“The boy’s father is a French count,” Charles said. “My stupid pride kept me from trying to convince you.”
“In the end, I didn’t really care if the boy was yours. As long as you were good to him.”
Charles jumped up at the knock on the door. “Here’s Dr. Jacobs. There was no time to send for Chapman, but I approve of how this doctor treated Hanbury.”
The doctor came in with Lilly following. “Twice in one day, Your Grace? I hope I shan’t see you again for a while.” He walked over to the bed. “Well, Your Grace, you’ve taken a fall off a horse, I’m told.”
“She’s with child, doctor,” Charles said.
“Might be best if you allow me to examine her. Will you assist me, Lilly?” He opened his bag.
“Please, Charles, do go away,” Nellie implored him.
“A footman will be outside the door, Doctor. Should you require me, please send word when you have completed your examination of Her Grace.”
At the impatient look from his wife, Charles left the room.
*
Charles and Nelliestood in the village church to act as witnesses as Feeley and Lilly were wed. Charles gazed down at his wife. She was radiant at the good news that her baby was growing nicely. His mother was thrilled.
Nellie’s mother and father had written to express their delight and hope for a boy.
A happy man, Feeley vigorously shook Charles’s hand. “I am indebted to you, Your Grace.”
“I shall never have another valet like you,” Charles said with absolute truth. “You will be missed.”
Feeley chuckled. “I will miss working for you, Your Grace. Indeed I will, but I’m a married man.” He cast a warm eye at Lilly, who looked pretty as a picture with flowers in her hair. “And a married man has obligations.”
“Be a good husband, Feeley,” Charles said. “I wish you well in your new life.”
Nellie kissed Lilly goodbye. She was wearing one of Nellie’s pelisses and had several other items of clothing in her valise. The couple climbed into the trap, which would take them to the inn. In the morning, they would board the stagecoach for Liverpool and take the boat to Ireland.
Nellie waved goodbye.
“Have you engaged a new lady’s maid, my love?” Charles asked. “Barlow tells me you’ve been inundated with applications.”
She tucked her hand in his arm as they strolled over to the curricle. “None of them appealed. Mrs. Bishop, the lady who runs the village store, has a daughter, Lucy. She is a nice girl, Charles, and very willing to learn. As she is keen to go into service, I’ve decided to engage her.”
Charles nodded and smiled to himself.
Epilogue
Shewsbury Park
July 1816.
Thumb in mouth,Bartholomew John Charles, Marquess Pembroke, rolled around the blanket and uttered a discourse on the state of things in general, which made sense only to him.
Nellie cast an indulgent smile at her dark-haired son. “He shall be a great orator in the Lords.”
“But of course,” Catherine said from her wicker chair, smiling from beneath her parasol. “Like his father, but with his mother’s spirit and sense of fairness.”
Nellie smiled up at her. “And his grandmother’s benevolence.”
Peter barked at a raven stalking the grass. It flew onto the branch of a chestnut tree and mocked the dog with a cry, watching him with its yellow eyes.
“Have you heard from your sister, Lady Belfries?”
