Laura smiled. She drew in a deep breath of the familiar salty air laden with fresh, fishy odors. She washome.
The sea caressed the granite banks of the causeway as the carriage crossed. At the stables, the dogs erupted through the door with joyful barking. Laura left Nathaniel to greet them and to speak to the groom. She entered the house, gazing at everything anew. Even Rudge, standing impassively at the door, appeared a little lessimplacable.
Realizing she was hungry, Laura hurried to change for dinner. “Did you enjoy the trip, Agnes?”
The maid’s eyes were like saucers. “Never knew a city to be so big, milady! I prefer Wolfram. I’d get lost up in those parts!”
She laughed as Agnes shook out the green silk taffeta. But after slipping the dress on Laura, the maid struggled with the buttons. “It seems a little snug, my lady.”
“Can you tighten the corset laces?”
Agnes tugged at the strings on Laura’scorset.
“Oh, stop. I can’t breathe. This dress has never fitted me well. That might be why I seldom wear it. I’ll wear the gray, Agnes.”
She’d been aware of the corset pinching. Was she putting on weight? Her pulse picked up as she began to count. What with the trip and the illness, had she lost track? She couldn’t be. Her last monthly courses were just before she left for London. But might she have fallen pregnant on the last night she and Nathaniel were together? Laura stilled. A baby? She clasped her hands together as hope and joy spread through her, her first thought to run to Nathaniel. She spun away from the mirror. She couldn’t disappoint him. She must besure.
“Milady?” As Agnes held up the dress, Laura made the decision not to tell him until she was certain. But how perfect a homecoming it would be. She hugged the thought to her with asmile.
That evening when they lay together, Nathaniel was tender, as if he already suspected she might be with child. But of course, he couldn’t know. When she woke in the morning, he slept beside her, his arm resting over herwaist.
Thrilled to find him there, she raised herself up on an elbow. “Good morning, darling.”
“Good morning, my sweet.” A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and his gray eyes smoldered. He reached for her. “Mmm. You smell delicious, all warm and rumpled. What have I been missing?”
She cradled his face and kissed him, hopeful of having crossed some invisible barrier and put past hurts behindthem.
Later, walking through the park, Laura breathed in the cold, salt-laden air with relish. The dogs had joined her and rooted about in the deep drifts of paperyleaves.
Reaching Cilla’s gate, Laura ordered the dogs home. Obedient, they turned and ran off as sheknocked.
Cilla opened the door dressed in her painter’s smock. “Laura! You’re home. I’ve been busy. I plan to have these ready for my exhibition.”
A testament to her hard work was stacked along the walls: canvases bursting with an explosion of bright color in a freer style, which Laura had never seen from her before.
“They’re extraordinary.” Laura turned to Cilla and laughed. “You have a daub of violet paint on your nose.”
Cilla smiled and rubbed at it. “Look at you, you are positively blooming.”
Laura flushed, remembering what had recently taken place in her bedchamber. When she and Nathaniel had tarried over breakfast, she’d told him more about her trip. She decided not to mention the letters Dora found, afraid it would destroy the peace and happiness of the morning, but she fully intended to draw him out concerning his grandmother and the neglected estate when the time was right. But right now, she enjoyed that he was happy. His prized mare was in foal. Laura considered burgeoning life in the stables to be apt. She resisted hugging her stomach and prayed she was withchild.
Cilla eyed her. “Where have you gone off to, Laura?”
“I’m sorry.” Laura smiled. “I was woolgathering.” She wandered along the paintings, each one more striking than the last. “I’d like to buy one of these.”
“I don’t think they’re suitable for Wolfram.”
It occurred to Laura that Cilla would want to show them all in London. “If not all are sold, of course.”
“I could paint your portrait?”
Laura thought of the magnificent one of Amanda that had once hung over the fireplace. “No. You’re too busy.”
“I’ll find time. It would make a nice present for Nathaniel.” She frowned. “He will employ one of the renowned portrait painters to paint you both when his heir arrives.”
Cilla looked so disgruntled that Laura rushed to reassure her. “I know he would love a portrait of me painted by you. If you do have time, I would love it too!”
The more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed. The temptation to hang a portrait in the library to rival Amanda’s both chastened and amusedher.
