“Dress shopping,” she says, unceremoniously taking his glass before handing him the baby. She knocks back his dram and smiles at Lord Havenfort before whisking Bobby out of the room.
James sits there blinking, a squirming baby in his arms. “Um,” he says, looking down at Frederic’s scrunched little face.
“You’ll get used to them over time,” Lord Havenfort promises.
“Right,” James says, smiling down at the baby. “Right, they’re loud and chaotic, but we love them, don’t we?” he asks.
Lord Havenfort laughs, and James looks up, blushing. Babies do something to the brain, he’s decided.
“I want you to know, I would never leave Gwen in the position my uncle and stepfather left Lady Havenfort,” he reiterates, meeting Lord Havenfort’s eyes. “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell my aunt, but it was deplorable what was done to them, and I want to apologize to her, and to you, on behalf of my family. I promise to do much better by the title, and by Beth as well.”
Lord Havenfort opens his mouth—
“That is lovely to hear, and truly unnecessary,” Lady Havenfort says, approaching the desk on shockingly quiet feet. Maybe that’s where Beth gets her stealth.
Albert, on the other hand, plops into Bobby’s vacated seat with a satisfied sigh, making James nearly fumble the baby in surprise.
“Though I appreciate the apology, it isn’t yours to give, nor is it yours to atone for,” Lady Havenfort says, sliding along the desk to stand next to Lord Havenfort.
“That’s what Beth said,” James admits. “But I still wanted to say it.”
“Well, my daughter is a bright young woman,” Lady Havenfort says with a smile. “All I ask is that you be a good husband to Gwen, a good friend to Beth, and be the partner Bobby deserves, and we’ll never have a problem.”
“I will,” James promises, that gooey, warm feeling back in his chest, accompanied by something soft and needy from his childhood, like squeezing a teddy bear so tightly its head might pop off.
“I’ll drink to that,” Lord Havenfort says.
Albert raises his glass as well. “Hear—”
“We’re leaving!” Gwen calls out.
Lord Havenfort snorts, Albert laughs, and Lady Havenfort looks up at the ceiling, shaking her head. “Well, that’s my cue.”
She leans up and kisses Lord Havenfort, patting his cheek before smiling at James and Albert. She presses her lips to her fingers and brushes them over baby Frederic’s forehead before striding out of the room, her call of “I’m coming!” ringing around them.
They listen to the commotion of the girls, and Bobby, preparing to leave, and James looks down at baby Frederic, who has slept through it all. Clearly, he’ll do well in this family. Maybe they can be the quiet ones within the chaos together over the years. Though now that he thinks about it, James doesn’t find himself missing the quiet of Epworth anymore. He’s happy to be surrounded by laughter and chatter and... love.
Albert and Lord Havenfort begin discussing next year’s parliamentary agenda, but James doesn’t listen, too caught up in every little movement baby Frederic makes as he sleeps. That wistfulness creeps over him again.
“Cunningham thinks there could be an amendment made,maybe to follow the Medical Act, about standards for childcare in orphanages,” he hears Albert say.
It’s absurd that it’s taken him this long to think of it. “How many children at the Foundling Hospital need a home?” he blurts out.
Lord Havenfort smiles, something knowing in his eyes. “I think you should speak with your fiancée about that. She may have some ideas.”
***
He might pace a trench into the floor of the small vestibule. Even the marble cannot possibly withstand his nerves. Of course he’s excited to see Beth and Gwen in their gowns, and Bobby in his new suit. But he wishes they could just get the ceremony over with, and the reception afterward, and head to Dover, now.
Beth and Gwen would probably kill him, given they’ve spent the last three weeks in a tizzy, excited and frantic in equal measure, planning with Aunt Cordelia, his mother, and Lady Harrington. He’s mainly been shunted from one meeting to the next. Parker’s community has come together, and their cooperation has presented numerous business opportunities none of them had previously considered. He’s been having discussions with Parker, Cunningham, and new business associates just as often as he’s sat with Albert and Uncle Dashiell discussing matters of parliament.
He’s barely seen Bobby. And now that he’s waiting to enter a church to marry Gwen, he’s more than a little miffed that Bobby is late. The narrow, stained-glass window above him throws beautiful patterns of colored light across the stone floor and he kicks at them, antsy.
He’s about to storm into the nave, and maybe mingle, just forsomething to do, when the doors to the vestibule burst open and Bobby tumbles inside.
James gapes as Bobby rights himself and closes the doors. He spins around and all of James’ ire melts away in the face of Bobby, resplendent in his custom black suit, the single-breasted white waistcoat beneath his tailcoat hugging every inch of his chest. His bow tie is just a smidge crooked, and his hair in disarray from what James imagines have been a few passes through with nervous fingers. He looks absolutely perfect, and every single ounce of James is melting, fast.
“Here,” Bobby says, hurrying up to him and thrusting his hand out at James.
