“I am always thankful to have Andrew with us when we go riding,” she said. “Kit is less likely to challenge me to a race.”
They both laughed.
“Arace?” Kit said. “Heaven help us, aracewith Lauren involves taking our horses into a fairly moderate trot. It is enough to make one weep, Syd, I swear.”
But Anne’s attention was soon taken by the approach to Lindsey Hall along a straight, tree-lined driveway—the very driveway down which Claudia must have stridden on the day she resigned from her post as Lady Hallmere’s governess. The house itself, huge and sprawling, was a mixture of architectural designs, testament to its great age and to the attempts of former dukes to enlarge and improve it. It was impressive and surprisingly beautiful. Before it was a large circular flower garden, still colorful though it was late in the year. At its center was a massive stone fountain, though the waterworks must have been turned off for the approaching winter.
After dismounting at the stables and turning the horses over to the care of grooms, they were shown into the house, and Anne’s breath was fairly taken away by the medieval splendor of it, with its intricately carved minstrel gallery, its huge stone fireplace and whitewashed walls covered with shields and banners, and the enormous oak banqueting table that stretched along its length.
But they were not left long to contemplate it. The duchess came hurrying into the hall only a minute or two after the butler had disappeared to announce their arrival. Both her arms were stretched out ahead of her.
“Lauren, Kit,” she said. “And Andrew and Sophie. What a delight! And Miss Jewell—itisyou. AndDavid. And Mr. Butler.” She laughed. “Oh, whatisthis? Do tell me.”
“Not Miss Jewell, your grace,” Sydnam said, “but Mrs. Butler.”
The duchess clasped her hands to her bosom and beamed from one to the other of them. But before she could say any more, the Duke of Bewcastle himself strolled into the hall, his eyebrows raised, his quizzing glass in his hand and halfway to his eye.
“Oh, Wulfric,” the duchess said, hurrying to his side and taking his arm with both hands, “here are Lauren and Kit and the children, and Mr. Butler has married Miss Jewell after all. We were right, you see, and you were wrong.”
“I beg your pardon, my love,” his grace said, making a slight bow that encompassed them all, “but I must protest in my own defense. I do not believe I ever said that either you or my brothers and sisters and their spouses werewrong. What I did say, if you will remember, is that matchmaking was an undignified and unnecessary activity when the two people concerned were quite capable of conducting their own courtship. It would seem, then, thatIwas right. And so you have taken leave of absence from your post in order tomarry,have you, Sydnam? My felicitations. Ma’am?” He bowed again to Anne.
“And we are going to have a new baby,” David blurted happily.
The duchess’s hands flew to her mouth, though her eyes danced with merriment above them. Kit and Lauren were very quiet. The duke raised his quizzing glass all the way to his silver eye and directed it at David.
“Are you, indeed?” he said frostily. “But I would wager, my boy, that that was your mama’s secret to tell—or not tell. I doubt you would be delighted if she divulged one ofyoursecrets.”
The duchess lowered her hands and stepped closer to hug David.
“But it is the most splendid secret in the world,” she said, “and belongs to your whole family, not just to your mama. But why are we standing here just as if there were no nursery for the children to play in and no morning room where there is a warm fire for the rest of us to take coffee? Mama and Eleanor are up there and will be delighted to welcome company.”
Anne felt somewhat as she had felt on her arrival at Alvesley.Whyhad she not thought of having a word with David before they came here? She glanced helplessly at Sydnam, who looked back, a twinkle in his eye. The wretch! He was actually enjoying this!
The duchess linked an arm through hers and led her in the direction of the staircase.
“I am so very happy for you, Mrs. Butler,” she said. “Is it not the mostgloriousfeeling in the world to discover that one is with child? Both Wulfric and I believed when we married that we could not have children. James is our miracle, the little rascal. He kept his nurse up half of last night with his crying and then fell promptly asleep after his feed this morning when I wished to play with him.”
They had discussed a possible courtship between her and Sydnam, Anne was thinking—all the Bedwyns, that was, at Glandwr. They had tried tomatchmake.
She had had no idea.
She would have died of embarrassment if she had.
She turned to catch Sydnam’s eye and surprised herself by exchanging a smile with him.
Had he known?
Had he minded?
Had hewantedto court her? When he had asked her to marry him at Ty Gwyn, had he meant it? Had he wanted her to say yes?
It would make all the difference in the world if he had.
Butifhe had, why had he asked in such a way?
If you wish, Anne, we will marry.
But she would have said no anyway, she supposed. Just as she ought to have said no in Bath. But how could she have refused then?
