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“No, they aren’t,” Mary said. “You like bread pudding better.”
“No, I don’t,” Annabel insisted.
Mary shot Ben a look that clearly stated they both understood there was no reasoning with youngsters.
Ben had always wondered what it would have been like to grow up with siblings. He supposed that since he would have been the firstborn, he would have been able to boss the others around, much like Mary was currently doing with little Annabel.
Invariably, however, the thought of children and siblings brought him straight back to Rose. He wondered if she had begun walking yet or what her first words had been. But mostly, he wondered what he was to do with her. He’d put off making plans, grateful that he’d found a competent wet-nurse and then a nursemaid and that the tiny girl had seemed to thrive . . . without much need of Ben, which was all for the best, he thought.
“You have a healthy newborn daughter, milord, thank God. I’m so sorry we lost Lady Winton,” the physician said as he draped a cloth over Gemma’s face. The midwife was busy swaddling the baby nearby. “’Tis a tragedy that sadly happens all too frequently.”
Ben heard the words but could only see Gemma’s face as her life had ebbed away.
“Here we are,” Mary said when they reached the back entrance that led out onto the formal gardens. “Everyone is waiting for us.”
“Then it is time to end our lovely chat and join them, is it not?” Ben said, shaking off the ghosts of his past and the troubles that still remained.
* * *
Rebecca shouldn’t have been surprised by Lavinia’s recognition of her feelings for Ben—apparently, she wasn’t very good at masking them—but she had appreciated Lavinia’s words of encouragement.
What Rebeccahadn’tplanned on was watching Ben cross the lawn to the group with one little girl marching in front of him and another clutching his hand and looking at him as if he were her hero. He looked perfectly natural doing it too, which was entirely distressing. What was it about men with children that made them seem even more attractive than they were before?
“Ah, Lord Winton,” Isobel, acting as hostess, said as she walked a few steps forward to greet him. “I am so glad you chose to join our family luncheon this afternoon. More to the point, I’m hopeful that your arrival means you have forgiven our husbands for their prior lack of hospitality.”
“All is forgotten, Mrs. Jennings,” Ben replied with a nod.
“Thank you,” Isobel said. She led him to where the rest of the adults lounged with Rebecca on the blankets that had been spread on the lawn earlier—all, that is, except Lucas, who had joined the little boys in a bit of lawn bowls a short distance away. “I don’t believe you have met my brother- and sister-in-law. Please allow me to introduce the Reverend Isaac Jennings and his wife, Clara. Isaac, Clara, the Earl of Winton. He inherited the neighboring property that formerly belonged to Mr. Arnold.”
Isaac rose to his feet and gave Ben a hearty handshake. “I saw you at the back of the church this morning, if I’m not mistaken.”
“That you did, sir,” Ben said. “Excellent sermon, by the way.”
Rebecca knew Ben well enough by now that while she could tell he was earnest in his compliment to Isaac, there was also something he wasn’t saying. She wondered what it might be.
“Thank you, Lord Winton,” Isaac said. He then smoothly led Ben away from the others, intent, no doubt, in securing Ben’s support—financial or otherwise—for a few of his parish’s charitable concerns. Isaac, gregarious but pious in nature, had certainly found his calling within the Church, even if it meant he got a bit eager at times.
Rebecca watched Ben glance at her with a look that seemed to suggest Isaac was indeed holding him captive. She shot him a bland look in return. She was still hurt by his words to Thomas and Lucas. Besides, he was a gentleman of the world and certainly didn’t need her help to be rescued from a country vicar. He could undoubtedly extricate himself from the situation if he felt the need.
She was also parched; she wished she had a glass of lemonade, but she wasn’t about to cross to the buffet table on her crutches to pour one for herself, she thought grumpily.
She suddenly realized that her sisters-in-law, Thomas, and even Delia, Artie, and Hannah were scrutinizing her closely and then scrutinizing Benand thenscrutinizing her again, which only irritated her further.
Isobel clapped her hands together, making Rebecca jump. “It appears that luncheon is ready. I hope you all are exceedingly hungry. Come, children; it’s time for luncheon now. You may continue your game after you eat.” Clara stood and began shepherding the children over to the blankets that had been spread for them near the adults. She and Isaac employed no governess, and it was obvious to anyone who watched where Mary had learned to take charge. Clara was joined by Wynn, who seemed to magically appear on the scene at the proper moment, which was not a surprise at all. Thomas and Isobel’s nanny was a jewel and as capable as Clara, and all the Jennings children adored her.
“May I bring you a plate?” a deep male voice Rebecca knew well said, drawing her attention away from the children.
She looked up. He was so tall it hurt her neck to look at him. “Perhaps a lemonade, if you would be so kind,” she said, matching his formal tone with one of her own.
“As you wish,” he said. He strode to the buffet table where her siblings were now beginning to gather and soon returned with a glass of lemonade, which she downed quickly. “Would you care for me to refill it?” he asked.
“No,” Rebecca replied. “But thank you for the offer.”
Their conversation was ghastly thus far. It didn’t help that everyone still continued to watch the two of them even as they filled their own plates.
She sought desperately for something to say.
“It was quite easy to discern that another Jennings brother stood at the pulpit at St. Alfred’s,” Ben said.
