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It was astounding and utterly wonderful.
The baby contemplated her with an indecisive air, as if waiting for something to happen.
“Hello, darling,” Ainsley whispered. “Remember me? Remember your mamma?”
Tira’s eyes popped even wider for a moment. Then she screwed up her face, opened her little mouth, and began to screech. Out in the hall, the dogs began to yowl in mournful solidarity, creating an unholy din.
Ainsley winced. “I suppose she doesn’t remember me, after all.”
“Welcome to motherhood, lass,” Angus said with a snort. “I hope ye’re ready for it.”
Chapter Eleven
Ainsley eyed the wicker contraption she and Victoria were pulling along the smooth path. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“Oh, yes. Angus spent a great deal of time working on it. He saw an illustration of a children’s cart in a gazette and worked very hard to improve on the design.”
“But those carts are generally for older children. And they are usually pulled by dogs, not people, are they not?”
“Angus originally thought the dogs could pull this,” Victoria said wryly, “but Royal put his foot down. Could you imagine the terriers careening around the park with poor Tira in tow?”
“The mind reels.”
Still, the little carriage seemed quite sturdy. Angus had mounted a wicker bassinet on a base that resembled a small pushcart. Lined with blankets, the bassinet served as a comfortable cocoon for Tira to venture out into the world—or at least as far as around the garden square in front of Kendrick House.
“The pull handles were a good addition,” Ainsley admitted. “But we must look rather ridiculous.”
They’d received more than a few startled glances from the nannies and nursemaids who were quite sensibly carrying their charges or helping the toddlers walk. Or perhaps they were simply agog at the sight of aristocratic ladies trundling a cart around the square, especially when one of those ladies happened to be the Countess of Arnprior.
“It’s splendid exercise,” Victoria said. “I hate being cooped up in the house all day.”
“Yes, splendid.” Ainsley tried to ignore the perspiration trickling down her spine. “Let’s muck out the stables next.”
Victoria laughed. “Poor Ainsley. But you must agree this outing worked on Tira.”
“Thank God.” Ainsley twisted a bit to peer into the carriage. “She’sfinallyasleep.”
After a week of rainy weather, today’s sunshine had prompted this much-needed stroll. Nicholas and Victoria had arrived in Glasgow a few days ago, and the commotion of their arrival—and the surprise over Ainsley and Royal’s engagement—was only now settling down. Victoria was clearly eager for a private chat, and Ainsley was just as eager to escape from a household full of loud and opinionated Kendrick males.
Spending quiet time with Tira was a bonus. As grateful as Ainsley was to Royal, she couldn’t get past the notion that he and the other Kendrick men were constantly judging her fitness as a mother and finding her lacking. Naturally, Angus was the worst, offering a stream of comments that detailed the failings of English women in general and Ainsley in particular. Unfortunately, the old man’s assessment tended to be more accurate than not, and today was another case in point.
Tira had started fussing as soon as they left the house. By the time they reached the park she’d worked up a full head of steam. Ainsley had done her best to soothe her until finally admitting defeat and handing her over to Victoria. After the countess had rocked Tira through the worst of the storm, they’d wheeled her around the small park and the motion of the cart finally lulled her to sleep.
It had been another monumentally discouraging episode. At least only Victoria had been witness to Ainsley’s inability to comfort her own child.
“I don’t suppose we dare sit on that bench,” she said. “If we stop moving, she might wake up.”
Victoria peeked under the light throw draped over the top of the bassinet. “I think she’ll sleep for a while. She’s exhausted from all that crying.”
Ainsley sighed. “Whenever I get close it’s like a bell goes off in her head. Even the dogs have taken to hiding when I come to visit, and you know how they usually stick to Tira’s side.”
“She’s teething, dearest,” Victoria said. “That’s why she’s so fussy. It’s not you, I promise.”
When Ainsley gave her a look, her friend wrinkled her nose. “Well, maybe it’s you just a wee bit, but only because Tira doesn’t know you yet. And it doesn’t help that there’s been a great deal of commotion at the house.”
“But it’s been over a week since I arrived. And she positivelyhatedthe doll I bought for her,” she added rather inanely, referring to the very pretty and very expensive doll she now held in her free hand. “It’s like I’m cursed, or the blasted doll is.”
Ainsley had put it in the carriage, hoping to divert her daughter from her tears. Tira had wailed like a banshee until the doll was hastily removed.
