CHAPTER 24
Michael arrived at her home promptly at two of the clock to collect her and Edward and escort them to the ducal residence. Instead of his curricle, he had brought the town coach, probably to be able to accommodate Edward and the nursemaid.
Edward was looking very dapper in his new clothes they had procured for him yesterday, and she was wearing one of the new gowns she had ordered that had needed only minor alterations.
She was glad for her attire when Michael did a double take and his eyes flared with undisguised admiration.
It was a wonderful confection of deep rose satin with gold piping that suited her complexion and made her look prettier than she had ever felt.
Ever since her release from the harem, she had been using clothing as a means of blending in and belonging, choosing the most demure of gowns.
After years wearing the loose robes and pantaloons of the harem, she had to admit English clothing made her feel a bit like a fraud.
Like she was impersonating someone she was not.
Yesterday, while shopping with Michael, she had dared to choose gowns that appealed to her.
Oh, they were still demure and proper, but the cuts were more flattering, the fabrics richer, and the colors complemented her better.
The result was she felt more like herself.
She was not deluded enough to pretend the man standing next to her had nothing to do with her choices.
She wanted to look her best for him. Even if she knew it could lead to nothing, a deeply feminine part of her seemed to bloom under his gaze.
Soon they stopped in front of a palatial townhome that dominated one side of a square filled with equally magnificent houses. Michael helped them descend, and she took Edward’s hand as they approached the door of the imposing residence.
They were invited in by a solemn butler who took their outerwear and led them to a comfortable drawing room.
Hannah breezed into the room like a ray of sunshine, followed behind at a more sedate pace by a handsome, dark-haired man carrying a child that was a miniature image of him, except with lighter hair. These must be her husband and son.
“Josephine, I’m so delighted you could come!” Hannah took her hand and kissed her on the cheek. “I have a delightful picnic prepared in the garden because the weather is simply too marvelous to be indoors. But first, let me perform the introductions.”
She turned to the dark-haired gentleman who was shaking Michael’s hand. Placing a hand on his arm, Hannah began the introductions.
“My dear, this is my friend, Lady Josephine, whom I told you about yesterday. Josephine, this is my husband, Gabriel, the Earl of Brentworth. And this little imp is my son, Samuel. He is the Duke of Stanhope, but we don’t call him His Grace, lest it goes to his head. He is commanding enough as it is.”
The child was a duke but his father was an earl? Hannah had said my son, not our son. So this must be her first husband’s, the late duke’s, son. Josephine looked again between the man and the child he was carrying so lovingly in his arms.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Josephine.” There was a keenness and a spark of deviltry in the earl's eyes that told her he had guessed what she was thinking.
She blushed, but the earl went on smoothly.
“I have heard so much about you. Hannah holds you in great esteem, and anyone dear to my wife is also dear to me.”
A pretty speech. Hannah’s husband was as gracious as he was handsome.
“How do you do, Lord Brentworth.” She offered her hand, dipping into a curtsy.
“I gather you already know Aycliffe, so allow me to introduce my nephew. This is Edward, Lord Dunhaven.” Then she leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially, “We don’t call him my lord either. ”
The entire group laughed at the lofty titles of the little ones.
Lord Brentworth lowered little Samuel, who was about the same height as Edward, and the children looked at each other for a couple of seconds before Edward thrust a toy locomotive he had brought into Samuel’s face and pronounced, “Train.”
And that was all the introduction they needed before they scampered off to play.
“Well, that was fast,” Hannah marveled with a proud maternal smile.
“I guess children don’t need introductions, just an interesting object they can bond over,” Josephine added.
At that very moment, voices in the hallway heralded the arrival of more guests.
Josephine tensed for a moment, still uncomfortable with meeting new people.
Until she felt Michael’s hand on her back.
It was a whisper of a touch, not possessive or suggestive.
Merely an offer of support. A reminder that he was here for her.
Warmth spread through her, expanding from the place where he touched her to her extremities and even heating her face.
A gorgeous brunette breezed into the room, followed by a hulking blond man with long hair carrying a tiny girl dressed in delicate pink ruffles and sporting a pretty little bow in her lustrous brown curls that were a shade lighter than her mother’s.
For there was no doubt the child was this woman’s daughter.
The little girl looked exactly like her.
“Abigail, Colin!” Hannah exclaimed, going to greet the newcomers. “You are just in time. Josephine and Aycliffe arrived but a moment ago.”
Josephine approached the newcomers with Michael following close behind.
“This is Lady Josephine, a dear friend of mine from the days of my debut,” Hannah laced her arm through hers and brought her forward. “Josephine, Lord and Lady Hartfield.”
“Call me Abigail, please,” the beautiful brunette said with a dazzling smile, extending her hand.
“And you must call me Colin. We don’t stand on ceremony among friends,” the hulking Viking said, not quite smiling, but his face softened enough to not look menacing. “And this little lady here is Emily, our daughter.”
The little girl was already kicking her legs and leaning toward the boys, eager to be put down so that she could join in their play, so her father obligingly crouched to place her carefully on the floor.
Under the indulgent gaze of her papa, the little hoyden took off after the boys as fast as her short legs allowed.
Josephine was amazed at these people and the way they interacted with their children.
Their obvious love, warmth, and ease with the little ones.
In her experience, aristocrats rarely bothered with their offspring, leaving their care to nannies and nurses.
At least that had been her upbringing. She could not remember one time her father had held her in his arms the way Lord Hartfield—Colin—had held his daughter.
“In that case, you must call me Josephine. And that little blond gentleman over there is my nephew, Edward.” Josephine pointed to where the boys were. “I believe Aycliffe needs no introduction,” she said, pointing to the man at her side.
“Indeed no. I’ve known Michael for nigh on thirty years. Our mothers were friends, and we were of an age.”
“Abigail and I used to get into all sorts of scrapes while her little brother tried to keep up with us. How’s John doing these days? Haven’t seen him in a while.”
“He’s well. Visited us last month. Always going somewhere, but he makes time for his niece whenever he’s in town. Emily has him wrapped around her little finger.”
At that moment a big crash interrupted the conversation and six adults jumped into motion at once. A big porcelain vase had tumbled from one of the side tables to smash in front of the three toddlers, who looked at it with varied expressions of glee, confusion, and distress.
Josephine’s heart jumped to her throat as she realized the cries came from Edward, whose face had crumpled.
She ran toward him, fearing he had injured himself, but Michael was there first, lifting the child, assessing he was unhurt, and then cradling him to his chest, comforting him with soothing words.
“I’m so sorry,” Hannah said, leading her child by the hand. “Samuel has become a little terror to the porcelain ornaments. The first time might have been an accident. But I truly believe he now does it on purpose, for the sheer fun of seeing objects smashed to smithereens.”
“No harm done,” Josephine rushed to reassure her. Under Michael’s care, Edward was no longer crying. He was unhurt, probably just scared by the crash.
“Better we adjourn to the garden, where the little imps will have more space to run and fewer things to break,” Gabriel suggested.
In agreement, they all adjourned to the outdoors, but Michael didn’t set Edward down.
The other two children were walking by their parents, but Michael kept holding Edward in much the same way Colin and Gabriel had held their children when they first entered the room. With ease, familiarity, and… caring.
It was a sight that caused twin pangs in her chest. On the one hand, it almost melted her heart to see him care for Edward.
He would be a great father, and that quality called to every motherly instinct she thought she never had.
On the other, it reminded her of the main reason why she couldn’t marry him.
When he had children of his own, he would be as loving and attentive as Colin and Gabriel. He deserved to be a father. More than that. He needed an heir. He was a duke and didn’t have any brothers to pass the title to. Michael needed a son. A real son of his blood. And she couldn’t give it to him.
And so, she must let him go.
“You don’t need to tell us anything you are not comfortable sharing, of course,” Hannah said some time later as they sat at a table set under the shade of a tree in the magnificent gardens of the ducal mansion.
“But I hope you realize both Abigail and I are the epitome of discretion, and we are perishing to know your story. You mentioned something about living in a harem?”