Epilogue

Acry erupted from Emily's chamber at Brownstone Hall, and Jacob pounded on the door. He couldn't wait any longer.

His shirtfront was untucked, and his hair surely stuck out in all directions from his pulling on it. He needed to know if Emily was all right, and he needed to know now.

He beat the door with renewed fervor.

His mother-in-law opened the door. "Patience, Papa." She stepped aside to allow him to enter.

The midwife brushed by him, padding out of the room carrying an armload of soiled bedding.

"Congratulations," Mrs. Thompson said with a smile. "I'll give you two—I mean three—some time alone." She disappeared into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

Emily lay on the bed, their swaddled child tucked against her chest. Her hair was damp and stuck to her forehead, but never had anyone looked so beautiful. She waved him over. "Come and meet your daughter, Catherine."

He snuggled beside his wife on the bed, wrapping his arm about her shoulder. Moving the soft blanket aside, he peeked at the little pink face peering up at him. He brushed his index finger down the newborn's cheek, still dazed she was real and she'd finally arrived. "She's perfect."

"Phoebe will be ecstatic we've had a girl. She already has grand plans for our Catherine and her Molly to share a schoolroom, as we did." His wife yawned, not even bothering to cover her mouth. She seemed too tired to care.

He fingered the little tuft of dark hair on the baby's head. Perhaps she would have dark hair like her mama. "How old is Molly? She's giant compared to our Catherine."

"Six months. It won't take long for Catherine to catch up." Emily yawned once more. "She's already a good eater."

Emily'd had little rest. The pains of childbirth had come upon her as soon as they'd retired the night before, and now it was close to the evening meal. "You should sleep."

She shook her head and held little Catherine up to him. "After we introduce the baby to her brother and the rest of the family."

Jacob carefully extracted Catherine from his wife's arms, careful to hold her head. He'd never seen a baby so tiny. Not even his nephew, Nora and Robert's son, looked this small when he'd first met him. But Robert Junior had been several weeks old when Jacob first laid eyes on the lad, and Catherine wasn't even an hour past birth.

He tucked the white blanket around her and touched her hand. She curled her tiny palm around his index finger, and Jacob caught his breath.

He'd never had a chance to know Christian at this age, but God had blessed him with the opportunity to see Catherine grow in her mother's belly. He'd felt the first kicks, and now he held the precious infant in his arms.

He stood, and Catherine's face wrinkled as if she might fuss, but he rocked her as he'd seen Nora do with his nephew, and she settled.

He owed much to his brother and his wife for giving him Brownstone Hall as a wedding present. Robert and Nora claimed they already had too much to handle with their current holdings. They added how good Jacob had been for their aunt. Robert had arranged the plans with Aunt Louisa, who offered to stay at the dowager house. But Jacob and Emily would hear of no such thing. She was to remain living with them.

He lowered his head to his precious little girl. "Catherine. I'm your papa." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Your mama and I love you very much. I promise to always love you, to be here for you, and do my best to protect you from harm."

Catherine's tiny mouth stretched into a big yawn. She arched her back before settling and closing her eyes, still holding his finger.

He cautiously strode to their bedchamber entrance with such a precious package in his arms and swung the door wide.

Aunt Louisa, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, and Christian rose from the chairs Maslow had brought into the hall for them to sit and wait. "May I introduce to you the precious and adorable Miss Catherine Ann Warren."

He held the baby out for them to admire before having them follow him back into the room where Emily could see them. Aunt Louisa and Emily's parents—and even Maslow—gathered close for a peek, but Christian held back.

"A girl." He folded his arms, frowning. "I prayed for a brother."

Jacob chuckled and, with his free hand, aided Christian to climb onto the bed near Emily for a better look at his new sister.

The boy bent close. "Well." He sighed. "I guess God doesn't make mistakes."

"That's right." He smiled at his son. "His ways and timing are perfect."

Christian cranked his neck out over the baby. "You're right, Papa. It must not have been the right time for another boy like me." He patted the blanket. "You and Em are just going to have to try again."

Jacob couldn't resist winking at Emily, and a pink flush stained her cheeks. Amid stifled laughter and knowing grins from his relatives, Jacob placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "I will do my best to redeem myself."