Though she couldn’t help but wish Baxter had been just a little more ungentlemanly. Although their lips had touched, it was not much more than a quick brush of skin and hardly befitting a “first kiss.” Thus, in the past twenty-four hours, they’d come close to an embrace and been thwarted twice.
Unacceptable.
But the word “patience” flashed into her thoughts again, reminding Hettie that they had time enough to sort things out. There was no need to rush it. Yet she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like. She’d seen others kiss, but that touch of skin wasn’t like a clasp of hands or anything else she might’ve experienced. A proper embrace must be far superior, yet she still didn’t know how.
“Are you blushing, Aunt Hettie?” asked Louisa with a smile.
Despite having only just married into the family, clearly the young lady was quite comfortable leaping into the fray alongside the others, for the others quickly latched onto that. And for all that Hettie had just brushed aside the teasing, she couldn’t quite do so after her thoughts had strayed into indelicate areas. Flustering others was far more difficult when one was flustered oneself.
Victor rose from his seat and joined his sister on the sofa, patting her knee. “I am glad to see you so happy.”
“At least someone is,” she murmured.
“Pardon?”
Hettie shook her head. As much as the goings-on with Baxter’s children were unpleasant, there was no need to dredge that up now and poison her family’s feelings against them. That wouldn’t be helpful.
“Ignore me,” she said. “I am simply glad you all approve of Mr. Baxter.”
“YourMr. Baxter?” asked Alice with an impish grin.
Hettie scowled as she knew her niece wished, though beneath that facade, her heart leapt at the truth of the matter. He was, indeed, hers. Just as much as she was his. Dearest Baxter. And if at least one of their families was happy for them, it would be easier to face the coming trials.
Thankfully, the conversation drifted from her and her beau, though Hettie’s thoughts remained on Baxter. Of course, they were always on the man, and that was unlikely to change in the near future. He was firmly imprinted on her heart—and rightly so. The more she knew him, the more she loved his quiet ways and selfless heart.
“She is sighing again,” whispered Louisa, sotto voce.
And so the teasing began again, continuing with more fervor when they discovered what Hettie was sewing.
A maid appeared in the doorway, and with a bob, she came to stand before her master. “Please, sir, Mr. Baxter here to see Miss Stillwell.”
That did nothing to quell the riotous comments, though her family had the good sense to quiet themselves before the man in question was able to hear them. Rising to her feet, Hettie greeted him with a grin, though it fled at the sight of his troubled expression.
“Your daughter?” she asked, barely daring to ask the question.
“Well, for now,” said Baxter, and Hettie’s lungs drew in breath once more.
“Do not scare me so,” she said, pressing a hand to her middle as she strode over to greet him. “What is the matter?”
“I am hoping you might be of some assistance.” Baxter’s words were a little unsteady, his gaze darting at their audience.
“Ignore them,” she said, waving a hand toward her errant family. “Whatever you need. Simply say it.”
Baxter shifted. “My daughter is hoping you might visit. Assist her.”
“She is?” Hettie’s brows rose at that, for of all the things he might’ve asked, she had not anticipated that request.
With a heavy sigh, he rubbed at his forehead. “The midwife says all is well, but I fear my daughter-in-law is being a tad…”
“Overbearing and controlling?” asked Hettie in a wry tone, for she could well imagine young Mrs. Baxter doing just that.
“Charity is not comfortable with me or her brothers at her bedside, and I fear I wouldn’t be much help at any rate, but she desperately needs a strong ally, as she has no friends in town and her husband is halfway around the world. She said you had assisted others through the process, and she hopes you will do the same for her. We both do.”
“The poor dear,” said Hettie with brows pulled low. To face such an ordeal without the comfort of a mother or friend was unthinkable, and there was only one answer she could give to such a petition. “Of course. I will do what I can for her.”
Turning to the maid, she called for a portmanteau to be packed and sent to Mr. Goswick’s home, and then she made for the door with Baxter on her heels.
***
