Chapter 13
David stepped gingerly through the crowds on Oxford Street, a walking cane in one hand and Timothy’s tiny hand in the other.
Clarissa completed their little party, flanking Timothy, as they made their way past modistes, milliners, bookstores, and boutiques to Honeyfield’s Toys and Trifles.
Timothy practically vibrated with excitement as he walked between them.
“Mama, are we there yet?” He beamed at Clarissa.
Was David ever going to get used to Timothy calling her that? It did funny things to his insides every single time, despite his having had two weeks since the wedding to get used to it.
“Just one more block.” Clarissa’s radiant grin back at Timothy nearly made David look away.
Being this happy seemed…unnatural. He wasn’t accustomed to it.
There was still a part of him that was convinced his good fortune would crumble at any moment, but he’d promised himself—and Clarissa—that he would try his best to have faith in good things.
Nonetheless, he was grateful for the dull throb of his injured leg.
It convinced him he hadn’t been abducted by fairies or drugged with laudanum.
Love and contentment would take some getting used to, and he was glad to have something bothersome to mar the perfection of the moment.
Otherwise, it would simply have been too much.
Their destination came into view, and Timothy broke out of their hold to run and plaster his face against the storefront window.
Looking at it and letting the anticipation build was half the fun.
At that moment, it was decorated into a diorama of a toy parade with no detail spared.
A breathtaking variety of dolls, stuffed animals, tin soldiers, and marionettes stood in orderly rows with ingenious miniature instruments affixed to their hands.
At the front of the parade was a stuffed bear the size of Timothy riding the very hobby horse his son had been pining for.
The horse sported a festive red bow. A painted backdrop of cheering children on a bright summer’s day completed the scene.
Timothy bounced on his toes as he took it all in, wide-eyed.
Clarissa threaded her arm through David’s as they stood behind Timothy, basking in his obvious delight. Unaccustomed warmth and joy spread through him at her touch.
“I’m so glad we were able to do this before we left for the countryside.” The scent of lemon and bergamot stole over him as she leaned close.
He breathed her in, enjoying the way her proximity addled his senses like a fine brandy. “So am I.”
“I know you’ve been itching to get out of the house. I’m sorry the doctor made you stay in bed so long.”
“I’m not.” He gave his wife a smoldering glance.
Spending two weeks in bed with Clarissa had done wonders for his outlook on life, not that the doctor would have approved of how they spent the time.
He had been supposed to rest and recover, and he’d done some of that.
But how was he supposed to behave himself in the company of his lovely, eager, affectionate, new bride?
Ravishing his wife was ever so much more fun than dull, boring recuperation.
And the injury was a mere flesh wound. He’d had worse, and recovered in much rougher circumstances.
But bed sport was far from the only thing he enjoyed with Clarissa, delightful as it was.
She read him the most outrageous stories, filled with action, adventure, and more than a little romance—the sorts of novels he would never have picked for himself in a million years.
The books made their own misadventures sound almost dull by comparison.
In the evenings, she played the piano, and they sang together. Sometimes, even Charles joined in. Somehow, the miserable house he’d grown up in had filled up with joy, and his family was a proper, loving family for the first time he could remember. And he had his wife to thank for all of it.
“Papa, Papa.” Timothy tugged on his sleeve. “Can we go inside?”
David chuckled. “Why do you think we brought you here, silly goose?”
It was a good thing he’d brought a fat purse with him. He knew he was going to leave Honeyfield’s with it significantly lighter.
Timothy grabbed Clarissa’s hand and bounded through the shop door with her in tow.
Mr. Honeyfield greeted them as they entered, dusting the wood shavings of his latest creation from his canvas apron. “Timothy, Lord Whitcomb! My very best customers. How delightful to see you both!”
Crouching down so that his round spectacles were level with Timothy’s eyes, Mr. Honeyfield asked, “And who is this you’ve brought with you today, young man?”
Timothy giggled and squeezed Clarissa’s hand. “This is my new mama, Lady Clarissa Whitcomb.”
The old man’s busy white eyebrows raised. “Lady Clarissa? The Duke of Wellington’s daughter?” He peered up at Clarissa. “I seem to recall you were once very fond of stuffed bunnies, just like this little fellow here. You wanted company for your pet rabbit. What was his name?”
David was doing a very poor job of holding in his laughter. “Mr. Bunnykins, perhaps?”
His wife turned the most adorable shade of pink. “Yes, that’s me. And I’ll have you know Mr. Fluffy, Miss Cottontail, and Lady Rabbiton were the best friends Mr. Bunnykins could ever have.”
“You like bunnies too?” Timothy hugged her arm so hard that it was a wonder she didn’t fall over.
She grinned and wrinkled her nose. “Love them.”
“My new mama is the best mama there is!”
Mr. Honeyfield patted Timothy’s cheek and stood up. “Felicitations on your nuptials, my lady. Don’t let this grump fool you.” He pointed his thumb at David. “He has a heart of gold.”
No, he didn’t. He had a heart of flesh and blood just like anyone else’s, and it was beating fit to burst as he gazed at his beautiful family.
“Thank you, Mr. Honeyfield. He does.” Clarissa smiled at the elderly toymaker and nodded her head. “Now, Timothy, what shall I buy you today?”
Timothy dragged Clarissa off to explore the shop, breathlessly describing every item they passed as if she couldn’t see it with her own eyes.
David laughed and shook his head. “I should just hand you all the money I have right now. I’m certain she’s going to buy him half the store.”
Mr. Honeyfield chuckled. “Just like you do every time you come in here? You truly are my best customers. I took my wife on holiday to Bath last month, thanks to you. I’m very grateful for your continued custom.”
“Mmm.” David pretended to be rueful, but he was in heaven watching Timothy drag Clarissa around the shop. When they’d left after spending approximately twice what he’d planned, and Timothy proudly riding his new hobby horse, David wasn’t sorry in the least.
Later that afternoon, he settled into the new, pale blue armchair Clarissa had purchased for the drawing room and put up his feet.
She’d been remarkably efficient at replacing the baroque monstrosities that used to furnish the space.
The hideous wallpaper still remained, but the room had already brightened with her additions.
He picked up one of her outlandish novels, The Redemption of Rodolfo, and began to read.
The hero was about to rescue a much-beleaguered heroine who was dangling from the side of a moving carriage when a quiet snicker made him look up.
“Interesting choice of reading.” Charles settled onto the new chesterfield with his usual insouciant grin. “Lady Whitcomb’s recommendation?”
“I’m an invalid. I’m allowed to read whatever I want.” This was far more interesting than the books on crop rotation and animal husbandry he usually read. “After all that has transpired, I deserve a little fun.”
“Do my ears deceive me, or did my big brother just defend a man’s right to fun?” Charles crossed his arms and leaned forward with the most irritating, self-satisfied smirk that David had ever seen.
“You think me incapable of fun?” David put down the book and sat up straight, glaring at his brother with all the stern censure he could summon.
Charles guffawed. “Yes, indeed I did. At least until Lady Clarissa joined our happy little family.”
The breathy insinuation in his brother’s tone as he mentioned Clarissa made David want to jump up and grab the rogue by the lapels. Unfortunately, his injury prevented any such thing, so he had to settle for scowling. “I won’t hear a word against my wife, you unrepentant scapegrace.”
Holding up his hands, Charles made a conciliatory moue. “Au contraire, mon frere, I like your wife. I think she’s done worlds of good for you.” His brother’s expression turned serious. “For all of us, really.”
David frowned. “Oh? What has Clarissa done for you?”
Charles stared down at the carpet, a sudden vulnerability in his usually cynical expression.
“She introduced me to someone who may be able to help me turn over a new leaf. I’d like to, you know.
You may not believe me, but I’m tired of my dissolute life.
I’ve harmed the people I care about most.” He glanced up at David and then back down at the carpet.
“I don’t know how to change, but perhaps the man she introduced me to can show me the path. ”
That was all rather mysterious, but David sensed that this moment of uncharacteristic candor mattered.
He needed to respond carefully. “I’m happy to hear you’ve found someone you trust. I know I’m hard on you sometimes, but it’s only because I care a great deal.
If there’s anything I can do to help, you have only to ask. ”
“Thank you, but this is something I need to do for myself. I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t still be relying on my big brother to get me out of scrapes.”
If David thought his heart was full before, his brother’s quiet commitment made it overflow. His voice was rough with affection as he said, “I respect that, and I wish you well.”
Charles nodded without looking up. “Thank you.”
They stared at opposite walls, avoiding each other’s gazes. Neither of them were very good at emotional moments, especially not with each other.
Charles cleared his throat. “Did you hear about Effingham? I know you’ve been avoiding news of the outside world, but I thought you might want to know.”
“Oh?” David still wondered if he’d made a mistake having Clarissa burn the evidence of the man’s perfidy.
“The curate turned on him when he didn’t get paid.
He’s facing charges for bribery and blackmail, and he’s been sent to prison to await trial.
Rumor has it he was glad to go, as the debt collectors to whom he owed money were after him.
I don’t think we’ll be hearing from him again for a very long time. ”
That was very welcome news indeed! “I’m glad to hear he’s gotten what he deserves.”
“Who has gotten what he deserves?” Clarissa wafted into the room hand in hand with Timothy.
“Someone we both know whose name I’d prefer not to speak in this house.” David rose from his seat with a groan.
“No, don’t stand up!” Clarissa ran to his side and gently tugged on his arm.
“When a gentleman can’t stand in the presence of a lady, he’s lost all dignity,” David grumbled, but he let her settle him back in his chair, enjoying the sensation of her touch a bit too much.
“Pish tosh.” She took a seat in the chair beside him. “There. I’m sitting too now, so you can stay in your chair with your dignity intact.”
Her tone of command was so like her father’s in that moment that he wanted to laugh, but he didn’t dare. Their gazes met, and warmth suffused him.
Charles took Timothy’s hand. “Come, let’s go play horsey in the garden. I don’t know about you, but I have no desire to watch these two make calf eyes at each other.”
Timothy squealed in delight. “Horsey time!”
With swift movements, Charles hoisted Timothy onto his back and galloped out of the room, neighing.
David and Clarissa both laughed at the sight. Left alone, he reached out his hand. Clarissa took it and raised it to her lips, sending delicious tingles all through him.
“You were right all along. Things truly did turn out for the best. Perhaps your good luck is rubbing off on me.” It was hard to believe, but he’d never been so content in his life.
“I told you I was lucky. And I was right about us being a love match too.” She kissed his hand again. A man could get used to this kind of treatment.
“Don’t be too smug about it. Things could always take a turn for the worse.” He tried for a teasing smile to let he know he didn’t mean it.
“Never. As long as you and I are together, we can face anything.” Her loving gaze made it impossible to hold on to his accustomed pessimism.
“Very true.” Looking into her lovely green eyes, he knew his heart had found its home at last. Whatever the future held, their love was strong enough to withstand any challenge.
Her sunshine lit up the dim twilight of his curmudgeonly soul, and he would be grateful for it to the end of his days.
Love might have been a loser’s game, but sometimes losing one’s heart was the best thing that could ever happen.