How wrong he had been about her!
She laughingly tossed her stone, gathered the hems of her tightly-tailored skirt, and hopped across the board of squares. Two feet. One foot. Two feet. One foot. Down and back again, until she came back to him, breathless and giddy.
When had he ever played? Or even lost himself to fun?
He clapped for her with real enthusiasm. “Well done, dear!”
Behind her, the little girl tried again, but this time, her stout legs failed her, and she dropped onto the deck in a heap. Humiliated, she began to cry.
“Oh, do get up, Clarice,” scolded another girl. “You’re in the way!”
The older children pouted to Louisa, explaining, “She is always underfoot.”
None of the mothers or nurses seemed overly concerned by Clarice’s fall, yet—in unspoken agreement—Giles and Louisa hurried toward her to ensure that she wasn’t hurt. Thankfully, they saw no skinned knees, only a bruise to the child’s pride.
Little Clarice wanted to play like the big girls, though the hopscotch squares were too wide for her legs to jump through.
Louisa took one of the child’s hands. She prodded Giles to take the other. Together, they helped Clarice take her turn, lifting her aloft so that she leaped across the board in a clumsy mimicry of Louisa’s journey.
“One foot,” she instructed the child, brightly and easily. “Two foot. Yes! One foot, and now back! Excellent job!”
After completing her turn, they released Clarice, who gleefully ran to her nursemaid.
Giles and Louisa continued on their promenade, hand-in-hand.
“You’ll be a wonderful mother someday,” he said, reeling from all manner of tender feelings that playing, and teaching, and enriching that little girl had brought forth in him.
She frowned at his words. “In about nine months’ time, I bet.” She rested the glove of her free hand over her womb, where he’d spent himself many times during their coupling.
There was no reason to suspect that shehadn’tfallen pregnant during their honeymoon—that had certainly been the point of his coming to her, night after night, for the sooner she bore his heir, the sooner he could wash his hands of her. He would be free from her.
“Yes, probably so,” he said, “but if you aren’t yet expecting…” He pulled her aside. They quit the main walkway to duck around a corner, shielded from the wind and the view of other passengers. He discreetly confessed, “You needn’t become a mother straightaway. There are things we can do to avoid conception. It’s never foolproof, but we might buy you some time. It would be your decision.”
Why ought it to be her decision, he wondered as he spoke these words that would tie him to her for months, perhaps even years longer than he’d planned. Giles needed a son. He wanted a family, yet Louisa…hadn’t made up her mind on the matter.
She considered his words carefully. “I think I’d like to wait.”
“Of course,” he said. She didn’t wish to be a mother at only twenty years of age. He hadn’t proven himself to be a worthy mate or an honorable father figure to any impressionable youngster.
“Thank you, Giles, for telling me,” said Louisa, blushing. “I didn’t know.”
She’d been kept ignorant of too many things in her marriage, and he intended to rectify that. “It ought to be your choice.”
Her life and health were the ones at risk. The thought of losing her in childbed was a real fear. He could not have coped with losing her now that he was falling in love with her. Wasn’t love doing what was best for the other person, sacrificing one’s wants to uplift the other?
She explained to him her reason for postponing pregnancy, “I want my children to have hot water and electricity, and all the modern conveniences.”
He laughed. “You’ll spoil them.”
“I’ll spoil their papa, too.” She laughed. “I want it to be just the two of us for a while.”
“Yes,” said he, in all sincerity, “I would like that very much.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
She and Lord Granborough returned to their stateroom hoping to rest for a while before dressing for Captain’s dinner later that evening. This was their last night onCampania, as they would arrive in Liverpool by tomorrow morning.
They walked the swaying paneled passages with their fingers laced. His Lordship was fast becoming a gentle, conscientious husband who cared for her opinions and asked for her advice regarding his estate—it was her dowry funding the restoration, after all, and she should have a say in how the money was to be spent. What’s more, Louisa knew that he wanted a family, an heir, yet he put her concerns first and educated her on the finer points of conception. He would help her to postpone becoming pregnant until she felt prepared to become a mother.
