It was not a loud diatribe. He spoke quietly but distinctly. Anne quelled her anger and concentrated upon listening to him.

“David,” she said, as she had said half a dozen times yesterday, “I am not going to love you one iota the less after this morning than I have loved you all your life. The only difference will be that I will not have to teach here and will therefore have more time to spend with you.”

“But you are going to have a baby,” he said.

“Yes.” She smiled at him. “And that means you are going to have a brother or a sister. Someone to look up to you and see you as a great hero of an elder brother-as Hannah does with Davy. The baby will be someone else to love you and someone else for you to love. I will still love you as well as I do now. I will not have to divide my love in half between you and the baby. My love will double instead.”

“But he will love the baby,” he said.

“Because he will be the baby’s papa,” she said. “He will be yours too if you wish. He said so to me and then he said so to you. He also said that he will just be your friend if you would prefer that. He is not your enemy, David. He is a good and honorable man. Lord Alleyne and Lord Aidan and the others told you a great deal about him, did they not? He is their friend. They like and admire him. And he was kind about your painting, and you liked him when he praised you and suggested you try painting with oils. Will you try to like him now too?”

“I don’t know,” he was honest enough to say. “I don’t see why you need anyone else but me, Mama-especially him. Alexander thought he was a monster. And I don’t know why you want another baby. Am I not enough for you?”

She stooped down and wrapped her arms around his slender little body, feeling his pain and bewilderment, recognizing his fear of losing all that had given his days shape and anchor through his short life. He had always had her undivided attention and love. And he had always been a cheerful, good-natured child. It hurt to see him petulant-and to know that she was the cause.

“Life changes, David,” she said. “As you grow older you will learn that. It always changes, as it did when we came here from Cornwall. But one thing will always remain the same in your life. I absolutely promise you that. I will always love you with all my heart.”

“We had better go down,” he said, “or we will be late.”

“Yes.” She straightened up and smiled down at him again. “You look remarkably handsome today.”

“Mama,” he said as he walked beside her down the stairs, “I will be polite. I will not make a scene. And I will try my very best to like him-he was kind about my painting. But don’t ever try to make me call him Papa because I won’t. I have a papa of my own, but he is dead.”

“I will be very happy,” she said, “if you call him Mr. Butler.”

And that would be her name too, she thought, feeling suddenly weak in the knees. In just a short while she was going to be Mrs. Sydnam Butler.

There was no point now, though, in feeling sudden uncertainty or panic. She was carrying their child in her womb.

She was a bride on her way to her own wedding. Her groom was waiting for her. Part of her yearned toward him-she had missed him so very much. In a moment she would actually see him.

Despite herself she felt buoyed by a sudden excitement.

Keeble opened the door to Claudia’s sitting room for them with as much gloom in his manner as if he were ushering them in to their own funeral.


Sydnam had felt terribly alone all morning though he had brought his valet with him from Wales. He still felt it after he had taken up the clergyman in his carriage. He rarely missed his family despite the fact that he was deeply fond of them all and wrote regularly to his mother and father and to Kit and Lauren. But today he missed them all with a raw intensity.