Epilogue
London, June 1819
Sing, O muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.Georgiana translated in her head as Andrew readThe Illiadto their son.In Greek.
She looked up from her work and frowned at the pair sitting in a comfortable chair in their shared office.“Honestly Andrew, I’m glad he can’t understand it.”
Andrew smiled down at the toddler in his lap.“Are you sure?He pays attention.Who is to say he can’t understand it?”Andrew retorted.
“Richard is eighteen months old!He likes the sound of his father’s voice.”
Andrew shrugged.“It getsAeneasused to the sound of the words.”Andrew insisted on calling their son by his middle name, if only to avoid confusion with Georgiana’s brother.
At the name, Georgiana shook her head.She was losing that battle.The boy would be Aeneas for life.“Will and Catherine are hoping for a cricket team.You’re trying to raise a classics department.”
“Not at all.Perhaps the next one will be a physician.”His smile brought color to her cheeks.The next one would make an appearance in December if all went well.
The little one patted his father’s face, rubbing the scar that crossed it, and pointed to the book.Georgiana smiled.“It is a good thing we have a patient child.”
A knock at the door interrupted them.Their butler, Simpson, announced, “The earl and countess are here, Ma’am.I put them in the drawing room and ordered tea.”He didn’t need to specify which earl.It would be the Earl and Countess of Chadbourn.
Georgiana was on her feet immediately.“Have they brought Artie?”
At “Artie,” Aeneas wriggled down from his father’s lap and started for the door.
“They did indeed bring their lad.Shall I have Agnes take the boys to the nursery?”Simpson’s frown, though slight, was obvious.He considered the Mallets failure to employ a nurserymaid a breach of protocol.The Mallets had kept the house in Cambridge, but had settled in a modest townhouse in Bloomsbury.They employed few servants: Simpson, Agnes the maid of all work, and a cook.
“Give us a bit of time, Simpson, but alert Mr.Harley that the boy is here,” she replied.Harley, who remained as Andrew’s personal servant, managed whatever needed doing, and was the closest they had to a nurserymaid.Aeneas adored him.
Andrew swung Aeneas up into his arms and they walked down the hall together.“This is unexpected,” Georgiana murmured.
Andrew nodded.“I expect Will to be tending his fields this time of year; he stayed in London longer this year.It is always good to see them, though.”The distance in the men’s friendship had disappeared with the arrival of their sons.
A quick glance at the faces of Will and Catherine Landrum, the earl and countess, however, made it clear the visit had a serious purpose.
Before anyone could speak, Aeneas wiggled down and ran to his friend.He and Artie Landrum began marching around the room and giggling in some greeting ritual understood only by toddlers.
Will didn’t even watch their antics.“We need to talk, Andrew,” he said without preamble.
The arrival of a tea tray with Harley right behind it delayed any response.Georgiana was once again astounded at Harley’s quick wit and insight.He sized up the atmosphere in the room immediately, gave a sardonic bow, and scooped up one laughing boy and then the other.
“There are new blocks in the nursery, lads.Shall we see who can build the tallest tower.”
Aeneas wrapped an arm around Harley’s neck.“Walls o’ Troy,” he announced imitating his father.His precocious vocabulary never failed to astonish Georgiana.
Harley glanced down at Arty.“What do you think lad?Tower o’ London?”
The door closed and silence settled on the room.Georgiana wished her stomach would settle as well.
* * *
Andrew didn’t likethe expression on the earl’s face.Catherine’s wasn’t much better.
Will glanced at Georgiana.“Maybe we should leave the ladies to their tea.”
“I don’t think—” Andrew started.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Georgiana said at the same time.
