“But this is the finest china, my lord. Note the details of the fingers, and see how she moves?” Her wheedling tone rose to a higher pitch as she shifted the doll’s arms and legs. “And this is the first one I have ever seen with real leather slippers. It is truly a gem. A truly special gift the little miss will treasure.”
Apparently, he was not meant to escape this place without that feckin’ doll. Not unless he wished to be rude and show his arse. Since this woman knew Merry, he didn’t want to do that and bring down embarrassment upon his wife. At least now he knew the bairn was a wee lassie. “Wrap a fine ribbon around the box, aye? I’ll be taking it with me.”
“Excellent choice!”
Choice, my hairy arse.He’d had no choice, but he tipped a politenod and dropped a few coins on the counter. “Will that cover it, then?”
“Indeed, it will, my lord. Thank you.” She slid the beribboned box toward him, then clasped her hands under her plump chin. “And again, it was such a pleasure meeting Lady Merry’s fine husband. Mr. Mettlestone and I think the world of her.”
“A pleasure to meet ye as well.” Tucking the gift under his arm, he made a hasty retreat, not breathing easy until he was comfortably back in the saddle. Now on to the inn to clean up, get the directions he needed, and pay a much-needed visit to his wife.
*
After the ladtending the front garden of the modest manor house took charge of his horse, Duncan went to knock on the front door, but it opened before his knuckles hit the wood.
The tall, thin man who Duncan assumed was the butler eyed him expectantly but didn’t speak.
“Lord Kirkston,” Duncan said. “Lady Merry’s husband.”
The servant sprang into action, opening the door wider and ushering him inside. “Welcome, Lord Kirkston. Do come in. May I take your things?”
Duncan divested himself of his hat and gloves but kept hold of the box containing the doll, keeping it tucked under his arm as he entered the parlor. While he longed to set eyes on no one but Merry, to play this game properly, he needed to visit with the Wakefields first.
“Kirkston! Good to see you again,” Wakefield said as he charged into the room. The man was in even brighter spirits than the last time Duncan had seen him. “Here to see if we’ve locked away your wife and plan to keep her permanently?”
Duncan forced what he hoped came off as a snort of amusement. “My diary was clear for the next several days, so I thought to come and visit. Congratulations on the wee one and the good health of yerwife.” He awkwardly held out the box. “A gift for the lassie.”
Wakefield beamed at him as he accepted the parcel and placed it on a table. “Thank you. Our little Abigail is amazing. We are simply besotted with her.” He went to the cabinet in the corner and drew out a pair of glasses. “Care for a drink?”
“A whisky, if ye have it.”
“A whisky it is.” Wakefield filled the glasses and handed one to Duncan.
Duncan lifted his glass. “A toast to Miss Abigail and all the joy she brings with her.” The irony of his words was not lost on him. Here he stood, toasting another man’s child and their joy and happiness when he wasn’t even brave enough to seek out that joy for himself.
Wakefield clinked his glass to his, downed the dram, then refilled them both. “I fear it’s just us for now. Sweet Felli is taking a much-deserved nap, and your lovely wife is in the nursery trying to convince my daughter that nights are for sleeping and days are for being awake. The latest nurse did not work out at all, and the replacement isn’t due to arrive until tomorrow or the next day. I don’t know what we would have done without your Merry.”
Even though he knew it would seem strange, Duncan simply had to see her. He couldn’t stomach another moment sitting in the parlor with a man so feckin’ happy that it was nauseating. “Might I go up to the nursery, then? To see the babe? And let Merry know that I am here?”
Lord Wakefield appeared mildly surprised, but Duncan doubted if anything on earth could wipe that silly grin off the man’s face. “Of course! How rude of me.” He set his drink aside, snatched up the box containing the doll, and started toward the door. “Come. Follow me. I’ll take you up.”
Duncan hurried after him, an equal mix of excitement and dread thrumming through his veins. Merry would know exactly why he was here. She was not a fool. But how angry would she be?
Then the sweetest music came to him through the partially opened door at the top of the stairs. It was Merry softly singing.
Wakefield thrust the box into his arms and pointed, whispering, “You go ahead. I shall return to the parlor and give the two of you some privacy.” With a look that said he knew entirely too much about Duncan and Merry’s situation, he offered a sympathetic nod, then turned and quietly returned downstairs.
Duncan stared at the door, mesmerized by Merry’s gentle crooning. After a hard swallow, he eased it open and stepped inside.
Sunlight flooded the room, casting its golden glow on Merry and the wiggling babe she cradled in her arms. It was the most heart-stopping sight Duncan had ever seen, making it impossible to breathe. He had never witnessed her so happy, so serene, as she smiled down at the softly fussing child and sang her happy, lilting song.
He stood there, rooted in place, unable to move. This place was too good for him. He should never have come—not after denying the woman he loved more than life itself the one thing she had always dreamed. Just as he eased back a step to leave her in peace with her joy, the wooden floorboards creaked, and she looked up. Her eyes locked with his.
“Duncan?” Confusion filled her face and, dare he hope, perhaps a little happiness at seeing him? “Why in the world are you here? Parliament is still in session.”
“Parliament means nothing to me.” He tried to wet his lips. Damn, his mouth had gone dry as dust. He wished he still had his whisky in his hand instead of this feckin’ doll. Suddenly remembering the ruse, he held it up. “I brought a gift for the wee lassie.”
Merry’s face lit even brighter. “How very sweet. Open it for her.” She smiled down at the wiggly infant as she gently rocked and bounced. “Little Miss Abby has gone a bit fractious on us these past few days and decided to give her poor mama no rest at all. Perhaps a gift will make her happy.”
