Page 117 of The Music of Love

Portia gasped. “How is Robert taking all of this—he must be devastated?”

“He’s like a man in a dream. He hasn’t said much about his marriage to Rowena but I gather the two of them made each other fairly miserable.”

Portia thought about the woman who’d tried to kill her at least three times and shivered. “She was ready to murder all of us for a ridiculous title.”

Stacy squeezed her hand. “I know, darling.”

“What about Kitty and Robert—was it true about their child?”

“Fant said his brother raised the child. Robert has already told me he will be leaving in the morning to fetch their daughter.”

“What do you think Robert and Kitty will do?”

“I don’t know. But whatever happens he told me he would no longer live here.”

She frowned. “Are we moving here?”

“No. At least not until after the baby is born. Robert has agreed to stay until then.”

“Thank God. I want our child to be born at Whitethorn.”

“As do I, my love.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “I love you, darling. Do you think we could have a week without you forgetting that?”

She laughed. “I promise. Maybe even two weeks.”

Epilogue

Several Months Later

Whitethorn

Stacy heard a tentative scratch on the library door and leapt to his feet.

“Come,” he called, his voice rough from disuse.

It was Soames. “The countess is asking for you, my lord.” His lips twitched and Stacy could see he was struggling to contain a smile.

He stared at his generally somber butler and opened his mouth. And then closed it. And then opened it again. “Thank you, Soames, I shall be up directly.” He remained standing and staring at the door even after it had closed. He’d wanted to be upstairs with her for hours and now, quite suddenly, he was . . . nervous.

Robert lowered the paper he’d been reading and regarded him with an amused, tolerant smirk. “Well, are you ready, old man?”

Stacy looked at his brother—his younger brother—his mind a whirl. Poor Robert had not had an easy time these past months. He’d stayed to manage their father’s holdings, but Kitty had wanted nothing to do with him. Fortunately, he’d seen their daughter, April, quite often, even bringing her to Thurlestone to meet their aunts. Stacy and Portia had met the girl, as well, but Kitty never brought up the subject of his brother, and Stacy did not feel right about prying. Who knew what would happen between those two after such a tortured past?

“Are you just going to stand there all day, Stacy?”

He shook himself, and took a deep breath, Robert’s laughter following him from the room.

Stacy was only vaguely aware of the faces of most of his servants as he made his way toward the master suite. It felt as though the distance between the library and their bedchambers had tripled at some point during the last twenty-two hours. He took the steps two at a time and almost collided with his sister Mary at the top of the stairs.

She beamed and seized his hand. “Come, they are waiting.”

They? Oh, yes, it wasn’t just Portia he was going to see.

There seemed to be a hundred people in Portia’s bedchamber: her friends from the academy—all but Miles and Honoria—had made the long journey and had been here almost a week. Stacy had met all of the former teachers during a visit to London last Christmas, and he liked all of them—even the far-too-handsome Miles. He was glad her friends had been here for her, but right now he only had eyes for his wife. Portia was propped up on a mound of cushions, her wild black hair loose about her shoulders, her beautiful face exhausted but glowing with pride.

She held out her hands. “Oh, Stacy!”

He kissed her brow and squeezed her hands so hard she winced. “How do you feel, darling? You look beautiful. They would not let me in. Frances and Serena stopped me at the door and would not let me pass.”