"I'm proud of you," she said, kissing the tender spot above his heart.
"Don't be proud until tomorrow," he huffed. "They'll be lucky if I don't stop the bloody train."
* * *
The train sat
at Greystowe Station, a dusty black denizen of the modern world. Steam puffed from its stack as it took on water and coal. Every now and then its whistle sounded a mournful double toot.
Good-bye,
it seemed to say.
Goodbye. Good-bye.
Florence
longed most heartily for it to stop.
"I still wish you'd stay for the wedding," she said, hugging Freddie so tightly he pretended to choke. Edward waited a few steps behind her, giving them room for their farewells.
"I know you wouldn't mind," Freddie said. "I, however, shouldn't like the scandal of my presence to distract from your day."
"But I'd far rather you gave me away—instead of my father's old lawyer."
Freddie pushed her back by the shoulders.
"Now, now.
Mr. Mowbry brought you and Edward together. What could be more appropriate?"
"But I'll miss you," she said, feeling his absence already. Freddie hushed her with two fingers of his
neatly gloved hand. He smiled affectionately at her pout.
"Remember what I told you, dearest. You and Edward must get to the business of siring heirs. I expect
no less than half a dozen named after me."
"Half a dozen!"
"Oh, yes," he said airily. "Freddie, Frederica, Fredwina, Fredward—and I'll leave the other two to you."
"You are too foolish for words," she said, smiling past her heavy heart.
He straightened the brim of her feathered hat. "I'm counting on you to be foolish in my stead. My
brother mustn't be allowed to sink into dourness while I'm gone. Of course, since his sense of humor is extremely primitive, that shouldn't prove too great a trial."
Edward snorted behind her, but neither
Florence
nor Freddie paid him any mind.
"I shall do my best to cultivate some silliness," she said.
"Good," Freddie responded, his eyes abruptly brimming. Rather than let himself spill over, he blinked hard and squared his shoulders like a soldier on review. "I shall look forward to hearing of your
progress. If you like, I'll send explicit instructions on filling his slippers with jam."
This was enough for Edward.
"You're filling her head with nonsense," he said, his voice gruff, his arm dropping warmly around her shoulders.
Freddie chucked her chin before turning to him. "Take care of her," he said. "Remember, she was my sweetheart first."
The brothers exchanged a long, memorizing look. Edward's eyes were serious and Freddie's twinkled,
but
Florence
knew each was recalling what the other had meant to his life. Finally, Edward thrust his
hand into his pocket.
"I have something for you," he said, and brought out a familiar disk of gold. "
Your
first swimming prize. I've kept it all this time. I thought you might like to have it."
Freddie opened both hands so that Edward could lay the medal and ribbon across his palms. "Edward!" he exclaimed, caught between shock and laughter. "If I weren't already, your gift would completely unman me."
"You'll always be a man," Edward said in his gravest voice. "You've proved that more times than I can count."
Freddie covered his eyes and shook his head, more than male enough not to want to cry in front of his sibling. Obviously embarrassed, Edward squeezed his shoulder and stepped back to make room for
Aunt Hypatia. Her farewell was punctuated by hugs and barks of laughter. At last, Freddie tore himself away and joined Nigel on the steps of the first-class carriage.
Edward shook hands with his former steward and again with his brother, and then the train chuffed slowly away.
Florence
broke into a run before the car could leave the platform. "Winifred!" she shouted, waving her handkerchief wildly at Freddie's window.
"Fredalia," he countered, waving wildly back.
At that, she gave in to tears. She cried all the way home, cuddled close to Edward's chest. She cried at dinner at the sight of Freddie's empty place. She cried when she found the rose he'd left on her pillow, and again when Edward snuck into her room in the middle of the night.
"What a watering pot!" he declared, gathering her in his arms. "Keep this up and I shall leave you in
the garden for the flowers."
But
Florence
knew better than to believe he was annoyed. Freddie was worth the tears. Besides
which, she suspected comforting her kept Edward from crying himself. Throwing himself into this
very important duty, he rocked her in his lap and crooned under his breath and finally kissed the last
tears from her eyes.
"We've been given a gift," he said. "One few people are privileged to know. Freddie wouldn't want us
to be sad."
"No," she agreed, dabbing her nose with his best silk handkerchief, the one that had mere minutes ago peeped neatly from the pocket of his robe. The sentiment was so sweet, and the mention of gifts so unwittingly apropos, she almost welled over again.
Edward laughed at her sniffle and hugged her closer. "
Florence
,
Florence
,
Florence
. Where would I be without you to melt my heart?"
Florence
didn't know, nor did she care to find out. With an extra flutter to her pulse, she pressed her
hand to her belly and lifted her gaze to his. What she found there made her smile even more than the secret she'd been cradling to herself all week.
"Edward," she said, her grin breaking free, "I've been wondering if you'd mind very much if we'd started a little Frederica already."
He blinked at her,
then
let out a whoop that probably jolted half the staff out of their beds. "Mind?" he said, tossing her into the air until she shrieked herself. "No, I don't mind,
Florence
.
Not at all."
She hadn't caught her breath from landing before he was kissing her senseless, murmuring love words
and stroking her belly with a reverence that made her think motherhood might be very nice indeed.
She had taken the greatest risk a woman could and was now facing the consequences, despite which she had not felt a shred of fear since the day the possibility had crept into her mind. She had hoped, she had bubbled with suppressed excitement, but she had not feared what would become of her. Married or not, no woman would be as cosseted as the woman who bore Edward's child. Add to that the love that
glowed so steadily in his
eyes,
and
Florence
knew this baby would be infinitely more than a seven-month surprise.
This baby would be a gift, a gift they gave and a gift they received; full no doubt of mystery, but
wrapped in adoration.
"Are you well?" Edward asked, suddenly stiffening with concern. His big warm hand spread protectively across her womb. "No sickness? No fatigue?"
"I was only sick once," she said with a quiet laugh for his alarm. "
Which gave me the notion I might
want to start counting days.
"
"And your tears," he eagerly put in. "They say women are more emotional when they're with child."
"That they do."
He didn't see her amusement. He was too busy examining the unchanged curves of her body.
Or almost unchanged.
When he cupped her breast, a deeper pang of sweetness streaked through her flesh.
"Just imagine," he mused, his fingers strumming the sensitive peak. "A little Frederica we can cradle in
our arms."
Florence
's toes curled pleasantly at his caress.
"I don't know," she said, her own hand beginning to wander. "For myself, I'm rather partial to Fredward...."
EPILOGUE
Traveling with the
earl was an education.
Florence
knew her husband possessed many admirable traits, but she'd never guessed he had the patience of a saint. One of them certainly needed it, for Frederica
was their companion on the trip. At two, she had her mother's green eyes, her uncle's charm, and her father's stubbornness of mind. Today she seemed convinced she could hasten the horses by bouncing more vigorously on her father's knees. Edward winced but grinned, as if nothing could be more
delightful than a pummeling by one's child.
"Settle down,"
Florence
urged, stroking her daughter's wispy golden hair. "Your papa needs his knees
for later on."
"Papa, Papa, Papa!" Fredi shrieked, not calming in the least. This chortle was followed by a new bit
of intelligence. "Gween," she announced, pointing out the window of their big rented coach. "Look,
Mama.
Pwetty gween!"
"Yes," said
Florence
.
"Very pretty green."
Her daughter was correct in her judgment, if not her pronunciation. This area of
Bordeaux
was indeed beautiful: lush in its late spring growth, picturesque in its rambling village, and pure magic in its old chateaux. The coach's high wheels rumbled down a sandy road where glimpses of the
Florence
pulled her daughter back into her lap.
"Soon?" said Frederica, cuddling close in one of her quicksilver changes of moods. "Soon we see
Uncle Fwed-die?"
"Yes,"
Florence
assured her, kissing her warm, round cheek. "And then you, Madame Stickyfingers,
will get a good wash."
"Stickyfinga," Fredi giggled,
then
subsided with a yawn.
"Why," Edward demanded, "does she always sleep for you?"
"Because I am smart enough to let you wear her out."
Edward returned her grin with a smile so warm it could still bring tears to her eyes. Their life had been rich in warmth since their marriage, an event that caused less comment than she'd feared, due to the timely exposure of Charles Hargreave's affair with Millicent Parminster and his subsequent abandonment of his wife to a castle in
Scotland
.
Poetic justice, according to Hypatia.
Florence
was simply glad her husband's old mistress chose to take her aunt along for company.
With scandals like this to entertain the peerage, the surprise evoked by Florence Fairleigh marrying the older rather than the younger Burbrooke was mild—especially when the newlyweds proceeded to live
so quietly. A pair of stay-at-homes, society clucked, little imagining what the earl and his countess were getting up to.
Florence
smiled at the memory of those days. Despite society's disapproval of their domesticity,
Freddie's absence was mourned more deeply than theirs. Those few who guessed why he'd left kept
quiet out of respect for— or, in some cases, fear of—the formidable earl and his equally formidable aunt. The consensus seemed to be that Freddie could do what he pleased, as long as they were not forced to know about it. Society being what it was
,
she expected this was the best reaction they could hope for.