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* * *
They rode around the lake and the village, and then they circled back toward the house, going on past it and the chapel, too, to the deer park and the castle. Later, he went to his study to catch up on some paperwork and she helped the house team with the tours and a late-afternoon wedding.
Rory called just after the wedding party had moved to the terrace for the reception. Genny excused herself and left the team and the caterers to manage the party.
There was always a deserted room somewhere at Hartmore. She found a bedroom overlooking the terrace with a nice window seat and a view of the wedding party, and she and Rory talked for over an hour.
It was nice to talk to someone from home. She and Rory had always gotten along well, though they’d never been all that close. Not like Rhia and Alice, who’d been best friends practically from birth.
Rory’s big news was that their eldest brother, Maximilian, was engaged to be married again. Max had lost his first wife, Sophie, several years ago and had made it clear to everyone that he would never remarry. So his engagement was something of a shocker to Genny. That he was marrying the former nanny, Lani Vasquez, was kind of rich, too.
But everyone loved Lani. And Rory said Max was happy again, at last, after all those years of dragging around looking like someone had cut out his heart.
It was to be a Christmas wedding.
“So mark your calendar,” Rory instructed. “You and Rafe will be coming. I hope Eloise can make it, too.”
And Genny said regretfully, “I doubt if we’ll make it.”
“Why not?” Rory demanded. “It’s going to be beautiful. And it’s Christmas. Everyone will be expecting you.”
“The thing is...”
“Oh, my God. Are you all right? What...?”
“I’m pregnant, Rory. The baby is due December 20.”
Rory gasped. “Why, you little...”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
“Mother and Father...?”
“Yes. They know.”
“Wow.”
Genny groaned. “Really. We were careful. But I think the condoms were expired.”
Rory confessed, “Well, I did kind of wonder. I always thought that you and Edward...”
“Yes. I was wrong about that. Way wrong.”
“So you are in love with Rafe?”
“Absolutely. I...just haven’t drummed up the courage to tell him yet.”
“This all sounds beyond delicious, I have to say.”
“I am going to tell him,” Genny insisted, and knew she sounded defensive.
The always bubbly Rory was silent. But only for a moment. “Are you happy?”
That was easy. “Yes. I am. Very happy.”
“Well, then, that’s what matters. Everything else will work itself out.”
* * *
That night, Genny and Rafe went to dinner at a nice hotel in the Peak District, not all that far from Hartmore. It was just the two of them. After the meal, they strolled the gardens around the old inn, holding hands, whispering together, laughing often.
The next day was the County Show. Genny had a great time. She especially enjoyed the horticulture exhibits and the beekeeping exhibition, and the displays of rural crafts always impressed her. She and Eloise made a point to attend both the hedge laying and the dry stone walling demonstrations.
And Melinda went back up to London that evening. All weekend, Rafe’s old girlfriend had been sweet and agreeable. And if she’d been giving Rafe more yearning glances, neither he nor Genny had spotted a single one. That night Genny admitted she’d been completely off base about Rafe’s old flame.
Rafe only said “I told you so” once.
They spent that week at Hartmore, together.
And on Friday, Geoffrey came home from school. They were all waiting for him outside the family entrance when his car arrived. He jumped out and ran to them, hugging first Brooke, then Eloise, then Rafe and finally Genny, laughing the whole time.
“There now,” he said, smiling broadly as they turned to go in. “You all know how happy I am to be home.”
To celebrate, they had his favorite, pork chops and chips, for dinner.
Brooke was all over him, her beautiful blue eyes constantly threatening to overflow with tears, insisting she’d been missing him terribly, promising him she was giving him a birthday party he would never forget.
His face fell.
Brooke cried, “What is that? A long face? What in the world are you upset about now?”
Carefully, he told her, “Mum, I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what, for God’s sake?”
“The party, Mum. I don’t need that. I would rather just have a little cake and the family.”
Brooke made a disgusted sound. “Don’t be silly. You’re like an old man, my darling, I swear you are. Not even nine years old. And ancient already. It makes me much too sad.”
