The harshness in his face eased, his shoulders sagging. “She does. And I did not want to take Olivia away—take her affection—away from Rose in these last few months. Doctor Oakley has told us both it will not be much longer. Olivia needs this time with her.”
“Does Olivia know?”
“She knows her grandmother is ill. She seems to understand that Rose will not improve, but I do not know if she grasps what that means.”
“That’s a hard concept for a child her age. My Robbie was eight, and it still took him a bit to fully understand. William still does not truly understand that his father is dead. He just knows he is not around.” She touched his arm. “You must be tender with them both.”
“I am trying.” He moved toward her, his gaze soft as he took her hands. “I do not have a great deal of experience being tender. Yet.”
“This does not surprise me, growing up as you did in a household of so many boys.” She paused. “Yet?”
He nodded. “I believe you could change that. Would you like to join that household?”
Judith stilled, as did Mark. He blinked first, his cheeks reddening. “Um... I had not meant to say it quite like that.”
She chewed her lower lip a moment.Was he truly asking...“How had you planned to say it?”
The red deepened. “Something incredibly romantic, foolish perhaps. Appropriate to a rake who has discovered he has lost his heart to a child and a woman at the same time.”
“Maybe in the nursery then, among the toys.”
“You are the one who has proclaimed all children precious.”
Tears blurred the corner of her eyes.He could not be...“So I will come in second place to a child?”
Mark reached for her hands, folding both of them into his and kissing her fingers. “No, my dear. Olivia may have won my heart, but you will always and forever be my first choice—for my life. For my world.” He kissed her, a soft brush against her swollen lips. “For my wife.”
Epilogue
Two Years Later
Saturday, 25 May 1816
Blackthorn Park, country estate of the Earl of Sculthorpe
Half-past ten in the morning
“Come on, William!Stop dawdling!”
Judith watched from her bench in the garden as Olivia twisted in her saddle, urging William to drive his Highland Pony a little harder toward the back of the property. Olivia’s pony—a sturdy, plodding mount—also moved with a constant steadiness, ignoring her urging for more speed as well. But she had gotten a head start on William, who had been helping the groom saddle his pony, his eyes squinting as he approached the task with a determined precision.
Over the past two years, as William had become more judicious and studious—like his brothers—Olivia’s contagious energy had urged him into ever more adventurous play. William had ridden far longer than Olivia and had the better seat, but she maintained more control. Her cleverness seemed to spark livelier every day, especially since they had asked Mr. Thompson to take her on as a student as well. The two had become remarkable, devoted, and mutually beneficial friends.
Mark, observing the children from a more agile and restless steed, called out instruction to both, correcting their posture and handling of the horses, as they rode away.
Judith’s heart swelled as she watched her family, bundled up in their woolens even in May, their faces red, eyes bright. In the strange, unrelenting cold of the year the breaths of children and ponies fogged around their heads like clouds.
As the sounds of children and horses—and her husband’s voice—faded, Judith tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders and turned her attention back to the letter she had been composing for the past three days, following the receipt of one from Mark’s sister, Daphne, who had returned from Greece the past Christmas with a surprise in tow. Now the Rydell family experienced an unfamiliar turmoil and division. Their stubbornness and pride fueled a rift that could not stand. Judith felt it in her bones; family was far too important to let this go unanswered. But any resolution would require tact and diplomacy.
Judith read both letters again—she had to make this reply absolutely perfect.
Dear Daphne,
I truly enjoyed meeting you and Sophia this past Christmas. I had not realized that Mark had not told you about me—or Olivia—or I would have contacted you sooner. No one should come home to find so many brothers unexpectedly married, some with children already running about. As I love all my family beyond reason, I hope that you and Matthew especially can make amends in the future. I realize that as head of the family, he takes his responsibilities seriously, but I also know he loves all his siblings without reserve.
Until then, please feel free to write me at any time with questions, and I will return the favor by offering as much information as possible. I have already broached with Mark the idea of us visiting you and Sophia once you have settled at her estate in Yorkshire.
I am not sure, however, how many details I can offer. Since Mark, William, Olivia, and I have retired to Blackthorn, we do not see London much nor the rest of the family. You know that Sarah and Matthew had their Robbie (named for your father) last year. Sarah is with child again, with the arrival to come later this summer. Mark is forever grateful to have shed his designation as Matthew’s heir and seems rather content these days with the horses and the business of the Blackthorn estate. Like you, his disdain for London Society grows ever stronger the longer he is away. And this seems to be a family trait. Timothy, of all people, has traipsed off to America, and Paul has retreated to your family’s country property. My Robbie and George have done well this term and will spend this coming summer here.
