“Yes. Just so. And when your own child comes, I know you will protect that babe as I was not able to protect you. I know you will love with every fiber of your heart. As I love you.”
“I will.”
“I only hope someday all my children will heal.”
He followed her gaze across the room to where Cassandra stood in a corner with Jamie MacLeod, arguing over God knew what. The Scotsman face’s was contorted with anger, his eyes blazing. Cassandra glared back, defiant. Something was flaring between the two. Lucien had noticed it since the night of the charity event in London. God knew, he felt for them both, remembering his own tumultuous passage a few weeks past. He was about to go over and see what was amiss when Cassandra spun away and stormed out. MacLeod slammed his fist into the wall but did not go after her. Before Lucien could do so, Lord Elliot approached.
“May I have a moment?” the older man asked, his face furrowed with concern.
Lucien bit back a groan. He’d not forgiven Grace’s father or stepmother for their treatment of her. “Of course.”
“Grace told me what happened the night of her charity event,” Lord Elliot said, his glasses askew. “You saved the lives of everyone at Raven’s Court, then chose to bring the family of the man who intended to kill you to Everdene.”
“Yes. And I hired a barrister to take Nolan’s case.”
“You may very well destroy your political career, championing such people. Your father?—”
“I am not my father. I have no intention of shaping my policy to satisfy him.”
“I know that now. When you came to court my daughter, I feared the Harcourt ruthlessness.” Elliot looked across the room at his daughter, tenderness suffusing his face. “But anyone with eyes can see how happy Grace is now. I regret…”
Elliot’s words trailed off. Much as Lucien wanted to blame the man for driving Grace to such desperate measures, she would not be his wife tonight had her father not tried to force her hand elsewhere.
“We both have regrets,” Lucien said, “but whatever happened in the past led us here.” Lucien offered the old man his hand.
Elliot shook it just as his wife called him over. “Youmustcome see this darling puppy, Vernon,” Helen said, her red plaid gown pooling about her as she sat on the ground next to Bennet and the squirming dog. “Be gentle. He’s very tiny.”
“Can’t we take him home?” Bennett begged.
Arkwright stood over them, looking at Lucien. “This one is Grace’s. But I have it on good authority there’s another just like him, waiting for someone to take care of him.”
Bennett looked at Helen, his eyes going wide. “Could we…?”
“I’m afraid puppies and toads do not mix. A pup is likely to eat it.”
“I promise no more toads in the house!” The other two boys looked at her, both nodding.
Helen glanced at her husband, her brows raised, waiting for his input.
“Let’s hope the dog is better received than the toad,” he muttered under his breath. Then, much louder, said, “Why not! It’s Christmas.”
The boys cheered. Elliot turned back to Lucien, a look of concern in his eye. “I applaud you for the stand you’re taking,” he said. “Just…have a care. Freyne and Pinchbeck are not alone in their willingness to do anything to maintain the gentry’s hold on power. And your father is a most formidable enemy.”
As if Lucien didn’t know it. He would be even more vigilant now. But that was for later. Tonight, he wanted to revel in this first Christmas with Grace.
Lucien strolled toward her as she stood near the Nolan children, the sight of them with their new toys cheering him. Sibby and Scrap gathered round Bennet and the puppy, while Robert Nolan took lessons in swordsmanship from Avery and Ethan. Lucien wondered at the wisdom of arming the boys in a crowd.
Yet he couldn’t help but feel pleased at the transformation in the Nolan children. Two weeks at Everdene had worked miracles. They were turned out in new clothes, their cheeks pinkened from time running about in the wintery country air. Moira hung back with the village wives who had taken her under their wing. But even as Jane and his mother distributed yard goods and pretty combs to the women, she still wore that sorrowful, tired expression. Lucien didn’t dare tell Moira yet, but the discussions regarding Darragh Nolan’s case were taking encouraging turns as he uncovered threats Freyne had made and called in favors from the most powerful men in the kingdom.
He smiled as he heard Sibby Rose pipe up.
“We got a house for Christmas,” she told Bennet as she stroked the spaniel’s silky ears. “You should see it! Me an’ Scrap sneaked outside at night an’ you never saw so many stars in the sky!”
“My mama is a star,” Bennet said softly.
Lucien remembered how Grace had comforted her grieving brothers, pointing up to the heavens.
He felt a pang, thinking of his own sister. Cassandra had not returned after her quarrel with MacLeod. Men now surrounding the stablemaster were enthusing about the Harcourt horses, but for the first time in Lucien’s memory, the Scotsman didn’t seem to give a damn about the equine bloodline he and Simon had fought so hard to create. If anything, MacLeod looked grimmer than Lucien had ever seen him, the Scotsman glaring again and again at the door through which Cassandra had disappeared.
