“Go ahead, my dears,” Maman said. “We shall see you later.”
Once back in their cabin, William wrapped his arms around Eugénie, kissing her tenderly. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”
She nibbled his bottom lip. “I feel the same. In the meantime . . .”
His lips tilted up. “In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about the best way to get you out of that perfectly lovely gown, my lady.”
“Have you, my lord? And what have you decided?”
Her bodice started to sag. “That I’m getting very good at this.”
Epilogue
February 1917, the Queen Hotel, St. Thomas
Although they had planned to spend Christmas in England, finding a trustworthy person to manage Papa’s concerns here had not gone as smoothly as he had hoped. Finally, Andrew’s grandfather had found a man, but he did not leave England until January.
Eugénie pulled out the letters she’d received from the wives of William’s friends. They all expressed their desire to meet her as soon as may be, and she was looking forward to meeting them. William had described all but one of them to her. He had not yet met Lord Huntley’s wife. Now just one thing marred her happiness. She glanced around at the trunks and portmanteaux stacked up against two walls of the parlor. “Are you sure you are not up to coming with us?”
Cicely shook her head. “Not with this morning sickness. I think the journey would make it worse.” She smiled. “We plan to travel in March or April. After all, I do not wish to attend my first Season as big as a house.”
“I shall miss you.” Eugénie blinked back tears. “But summer is not that far off.”
“I’ll miss you as well.” Her friend hugged her. “Don’t forget to write and tell me about everything.”
Several carters began moving the luggage. “I shall write every week.”
“Eugénie, my love.” William handed her his handkerchief. “It’s time. Your father sent a note that we must come now. Captain Black is waiting for us.”
“Oui, oui.”She hugged Cicely. “I shall see you in a few months.”
April 1817, Dunwood House, London
Eugénie and William were ushered down a corridor toward the family drawing room of their friends Marcus and Phoebe, Earl and Countess of Evesham, whom Eugénie had met on a shopping trip to Town. A few days later, Anna, Lady Rutherford, and Emma, Lady Marsh, appeared as well.
Eugénie had been corresponding with the other ladies and was now eager to put faces with their names.
A cacophony of shrill squeals, deep laughter, and female admonishments met her ears. It sounded so much like home, she grinned at William. Ahead of them Marcus’s butler, Wilson, bowed and announced in sonorous tones, “The Viscount and Viscountess Wivenly.”
The room seemed full of ladies in varying stages of pregnancy or holding babies. Gentlemen lounged on the floor, playing with the children crawling or toddling across the floor. She touched her own swelling stomach.
Phoebe came swiftly toward them, taking Eugénie’s hands in her own. “Welcome. I am so glad you are here. We put this off so that Serena and Robert could be here.”
Marcus stood behind Phoebe, grinning. “Now that you’re here, tea will be served soon, but I’ve got some very good sherry if you’d like to give it a try.”
William hesitated. “My love?”
Anna and Emma waved at Eugénie. “Go on.” She smiled up at him. “I wish to meet the rest of the ladies.”
“Eugénie,” Phoebe said, as she led her to an auburn-haired woman holding a tiny baby. “I know you’ve been in contact with everyone. Allow me to help you sort them all out.”
“But this must be Serena, is she not?”
The woman shifted the child onto her shoulder. “Indeed I am, and you are Eugénie. When are you expecting?”
“In August.” Eugénie reached out, stroking the baby’s head. “How old is she now?”
Serena smiled. “Three weeks. Elizabeth will give her father gray hair before his time.”
