Page 35 of Snowed In with the Jilted Duke

Oliver clapped him on the shoulder. “Never fear, lad. The duchess labeled a parcel just for you.”

“Thank you, your grace!”

Turning to Pippa, Oliver extended his arm. “Shall we?”

Reluctantly, she placed her muff on the seat of the sleigh and tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his arm with a sigh. She could not deny it warmed her to have him treat her as though she was his betrothed even when they were alone, but she could not help being nervous at continuing her role when it meant lying to others.

“‘If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly,’” she said with a sigh.

A half-smile twitched at his lips. “I suppose we should be grateful Cousin Beatrice did not cast us as the Macbeths.”

“She’s likely saving that for next Christmas,” Pippa grumbled, and he laughed.

Doing his best not to grin at Pippa’s consternation, Oliver ducked as he crossed the threshold of the Kilmartin farmhouse. In the dim light from the fireplace, James Kilmartin rose from a nearby chair, a tiny baby balanced against his broad shoulder as he bowed. “Your grace!”

“Sit down, Kilmartin.” Oliver waved the man back into his seat. “The duchess sent us to make sure your wife was safely delivered.”

“Yes, your grace. Another girl.” The broad grin on Kilmartin’s face made it clear he was pleased with this result. “Millie’s resting a bit and ain’t presentable for visitors.”

The children set the parcels on the table and swarmed about anxiously, clearly dying to open them but unwilling to do so in front of the grand strangers who had brought them. One child, no more than two or three years old, toddled up behind Pippa and grabbed onto her skirts.

“Up!”

The oldest girl gasped from her place on the other side of the table. “Gillie, no! I’m that sorry, your grace.”

The older girl started around the end of the table, but Pippa smiled and bent to pick the child up, balancing her on her hip. “It’s all right. She’s only a baby.”

Gillie laughed, and Pippa laughed back at her, to the child’s delight. The plumes of Pippa’s bonnet waved as she moved her head, and the child watched them with covetous eyes.

Oliver felt an unwonted ache in the region of his heart at the sight. Naturally, he had always expected to have children when he married. He would need them to carry on the Dalston name, including a son to inherit the title when the time came. Everything he had done to restore the estates had been with the aim of preserving them for the next generation.

But seeing Pippa with a child in her arms brought that vague notion into focus. The idea of an heir and a spare was no longer a hazy goal.

Pippa would be the mother of those children. He could already picture her with them, a calm and loving presence to guide them and play with them and teach them. She would want to enjoy their children, not keep them shut away in the nursery for their nannies to raise in her place.

Having Pippa by his side would make Gaitskill Castle a home, not just a house. A place for the family they would create to live in and enjoy, not a cold monument to be preserved.

She turned to him in that moment, eyes dancing, Gillie’s small fist knotted in the fabric of her cloak. “I do believe I’ve made a friend.”

“I do believe you’re right.”

Her eyes dropped from his, color flooding her cheeks, and he knew something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression.

Gently, Pippa slid a squirming Gillie to the floor and the child toddled off, chasing the tabby cat that slid away into the shadows as soon as it spotted the girl. She wiped her hands on her cloak and looked at him.

“Shall we move on?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, and turned to Kilmartin. “We shall take our leave of you, but please convey our best wishes to Mrs. Kilmartin.”

“That I will, your grace,” the farmer said as the children chimed in with a chorus of thanks blended with awkward bows and curtsies, the younger ones imitating the older. Oliver extended his arm to Pippa and she accepted it, waving to the children as he led her out of the house.

Johnny brightened as they approached, clearly eager to rejoin his family inside. Oliver helped Pippa into the sleigh before jumping in himself and taking hold of the reins.

“Here, Johnny. Happy St. Stephen’s Day.” He tossed a sovereign to the boy, who caught it with a whoop of delight. Pippa waved as Oliver clucked to the horses and drove away.

“They seem like a lovely family.”

“They are. They only just returned to the land in the last few years.” Oliver sighed. “The Kilmartins were tenants of the Kendals for over a century until… well…”