Page 64 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

“And tea.”

Once the door closed, Nash drew the covers off Arabella and ran his hand over her slight belly. He bent and kissed her stomach. “Good night, little one. Soon you will become part of the most peculiar family in all of Christendom.”

Arabella’s brows rose. “Only Christendom, my lord?”

He smiled her favorite crooked smile, warming her heart. “Give us time, my love, just give us time.”

Epilogue

September 1820, Clarendon Townhouse, London

“Sweetheart, calm down. The dinner party will be fine. You have everything all planned out. Please don’t fret.” Nash pulled Arabella into his arms, trying desperately to soothe her. Perhaps, given her condition, he should not have allowed her to take this on, but once they’d returned from the country, she had insisted she could do it.

This time a full month had gone into the planning. He had suggested she summon her mother from Bath to assist, but Arabella declined, seeming to want to prove something. Either to him or herself.

He had joined her in her bedchamber, where Sophia was putting the finishing touches on her hair. Arabella looked beautiful, her pregnancy giving her skin a creamy glow. Her slight belly showed beneath her pale rose gown, reminding him that once this party ended, they would be heading back to Clarendon Manor.

Parliament had recessed, and he was anxious to get Arabella away from the hot, humid London air. He swore every day the smell from the Thames got worse. He would have to give some serious thought to the future. As much as he enjoyed serving in Parliament, he was reluctant to bring his family back to Town. He’d learned from their short separation that living apart was not for him.

They spoke of their trip back to the country as they descended the steps to the drawing room. Nash poured a brandy for him and a sherry for Arabella. They had only just taken their seats when there was a loud screech, followed by shouting. A small critter raced into the room with one of Arabella’s cats chasing the thing. Behind them was one of the downstairs maids waving a feather duster in her hand.

“My lord, catch the cat,” Arabella hopped up and shouted.

“Catch him?” Dear God, he was dressed for a dinner party, and his wife wanted him to catch a cat? One look at the frantic look on Arabella’s face was enough for him. “Certainly, I will catch him.”

“Her.”

“Yes. Of course.” The critter and the cat had vanished under the settee, so Nash got down on his knees and looked, only to have the mouse run at him. Startled, he jumped back and landed on his arse. The mouse ran around the room, the cat on its tail. The maid climbed onto a chair, screeching to raise the dead. The mouse stopped and hovered in the corner near the window. Just as Nash lunged at the cat, the obviously terrified mouse raced toward him and up his body. A loud wail came from the cat, robbed of his treat, who sailed through the air and landed on Nash’s chest.

The cat’s claws latched onto Nash’s cravat, where it hung long enough for him to sneeze several times. He pulled the cat free and let him go.

“I got him!” Quinn stood at the door, his hands cupped around the mouse.

Arabella stared at Nash wide-eyed. “Oh dear.”

“What?” He sneezed again.

“Isn’t this how it all started?”

Nash pulled on the cuffs of his shirt and dusted off his waistcoat. “Not quite, my love. We’re missing the mud.” He drew out his handkerchief and blew his nose.

“My lord, Lord and Lady Slade have arrived.” Quinn still held the mouse in his hand. The cat had given up the chase and sat patiently licking herself.

Straightening his cravat, Nash walked up to Arabella, extending his aristocratic arm. “Are you ready to greet your guests, my love?”

Arabella stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. Resting her hand on his arm, she shook her head. “My lord, you are as addlebrained as the rest of us. Welcome to the club.” She smiled as they walked toward the entrance hall, Lord and Lady Clarendon, their heads held high, ready to greet their guests.

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Acknowledgments

No book would be complete without input and knuckle rapping from my fabulous editor, Erin Molta. I could never do it without you.

As always, the wonderful authors from the Beau Monde RWA group are so helpful when I’m stuck for a word to use, or need information on the Regency period.

I love the support from my family, who leave me alone when they know I’m struggling, and my daughter who stops in my office every morning after her nightshift and shares her very humorous sarcasm with me. I’ve used many of her one-liners in my books.