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“What did you say then?”
“I just told her again to leave me alone.”
“But she wouldn’t.”
“Not Granny. She held down her hand to me and said she had something I needed to see. I tried to ignore her. But she only waited, her hand outstretched. Finally, I took it and she brought me here, to the West Wing Gallery. She showed me this portrait and she said, ‘You are just as much a DeValery as your father or your brother or your little sister and you must never, ever forget that you are.’”
Genny swallowed down the lump that had formed in her throat. “I do adore Eloise.”
He nodded toward the portrait. “Lord Richard was rumored to be the child of one of the gardeners.”
“And two hundred years later, they’re saying the same thing about you. It does make you wonder...”
“What?”
“Well, who’s to say Richard wasn’t legitimate, too? Who’s to say he didn’t just take after some other long-ago, long-forgotten ancestor way back in the DeValery line?”
He put on a severe expression. “Because a true DeValery isn’t built like a common laborer. He doesn’t have a broad nose, dusky skin and coarse black hair.”
“Rafe, that’s just so much crap.”
“It’s good you never let my father hear you talk like that.”
“It’s strange. He was so awful to you. And yet, I was never afraid of him. Toward me, he was always kind and gentlemanly.”
“Because you’re someone who matters, a princess of Montedoro—even if your father is a damned upstart American.”
She sighed. “He was not only cruel, your father. He was a terrible snob, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was.” He gathered her close to him. “My father was a very proud man. And every time he looked at me, he was reminded that we all—all of us proud DeValerys—might have a common gardener’s blood running in our veins.”
* * *
The next morning, Saturday, Rafe woke her with kisses.
She sighed in pleasure and twined her arms around his neck.
He kissed her again—and then shoved back the covers.
“Rafe!” she protested.
He only laughed and jumped from the bed. “Come on. The sun’s out. Get up. No laying about. Get dressed. Wear riding gear. We’ll go after breakfast, a nice ride around the lake, to the deer park, maybe to the castle—and we’ll take it slow, in consideration of your delicate condition.”
She leaned out between the curtains on her side of the bed, grabbed up one of her slippers and threw it at him as he strode for the dressing room. He dodged before it hit him in the shoulder. “Missed me,” he said smugly, without bothering even to turn around. He put the dressing room door between them before she could find something else to throw.
They went down to breakfast together. Brooke, Fiona and Melinda all came down a few minutes later.
Fiona behaved as though the incident by the powder room the night before had never taken place. She had coffee and a brioche and talked about the County Show at the show grounds near Elvaston the next day. She and her husband would be taking their boys.
“Besides all the horse competitions and the livestock show, there will be the usual tractor show and vintage car exposition.” Fiona hid a yawn. “Gerald loves old cars. And then there’s the carnival. The boys are like wild animals over candy floss, toffee apples and the giant blow-up slide.”
Brooke said, piling on the sarcasm, “Don’t forget the hedge laying and dry stone walling exhibitions.”
And Genny couldn’t resist throwing in somberly, “Hedge laying matters, Brooke. Hedgerows are important habitats for wildlife. They make natural fences between fields and properties. They serve as a windbreak for cattle.”
Brooke sent her a quelling look and said, “I know Granny will want to go. Rafe?”
He looked at Genny, one dark brow lifted.
Brooke groaned. “You two. It’s becoming embarrassing. Are you joined at the hip now?”
After last night, Genny felt closer than ever to Rafe. Even Brooke’s scorn couldn’t get to her that morning. “We’re newlyweds. Being joined at the hip is what newlyweds do—and yes, I think we should all go together.”
“Good idea,” said Rafe.
“I never said I was going,” Brooke shot back.
“We’re all going,” said Eloise from the doorway. “Together. So that’s the end of that.”
Nobody argued. Eloise rarely laid down the law, but on the rare occasions when she did, they all went along. She crossed to the sideboard and began filling a plate.
Fiona ate the last bite of her brioche. “I’ve got to get back to Tillworth. Gerald will be home from London by eleven. And it’s Saturday, which means the boys are there.” She added sourly, “They’ll all be expecting me for a little family togetherness.” She left them to grab her things.
