Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Jessamine threw herself into planning the christening. The entire purpose, aside from officially giving William Andrew’s name, was to eradicate any lingering rumors about his origins or what his place might be in their family.
Thus, unlike her wedding to Andrew, she arranged it to take place in a large church close to Westminster itself, and invited many members of the ton as guests.
Her friends, of course, along with Lord Mirthby as the other godfather, but also other lords and ladies to whom they wished to introduce William.
It was paramount that the world knew who he was and accepted him as such.
Having so many attendees be in support of them all would only help.
Once this was over, she hoped the only rumors would be ones about how dedicated they both were to William, and how wonderful it was that they had adopted his deceased cousin’s child to be his heir.
Nothing more. Nothing else.
Certainly no mention of Rebecca.
On the day of the ceremony itself, Jessamine dressed in the gown she and Andrew had selected together, staring at her reflection in the mirror. So long as William did not regurgitate any milk on her shoulder—not a certainty—then she would look like the most gracious of duchesses.
“You look lovely, Your Grace,” her maid said, giving her curls one final bounce and stepping back, heated curling irons in her hand. “Everyone will think you are the most beautiful duchess.”
She didn’t want the world to think she was the most beautiful duchess; she wanted Andrew to think that. But considering the fact he had been ignoring her since that wonderful, awful, terrible kiss, she doubted he was much inclined to be impressed by her beauty.
Lucy came in carrying William, and Jessamine took him, the nursemaid following behind as she descended the stairs. Andrew was already there, checking his pocket watch and scowling.
The scowl fell away as he beheld her for the first time.
A little of Jessamine’s nervousness fell away at the sight of his upturned face, a little of his shock slipping through. And some of that same emotion she had seen on him when viewing her in this dress for the first time.
Heat splashed through her as she recalled his mouth on hers, the urgent way he had pressed her against the tree as if he wanted nothing more than to consume her.
At least he did still think her pretty, even if he wanted nothing more to do with her.
William gurgled in her arms, and she glanced down at him, smiling at his tiny, perfect little head. “There now,” she cooed. “What a smart, strong boy you are.”
When she next glanced up at Andrew, his expression was inscrutable once again. “Shall we go?”
“The church awaits.”
His hand grazed her lower back, and she bit back a shiver.
Jessamine looked out of the window during the carriage ride to the church, and once inside was thankfully too preoccupied with holding William and allowing the service to go ahead that she had no reason to look at Andrew and wonder what that expression on his face had meant.
Or worse, in the church, remembering the explosive response her body had to his kiss. And how much she had wished she could feel it again in the intervening days, even though she knew it was not what they had entered the marriage for.
He was a distraction. She both wanted nothing more to do with him and wanted everything to do with him.
Lord Mirthby stood on her left as they were announced to be William’s godparents. He held the child willingly, and when William regurgitated milk across his shoulder, he merely gave a wry smile. “Well, I confess that I never have been a particular favorite with my valet.”
Jessamine decided she liked Nicholas very much.
Once the ceremony ended, all the guests had been invited back to her home with Andrew for a garden party. Jessamine handed a grumbling William to Lucy so she might feed him on the carriage ride home.
Once back, he went into his nursery for a nap and Jessamine and Andrew ventured out into the garden.
This time, when he offered his arm, she took it. This was now a public event, and they must put on a united front. “If anyone asks you why you were so eager to adopt another man’s child as my future heir rather than your own,” Andrew said, but she shook her head.
“I can defend my own decisions.”
“But for a child whose parents you supposedly didn’t know—”
“All is answered if one believes I love you. Then, all things are possible.” She shrugged. “You, too, are adopting another man’s child to be your heir rather than one of your own blood. The same question might be directed at you.”
He paused, his brows descending over his eyes. The garden had been set up for a picnic, with blankets and parasols set up across the sweeping lawn, and a game of croquet a little further away, the mallets in a neat line beside the small hoops.
The guests were about to arrive.
“We will be fine,” Jessamine said, surprised by her need to reassure him. “There will be rumors; we already knew that. All we need to do here is convince them that those rumors are wrong, and the best way for us to do that is to defend William ourselves.”
Andrew nodded slowly.
Then there was no more time for conversation. Irene and Henry arrived first, with all the pomp and ceremony that a duke and duchess ought to have when arriving at an event. The other guests filed in shortly afterward. Jessamine smiled until her cheeks ached, standing beside a stiff Andrew.
No doubt joining the army had done very little for his social graces.
For the first time, Jessamine understood that these ton events might not be familiar territory for him, just as they were still new and unfamiliar for her.
They were both out of their comfort zone, doing what they could for William’s sake.
Irene drew her away as soon as possible. “What a wonderful service. And William behaved himself so well!”
“What about the whispers?” Jessamine asked, glancing at the people all around. “Are they satisfied, do you suppose?”
“Well.” Irene shifted uncomfortably. “There are some comments, of course. Some speculation.”
“Show me who is speculating, and I will show them what for,” Jessamine said fiercely.
“Much as I would love for you to put their assumptions back in their face, I suspect a lighter hand is needed here.” Irene smiled apologetically. “This is not Scotland any longer. Society responds better to a light hand.”
“A light hand? When they are the ones speculating at William’s origins?”
“Yes, dearest. You have already done an excellent job with christening, but now you and the duke must show everyone that there is no resentment between you, and I will discuss how generous you both are, and how tragic it is that William’s real parents died the way they did, before they could ever meet their son. ”
“Perhaps you ought to make it plain that Andrew and his cousin were close?” Jessamine suggested. “I will do the same, of course.”
“Of course.” Irene winked. “We will have the world convinced in no time. Now go and smile at your husband adoringly.”
Jessamine rolled her eyes, turning to where Andrew and Lord Mirthby appeared deep in conversation. At her glance, Andrew turned halfway toward her, and it seemed almost as though his eyes were warm and soft.
“Well,” a loud voice said from behind them. “All I’m saying is that it’s odd. A lady marries a duke and immediately adopts a child that isn’t hers to be the duke’s heir? And you are telling me the boy is not his?”
“Poor girl,” another voice said. “She must be so humiliated, celebrating her husband’s by-blow like this.”
“And where is the mother?”
“No doubt she was not important enough to marry,” the second voice said, her tone snide.
Jessamine whirled, but before she could say a thing, Andrew came to stand beside her, his hand grazing her back. This time, she leaned into his strength.
“Excuse me,” he said, perfectly pleasantly.
“Forgive my intrusion, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conjecture on my adopted son’s origins.
Let me put one thing straight.” His tone hardened like steel, and his eyes turned flat and hard.
“He may not be my son by birth, but for all intents and purposes, he is mine, and I will protect him as I would protect any son of mine. His father and I grew up together, and it is my honor to be able to celebrate his life, ended too soon, by adopting his son. If you think that I could not do something like that, I believe it reflects rather more on you than on me. Would you not adopt a child of your relative’s?
Would you not make them your own? Why should William grow up as second-best within the only household he has ever known? ”
He stepped closer to the little gaggle of gossiping ladies, and if possible, it seemed as though he grew in size and menace.
“I understand these are unusual circumstances, ladies, but I will not let future comments slide. Do I make myself clear?”
The ladies cowered. The leader, a lady in her forties with a beaked nose, raised her chin to lock eyes with him—then glanced away. “Our apologies, Your Grace. We had not wished to offend.”
“My son is not a suitable recipient for your curiosity,” Andrew said. “Take your speculation elsewhere.”
“Yes, Your Grace. We are very sorry.”
Andrew turned away, and Jessamine took his arm, squeezing it in gratitude. He glanced down at her, and his hand covered hers briefly.
The first hurdle had been crossed, and with remarkable ease.
Jessamine had a suspicion the remainder of the day would go a lot more smoothly.
Andrew sipped at the wine in his hand. Jessamine stood a little further away, her sister by her side, and Lady Marwich beside them both.
Jessamine laughed, her head thrown back.
He wished he could have been by her side, that he could have been the one to make her laugh—and then shook away the thought.
This was precisely why he didn’t need any distractions.