“See that you do not,” Cunningham said. “I would probably feel compelled to do something like coming at you with my fists, and that would be mildly suicidal.”
They both laughed.
“I thought for a while it was going to be your younger brother,” Cunningham said. “He seems a good sort, and they grew fond of each other very quickly when we were still in London. However, I daresay they are too much alike. It is not always a good thing. Camille and I have such a good marriage, I believe, because we are very different from each other. I am always away off in the clouds, and she always has her feet firmly planted on the ground. We are perfect halves to a well-rounded whole. Maybe you and Winifred are another such couple.”
“I believe so,” Nicholas said.
“We will be returning to Bath tomorrow,” Cunningham said with a frown. “You intend to announce your betrothal today?”
“I would rather not, sir,” Nicholas said. “It would seemdisrespectful to the Havilands even though the decision Grace and I made was mutual and amicable. They will be returning to London tomorrow. I was hoping you would postpone your leaving until Tuesday.”
Cunningham looked at him and nodded slowly.
“I daresay it can be arranged,” he said. “I had better go and have a word with Camille to put a stop to any wholesale packing that may be in progress. Moving an army of rowdy children and one dog about the country is no easy undertaking, Colonel Ware. Rather akin to moving a company of soldiers, I would think.”
“That is what sergeants are for,” Nicholas said with a grin as he took the hand that was being offered him. “Thank you.”
Cunningham shook his hand.
—
They would be staying at Ravenswood until Wednesday.
It was Bethan Ware’s birthday on Tuesday, and it seemed she had begged her mama to let the Cunninghams stay for her party out at the lake with a crowd of neighborhood children.
The Havilands left for home on Monday morning, sped on their way by a round of hugs and handshakes and well wishes from a gathering of family and guests out on the terrace.
That evening Sir Ifor and Lady Rhys and their son and daughter-in-law came for dinner. At the end of the meal the Earl of Stratton rose and clinked a spoon against a glass to draw everyone’s attention.
“I have a happy announcement to make while champagne glasses are being distributed among you,” he said. “My brother Nicholas has been fortunate enough to win the love of Winifred Cunningham, a lady who has burrowed her way into all our hearts,I believe, during the last couple of weeks. I invite you to join Gwyneth and me in a toast to the happiness of the newly betrothed pair.”
There was a swell of sound and the clinking of glasses. A few people were genuinely surprised, Winifred thought. Others smiled knowingly and indulgently. She did not believe that a single person at the table—except Nicholas himself—failed to hug her over the next several minutes while exclaiming with pleasure and offering congratulations and good wishes. Nicholas did not hug her because he was too occupied with being hugged himself. Papa was beaming at her, as were Mama and Sarah and even Robbie.
No one treated her as an impostor.
No one protested that she was not nearly gorgeous enough for Nicholas. Or not in any way worthy of him.
No one accused him of robbing the cradle.
Owen, whom both she and Nicholas had told before tonight, grinned at her and winked before he hugged her. “I am going tolovehaving you as a sister-in-law, Winifred,” he said.
“And a friend too, I hope,” she said.
“Goes without saying,” he said.
…a lady who has burrowed her way into all our hearts,the earl had said.
How she hugged those words to herself. It was what she had tried and tried to do and failed to do when she lived at the orphanage. Now, when she had not even been trying, she had apparently succeeded.
She wasnotan impostor.
ShewasNicholas’s equal.
So what if she was notgorgeous? She had never wanted to be. She had only ever wanted to be herself. And it was for that Nicholas loved her and the others had grown fond of her.
During that evening, she learned that the two families—the Wares and the Cunninghams—were really no different from each other in essentials. Family and familial love were more important to them than anything else in their lives.
Dinner was followed by an impromptu concert in the music room next to the drawing room. Sir Ifor played a pianoforte solo with every bit as much skill as he played the organ at the church. Stephanie sang a solo to his accompaniment. Eluned and Idris Rhys sang a duet, also to Sir Ifor’s accompaniment, though Idris protested that the angel that distributed musical talent to every Welsh person at birth had inexplicably missed him. The Countess of Stratton and Nicholas, those childhood friends, sang a duet to Nicholas’s accompaniment. Owen proclaimed a soliloquy fromHamlet, claiming that he had been tortured at school by the necessity of having to learn it by heart and had been unable to forget it ever since.
