The Journey Home

T he following day, Withenshawe opted to return to London with Niven, Jock and Kenneth. It amused Niven that the duke evidently preferred not to ride with his three sons. They'd insisted they needed at least another day to prepare for the journey.

In contrast, Lady Willow had quickly been ready to travel with the other ladies in the Ramsay carriage.

When they stopped for refreshments in Slough, Lady Willow fussed over her father. He accepted her stern orders about his health with good grace. Their mutual fondness and respect was obvious.

"She's been the same with Freddie," Cat confided as they made their way back to the carriages. "She kept him amused all the way here."

"She'll make a good mother," Lady Maureen said. "She clearly loves children."

Everyone boarded the respective carriage and they set off again. Withenshawe had dozed during much of the first part of the journey, but the respite seemed to refresh him. "You know," he told his fellow passengers. "There was talk at the Congress that Napoleon had aged prematurely in Elba and become corpulent."

"I heard those rumors," Kenneth confirmed. "Apparently, he's always been troubled with…er…well, rectal discomfort when he sits for too long."

"He means hemorrhoids," Withenshawe chuckled. "If it's true, he'll find sitting a horse in battle a big problem."

They shared the humor. Laughter at Napoleon's expense ensured that the remainder of the journey into London passed quickly. Niven was confident Withenshawe didn't suspect his protégé was wholly preoccupied with visions of Lady Willow round with his bairn.

Willow had never seen a babe-in-arms before the Hawkins came to visit. Despite her nervousness, she enjoyed cuddling Freddie and singing to him. She hadn't given much thought to bearing children but suddenly craved what Catriona Ramsay had—a loving husband and little ones of her own. Had meeting Niven King brought on these maternal feelings?

She knew so little about him. He was a commoner from a family of whisky distillers, a Scot who worked for her father. Certainly not husband material for the daughter of a duke. Yet, the heated glances they'd shared left no doubt in her mind he was attracted to her.

Of course, if her brothers were to be believed, a man didn't have to care about a woman to want to possess her. Not that the Three Trees would ever voice such a sentiment in her presence, but they tended to be boisterously loud when consorting with their unruly army pals.

Perhaps Niven King was like them. The absurd notion brought on a fit of the giggles.

"Are ye well?" Duchess Catriona asked.

"Very well," she replied. "I was just looking forward to the day I have a child of my own."

"I warn ye. They can be exhausting, but a bairn fills a house with love. I havena told Kenneth yet, but we've another on the way."

"My dear," the Dowager Duchess exclaimed with delight. "Another grandchild for me to spoil."

"Congratulations," Willow murmured, feeling privileged to be let in on the secret not even the duchess' mother-in-law had known.

Both carriages rendezvoused at Ramsay House in London's fashionable west end. Footmen assisted members of the Hawkins family to alight from the vehicles. Willow was now the only occupant of the Ramsay brougham, so she boarded the Withenshawe carriage for the remainder of the journey. She sat next to her father and linked her arm with his as they set off. Niven King took up most of the seat across from her. He was related to the Hawkins family, so why had he not disembarked with them?

"I'm worried you've overdone it, Papa," she said, reluctant to inquire after the reason for the Scot's presence.

"I do feel tired," he confessed. "Don't worry, I'll retire as soon as we get home."

"As will I," Niven rumbled, stretching his arms out to the side. "Travelin' takes a toll on a body."

"You're staying at the townhouse?" Willow asked, surprised words actually emerged from her parched throat. If travel had taken a toll on his broad chest and massive shoulders, there was no evidence of it.

"Aye," he replied with a wink that sent her temperature soaring. "But ye needna fash. I spend most o' my time at the docks."

"Niven's a good lad," her father remarked. "We couldn't manage without him."

"Generous o' ye to say so, Yer Grace," Niven replied.

"I'm afraid you'll have your work cut out for you with my sons. They've never taken much interest in the company."

That had to be the understatement of the decade, but Willow wasn't about to criticize her brothers to a stranger.

"We'll manage," was all Niven said in reply.

The diplomatic response added to her growing attraction.

"Ramsay's lucky," Willow's father remarked after a while. "Kenneth and his Catriona are obviously deeply in love. It's a boon to be blessed with a loving wife."

"And their son is adorable," Willow replied, detecting the wistful note in her father's voice. Polite society had considered Willow's late mother eccentric, but she knew her parents had loved each other.

"What about you, young Niven? Any prospects of marriage?"

Caught unawares by the question, Niven trotted out the words he'd uttered so often. "Nay, Yer Grace, I plan to remain a lifelong bachelor."

It became unbearably hot in the confines of the carriage. Lady Willow must think him a callow cad who'd led her on with heated glances. He itched to take her into his arms and kiss away the dismay on her lovely face.

"You surprise me," the duke replied. "Scots usually place a high value on family."

"Aye, weel, ye ken Tavish and Payton both ha'e bonnie wives and healthy bairns," he declared, wishing he could regain control of what came out of his mouth. "I gave up on marrying a long time ago."

"Pity," the duke replied with a yawn.

Disgust and a deep sense of disappointment in himself better described Niven's feelings. He grieved the loss of Lady Willow's regard.