Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

" H e looks just like his father." Mama sniffed over the newborn babe as the Nottingham sisters converged in Violet's room the following week. Violet herself lay happily on the bed, looking the worse for wear yet glowing all the same. Whoever thought women lost their luster after marriage and children had clearly never witnessed the joy of a mother newly delivered of a longed-for child.

"Well, at least my job is done." Violet laughed softly, her golden hair a halo around her face. The luxurious furnishings of Rodworth Place surrounded her almost like an elevated throne. "Clive can stop fretting that the title will go to his third cousin twice removed."

"He's never fretted about that to you, has he?" Rose could not help asking her sister. "I never thought the title mattered that much to him."

"No, he never blamed me." Violet smiled. Even the perspiration on her forehead did little to diminish her beauty. "But you know how seriously he takes his duties. I was half worried he'd start moving his relatives to Rodworth Place to 'train them properly for the future' if this one were another girl."

"Has Eva met him yet?" asked Brooke, peering over her mother's shoulder at the child.

"He's met everyone already, the little baron. Cried louder than Eva, like a town crier at his own arrival."

"He outranks me and my husband already." Heather, the eldest sister, laughed. Mama handed the future Lord Rodworth over to Heather's experienced arms. Three children in rapid succession had a way of making even a very young mother a seasoned veteran at the task, Rose supposed. "And I have never been happier. I never liked walking in first at dinner."

"Rose outranks all of us, if that's the case." Violet looked over at Rose, who reached over to squeeze her sister's hand. "And I suppose that is very helpful, given that she is the smallest one. Far easier to see her when she's walking up front."

The family laughed, the moment as tender and lighthearted as could be. After the shadow of Papa's passing—and the subsequent year of mourning and neglect—today's reason for gathering proved refreshing and precious, a new beginning that heralded a brighter future to come.

"Do you have to return up North soon?" Violet asked Heather. "I could always do with an extra pair of hands around here. And Eva, the little tyrant, might need time to consider her new role."

"Do you need me to teach her how to better be an older sister?" asked Heather, still cooing at the child. "I am flattered if you think I did a good job of it."

"I can come help," offered Mama, while all the sisters tried not to laugh too hard about her offer. There were many things one could learn from the dowager Lady Shallingsworth. How to care for one's child without the help of a nursemaid was distinctly not one of them. "Brooke and I can share the room across the hall."

Violet shuddered while Heather and Rose tried even harder to stifle their chuckles.

"Is the townhouse not to your liking, Mama?" Rose intervened, receiving a grateful look from Violet in the process. "Frederick and I can try to find another one."

"Oh, do not bother His Grace. The place is splendid," Mama assured readily. "And it is so extremely generous of him to lease it for us."

"It is." Rose smiled the contented smile of a wife who both loved and respected her husband. "There is enough room for you, I hope."

"It is perfect—and so very close to the book shop," Brooke answered before Mama could. "I've already set up my study."

"Nothing quite so scandalous, dear." Mama shot a reprimanding look at her youngest. "A study is for menfolk, you know. It is only a parlor, with an escritoire."

"It is a study," Brooke insisted.

The sisters laughed, the baby cooed, and Rose marveled at how close her heart felt to bursting.

Frederick smiled at the sight of his wife as she slid into their bedchamber that evening. It had taken them all of three days to decide that the joint bedrooms, while highly practical for storing their respectively expansive wardrobes, were entirely unnecessary for everything else.

It was so much warmer to have each other at night, and days were so much sweeter when one knew one would retire to one's quarters for the evening knowing that the one person dearer than anyone else in the world would be right there as well.

"Did the menu turn out alright?" Frederick asked as Rose shuffled about putting away the simple jewelries and knickknacks she'd sported during the day. Her tastes remained as unembellished as always, but he rather enjoyed purchasing her more expensive variations of her former baubles. She was, after all, the new Duchess of Burgess.

"Mrs. Flambert proved a most valuable ally." Rose smiled prettily before she turned around to let Frederick help with her buttons. Frederick didn't particularly like the memory of his bride having had to scrimp and save for the better half of the past two years, but he did delight in how easily Rose dispensed of her lady's maid each night. Why call on a servant's services to assist her at the end of a day when her husband was perfectly glad to? "I would be glad to see all the fish not go to waste. I only hope the new cook is not so wholly scandalized at how much her new mistress wishes to interfere in the kitchen."

"She will adore you, as do all the servants." Frederick slipped the last button open, earning himself a grateful smile from his duchess. "As does everyone with a smart enough head on his shoulders."

"As do you then?" Rose grinned at him as she slipped off her evening dress and set it aside before attacking her hair next.

"You know I adore you." Frederick smiled lazily at his bride. Rose was lovely—so lovely that he could hardly believe how long it had taken him to realize how utterly he'd fallen for her soft, beguiling ways. She was lovely in the drawing room, easing the way for all their guests. She was lovely in the kitchen, managing the servants with the perfect blend of authority and compassion. She was lovely in the morning with her bright and ready smile, and she was lovely in the evenings curled sweetly against his side .

Frederick himself might have required a heavy amount of effort to accustom himself to the role of a duke, but Rose certainly seemed to be having far less trouble blooming into the perfect duchess.

"Is everything well with your mother's house?" Frederick asked once Rose returned beside him on the small couch, her hair down and beautiful. She handed him her brush with a smile and turned for their newfound little ritual. "We can attempt to find grander accommodations if she wishes."

"The current place is everything generous. I dare say I saw her weep more upon moving into the place than moving out of Nottingham House."

"Truly? I'd worried she might need more rooms."

"Are you always going to be in such uncertainty of your own generosity?" His Rose turned to clasp his hands. Her skin flushed prettily as he gave her hair another gentle stroke.

"I'm afraid I am always going to be uncertain about a lot of things, my love. Hence, my need for you."

"You cannot be so entirely lacking confidence in everything, surely."

"No, not everything." He pulled her in for a long, tender, lingering kiss. Her heartbeat throbbed against his own. "I shall always be confident that I have the best wife in all of England."

"And here you had me fooled that you do not know how to woo a woman."

"I suppose you've taught me well."

He could only reward her laugh with another unending kiss.