Chapter Five
Broadmere Hall echoed with shrieks of laughter, excited squeals, and babbling toddlers. Merry loved it and couldn’t imagine enjoying her birthday any other way. The entire family always reunited on birthdays, celebrating each other with unfettered chaos and love.
With nannies at the ready to sweep them back up to the nursery, the nieces, nephews, and extended family of Merry’s brother-in-law’s eleven-year-old twin siblings took over the parlor, enjoying treats, toys, and banging on the pianoforte.
The family dogs yipped and barked at the din, and every cat disappeared, seeking peace and quiet.
Poor Chance looked ready to seek peace and quiet, too, as he stood off to the side, talking with his brothers-in-law.
Merry held Joy’s nearly two-year-old son, Lion, on her lap, helping him destroy a slice of lemon cake. Tired of patiently waiting for her to feed him the next bite, the lively cherub dove forward and grabbed the treat with both fists.
“You must shovel faster,” Joy said, laughing at her son’s antics. She rose from her chair with the aid of her jeweled cane, a linen ready to help with the mess. “Lion, we must use a fork, or Auntie Merry will be sticky from head to toe.”
“Messy, messy, messy,” said five-year-old Rorie—Merry’s sister, Blessing, and her husband Thorne’s eldest child. “You’re going to get us all sent back to the nursery, Lion.”
“No one is going to the nursery,” Merry assured her young niece. “At least not for a while.”
“I can hold him.” Her brother-in-law Wolfe’s little sister, eleven-year-old Sissy, held out her hands to take him.
Sissy’s twin, Connor, rolled his eyes. The poor boy was obviously quite bored. “I should be with the men. After all, I am eleven now.”
“They are right over there,” Merry told him, shooing him away with a smile as she handed Lion to Sissy. “Off with you.”
Walters, their ancient butler who refused to retire even though he had fully trained his replacement, Fipps, shuffled toward them, struggling to dodge all the children.
Merry hurried over to meet him before he toppled over with his efforts. “Would you like some cake, Walters?” she asked loudly, knowing the poor man to be deaf as a post.
He stared at her, his bushy white brows knotting over his watery eyes. “Cake?”
“Yes, lemon cake. Felicity made it.” She hooked her arm through his and helped him safely make it to the table. “Sit with us. Since it is my birthday, I make the rules, and I rule that you sit and enjoy some cake with us.”
Waving away her command, he backed up a step and nearly trod on a dog’s tail. “I cannot, my lady. That is not done.”
Spotting Fipps nervously watching from the doorway, Merry realized he was attempting to afford Walters some pride and allow the man to do the job even though the dear old soul could barely remember his own name on a good day.
“Is there something you wish to tell me?” Merry asked the ancient butler, wondering what it could possibly be. The entire family had arrived. There was no one left to announce.
Walters stared down at the floor, scrunching his face in an effort to remember.
He slowly nodded. “Yes, my lady.” Tapping his chin with his gnarled, bent fingers, he narrowed his eyes, then turned and looked back at the doorway.
“A guest.” He didn’t smile, but he did appear relieved. “Your guests have arrived.”
“My guests,” she repeated. Everyone was here. No other guests had been invited. Perhaps Walters had imagined someone’s arrival?
She glanced over at Fipps once more and arched her brows in a silent plea for help. None of them had the heart to force Walters into retirement. He had been with the family since before they were all born, so they had all agreed to make allowances for him. He deserved their patience and respect.
“Who might my guests be, Walters?” she asked.
“Men.” The aging butler nodded, then cast a pained look back at Fipps and motioned him forward.
Only then did Fipps cross the room and join them. “Yes, Mr. Walters?” he quietly asked.
“Announce Lady Merry’s guests immediately. Why would you tarry so and keep them waiting?”
“Forgive me, Mr. Walters.” Fipps bowed, treating Walters with the gentleness and respect for which he had been hired.
Then he turned to Lady Merry. “Lord Kirkston and his brother, Lord Malcolm Galloway, are here to see you, my lady. Lord Kirkston wished to leave once he realized they had interrupted a family gathering, but Lord Malcolm was most adamant that they stay and at least let you know they were here.”
Her heart did a little hop of joy that made her clap a hand to her chest. “By all means, show them in, Fipps. They are most welcome to join us.”
As Walters and Fipps left the room to fetch the men, she hurried back to her sisters at the table. “He is here!”
“Who is here?” Blessing asked as she wiped her youngest child’s hands, then released the two-year-old to join the others.
“Lord Kirkston.”
“Who is Lord Kirkston?” Fortuity, another sister, stretched to watch the doorway.
“One of the gentlemen who saved our lives,” Serendipity said with a knowing smile. “And our Merry finds him most enchanting.”
All six sisters united in a chorus of aahs.
“Stop it,” Merry told them, then clamped her mouth shut as Fipps led the men across the sea of children, toys, and dogs. Unable to keep from smiling broadly, she curtsied. “Welcome, Lord Kirkston, Lord Malcolm. It is so nice to see you both again.”
With a leery glance around the chaotic room, Duncan bowed. “It is our pleasure to be here, my lady, and it does my heart good to see that yerself and yer sister made it safely home through the snow.”
She wouldn’t gloat and remind him that she had known all along that they would be safe. No, she would be gracious. After all, the poor man looked as though he’d just walked through the gates of hell. She couldn’t stop herself from grinning.
“Come meet the family.” Without waiting for him to offer, she looped her arm through his and stepped over an army of toy soldiers. “Mind the battlefield, my lord. Quill and Rorie have declared war upon one another.”
Duncan grunted and stepped carefully while Malcolm maneuvered around the obstacles with the agility of a cat.
When they reached the table, she reluctantly released his arm. “Sisters, this is Lord Kirkston and his brother, Lord Malcolm Galloway.” She pointed at the head of the table. “You remember Serendipity?”
Both men nodded and bowed. “Forgive the intrusion,” Duncan said, looking ready to bolt. Malcolm grinned, appearing to find great joy in his brother’s discomfort.
“No intrusion at all, my lord.” Serendipity waved the other men over. “You have evened the odds for the men. They will be most grateful.”
Nodding at Chance, Merry said, “My brother, the Duke of Broadmere. Chance, these are our champions from the storm, Lord Kirkston and his brother, Lord Malcolm Galloway.”
“Your Grace.” Duncan dipped another polite nod.
“I owe you a great debt of gratitude for saving my sisters. Welcome to Broadmere Hall.” Chance cringed as one of the children squealed. “Currently, the seventh level of hell.”
Malcolm laughed, but Duncan looked as though he agreed.
Wishing she could think of a way to ease him into the clutches of her large family, Merry soldiered on with the introductions.
“Next is Blessing, and the man behind her chair is her husband, Thorne—Lord Knightwood. Next to her is Fortuity and her husband, Matthew—Lord Ravenglass. Next is Grace and her husband, Wolfe, the Duke of Wolfebourne. Then there is Joy and her husband, Jansen, Sir Jansen Winterstone. And last but far from least is Felicity and her husband, Drake, Lord Wakefield.”
“What about us?” demanded five-year-old Rorie with grave indignation.
“Line up in birth order, and then I believe it is nursery time.” Merry hated to send the children away, but one could hardly hear oneself think with all the noise.
The oldest children groaned but grudgingly lined up as requested.
Merry named them off, one by one: “Connor and Sissy, Rorie, Quill, Remy and Gwynnie, Ross, and Lion.” She smiled at her sister Felicity. “And our next little niece or nephew shall be introducing himself or herself later this year.”
Serendipity rang the bell beside her glass on the table. “Nannies!”
Grace snapped her fingers at the six dogs milling around the room with the children. “Go with the babies, my loves.”
“We are not babies!” Rorie corrected her, her little face a thunderous storm cloud.
“Come along now,” eleven-year-old Sissy said. “If we misbehave, we won’t get to play in the parlor anymore.”
Once Sissy and the army of nannies successfully herded the children and dogs from the room, Merry waved Duncan and Malcolm to the table. “Do join us, please. We have delicious lemon cake, lemonade, ratafia, and much more to come.” She so wanted the men to feel welcome, most especially Duncan.
Malcolm took a seat and made himself comfortable.
As stiffly as if his clothing had been overly starched, Duncan sat on the edge of a chair. Merry slipped into the seat beside him.
He immediately turned to her with a pained look. “Again, I am so verra sorry. We should have stayed at the inn and sent over a messenger to find out when would be an appropriate time to call.”
Pleased that he was actually here, Merry boldly took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I am glad you are here.” She couldn’t help but smile as she glanced at the disarray of the room.
“I know it must have felt as though you stepped into the middle of a storm, but now you’ve met all of us—and all of us are grateful to have you as a guest.” She squeezed his powerful hand again, noting how hers disappeared in his.
It made her feel safe. Leaning in close, she lowered her voice. “I feared I would never see you again.”
“Ye wished to see me again?” he asked just as quietly.