The words were out there. His wife had just fully admitted her attachment to the child. Yes, it was obvious, but to hear it from her was a different thing altogether.
As for Melody, her eyes were wide, and her smile was bright. It was the look of someone who fully trusted them.
And that filled his heart with both warmth and dread, for he himself struggled to think what his and Victoria’s life would be without this child.
Chapter Twenty
“You’re going to spoil little Melody, Victoria,” Richard remarked. He was far too happy to mean it.
They were eating bacon and eggs, white bread with butter, and tiny pastries. Most of the ton would normally eat their breakfast leisurely, but both of them were used to rushing because of their individual personalities. Today, though, they did try to take their time to savor not just the meal but also the conversation.
The duke found it amusing that his wife would fidget in the breakfast room as if she wanted to bolt at any time. With Melody in the same room, however, it was different. She was more relaxed and anchored. More willing to stay and enjoy a luxurious breakfast as it should be enjoyed.
It was the same for him. He would have otherwise been preoccupied by the morning papers or an urgent ledger. However, these days, one would find him more at ease in his mahogany chair, carefully slicing his food, or letting his coffeecool. He used to turn his nose up at the leisurely life he often associated with the rest of the ton.
Victoria was on the rug, not caring if her purple silk morning gown would be wrinkled or stained. She was too occupied with Melody, who was propped up using soft pillows and plush wool in a wicker Moses basket. She kissed the baby’s belly, blowing a raspberry against it. The baby let out an appreciative laugh.
It was only then that Victoria turned to Richard to reply, “Melody deserves to be spoiled.”
She said the words with a spark of mischief in her eyes, but he still could not help but feel a pang. She would be a good mother to their future children, but it would be unfair to Melody and those future children if they tried having them now.
“You may deny it, Richard, but I believe you agree with me. I saw you peeking through the nursery door yesterday. Why didn’t you come in?” she asked, giving him a soft smile.
“Oh, that,” Richard began, clearing his throat. He inspected the soft, golden butter on his bread as if it were the most fascinating invention in the modern world. “I was merely inspecting each room for the annual inventory.”
Victoria burst out laughing, and the duke could not help but smile. He’d made her laugh. She had been happier as of late. He wished he could do more.
“You were watching Melody. You know that you can play with her, too. I assume you meant to give her that little rattle to chew on. Why else were you skulking about with it in your hand?” she teased.
“The rattle was for her gums,” he explained. “She has been fussing more lately.”
“That’s true.”
Mrs. Hughes was nearby, watching quietly and ready to assist whenever needed. It was a setup that was not usual, but had become the new normal for the fledgling family.
There were days when Richard completely forgot to think about his mission to find Melody’s mother. Whenever he did remember, he dreaded the idea of letting go of the baby.
He now knew that Victoria would be devastated.
Victoria now referred to the days after her mother’s unwelcome visit as The Golden Days. The period marked the best days of her life, one where she didn’t have to concern herself with what other people said. With the dowager marchioness out for a while, possibly recuperating, she felt the bliss of a prolonged honeymoon, without the consummation.
The house seemed to breathe with life, not just because an actual baby now lived in it. Victoria dabbled with the piano in the afternoons, not quite as good as Daphne, but Melody was a happy enough audience. Fresh flowers adorned the rooms. Even the kitchens felt transformed, constantly smelling of warm milk and spice tea, the comforting aromas replacing the previous sterility. The best thing about it all was that she and Richard no longer felt strangers to each other.
At night, the servants would retire, and Melody would be safely tucked in the nursery with Mrs. Hughes on close watch. The couple would head for the library, which served as their sanctuary with its scents of leather and beeswax. Victoria also liked to believe that the place cradled her scent and his.
On this particular night, Richard picked up a slim volume of poetry, which surprised Victoria. He often read political tracts while she read delicious but sublime Gothic novels to rattle her nerves.
“Are you reading for me?” she asked, as he proceeded to flip some pages and straighten his back. He had also glanced at her a few times.
“If you would let me,” he said quietly.
“I will not say no to a reading, Richard,” she reassured him. “I would love for you to read The Mysteries of Udolpho for me on a dark and stormy night, but I would also love to hear poetry from you. It will at least tell me what you like to read when you’re not being boring.”
Richard chuckled and clutched his chest as if he was hurt by her words. Then, he flipped one more page and began reading. The words were not spoken with much drama as some would, but they were spoken with an even baritone that gave Victoria goosebumps.
She forgot about her own book, her fingers still lodged between the pages. The words sometimes became the clearest things in her mind, and sometimes they just blurred as she watched his face intently instead. It was a wonder how the fire from the hearth captured the sharp lines of his face or lightened some parts of his dark hair. She felt the need to see more of the strands in daylight and feel them again in her hands. Desire sparked as her thoughts went to moments where she did just that.
Richard had large but gentle hands and a deep but sensitive voice. When there was a need for it, he defended her. Protected her. Her family connections were meant to protect him, but so far, he had been doing a wonderful job of being the protector.
