Epilogue

T

he entire house party from Rutledge, Baron Stanton and his wife, Lady Florence Lloyd-Smythe, Lord Edmund and she and Miles, had traveled to Fairwood so that Miles could show the baron his estate. Several days after their arrival, very early on a soft, sun-kissed, late-summer morning—far too early to expect their guests to arise, Eleanor stood next to her husband, their arms crossed on the top rail of the pasture fence and watched the young horses gamboling in the green field beside their mothers. Some of the mares were already heavy with their next foal. She considered the mares with a particular sense of fondness, feeling some kinship with them as she, too, shared their condition. Initially, she’d put her queasy stomach and dragging fatigue down to over-exertion and too much rich food, but lately, she’d begun to suspect another reason altogether. Her last monthly had never arrived—nor the one before that—though she’d not taken note of their absence until recently. She’d been…preoccupied.

“I believe the new foals should start arriving in late March or early April,” Miles murmured. “Fairwood stud’s first foal crop.” He looked at her with a smile. “Such a wealth of unspoiled potential to nurture and develop. I feel overwhelmed with responsibility.”

She took a deep breath and gazed at the mares. “Perhaps our son or daughter will be as lucky as you were with Badger and a filly or colt will be foaled on their day of birth.” She waited for him to realize the implication of what she’d just said. He remained silent. Straightening, she glanced at Miles and then with a tremulous smile turned to face him.

His face seemed fixed in an incredulous expression of awed delight. “You’re… you’re… oh by god… I’m… that is, we, will be…ah… parents.” Panic erased his delight. “Good lord, I’m too young to be a father. I can’t even manage Ned.”

Laughter gurgled from her. “Finally, I have found something that displaces your unshakeable composure, my lord.” Her voice softened. “Yes. You are to be a father. In April, I think.” Using her fingers to count backwards, she sighed. “Yes, I think April.” She placed a hand on his forearm. “In my opinion—a biased one I admit—I think you will make the finest of fathers for you are the best of husbands.”

He gazed at her as if he had never beheld anything as precious. “My Eleanor. My wife.” He caught her under her knees and swept her up into his arms, twirling her and kissing her until they were both dizzy and laughing. Miles allowed her to slide from his arms and held her until it was apparent she could stand on her own. “Have you told Maman? She will be over the moon.” When she shook her head, he reached for her hand. “We must tell her immediately!” He set off down the carriage way toward the manor house, his strides brisk and long, towing Eleanor in his wake.

Laughing, she protested, “I cannot walk so fast, sir.”

He turned and swept her up again. “Of course not, what am I thinking? I will carry you.”

More laughter spilled from her. “Miles, put me down. I am breeding…not crippled. It is the dress that hobbles me.”

He stopped and looked skyward. “I knew it. I knew it. A father not even five minutes and already I have lost all reason.”

She slipped from his arms and they proceeded to the manor at a more sedate pace. They found the Dowager Duchess, fully dressed, in the kitchen discussing menus with Cook.

“Maman, will you come for a stroll outside with us? Eleanor has something she wishes to tell you.”

Miles’ mother eyed him suspiciously. “Vraiment? Will I be glad of this something, for it is too early in the morning to unsettle my day with worrisome news.”

Miles glanced at Eleanor with a slight smile. “Yes. I believe this ‘something’ will be welcome.”

“Très bien alors. Alright, I will stroll.”

Once out of the front door and down the steps to the forecourt, the Dowager Duchess took Miles’ left arm while Eleanor took his right.

Before they had taken another step, while Eleanor was formulating her thoughts on how exactly to break the big news to the Dowager Duchess, Julia announced, “You wish to tell me you are enceinte, n’est pas? You are in a ‘delicate condition’ as the English say.”

Miles cleared his throat, and Eleanor shot him a quick grimace of question and then peered around him to regard her mother-in-law with bewilderment.

“And, you are pleased, mon cher?” asked Julia.

“Oh, ah, yes. Quite pleased. Ummm…how did you know?”

Julia gave a very gallic shrug. “I am French. We know these things.” The Dowager Duchess exhaled with a happy warble, disentangled herself from her son’s arm and enveloped Eleanor in a smothering hug. “I am delighted with your news. When will my grandchild enter this world?”

“I think… sometime this spring?” She pushed back gently from her mother-in-law’s arms and made a face. “April… if I count correctly.”

“Bien, I will come to Rutledge at the beginning of March. It will be good to see your maman and the Earl again. You should request your friend, Lady Florence Lloyd-Smythe—”

“Wait…again?”

“I heard my name mentioned.” Lady Florence paid the porch steps unusual attention as she made her way down to join the trio. “Why are you up at the crack of dawn and what is it you should request of me?” She smiled through a yawn. “I’m all agog…or as agog as one can be at this ungodly time of day. Lord Miles, you are familiar with the hours the civilized world keeps. Cannot you break Eleanor of this loathsome habit of rising at dawn?”

Eleanor snorted. “Well…hardly dawn, Florence. It is coming on half-past eight. The sun has been up for a good two hours. I’m afraid I shall be rising even earlier than ever, though. Children are wont to rouse their parents at all hours with no regard for time of day.”

Her friend blinked as she gazed at Eleanor and finally murmured, “Children? You?”

“In April.” Eleanor beamed at her friend. “I think.”

Florence blinked more, did an about-face and announced as she ascended the steps she had just come down, “I cannot deal with such earth shattering news before I drink some coffee and the hour is more advanced. I will be in the family dining room attempting to awaken my muzzy brain.”

The three of them watched as Lady Florence disappeared back through the front door, and then burst into laughter.

“She is not suited to country life, I think,” commented the Dowager Duchess.

“No. Not in the slightest,” Eleanor said. “It is a testament to our friendship that she visits me at all.”

Miles cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t know about the two of you, but I, for one, could do with some coffee—or a stiff brandy. Shall we join Lady Florence?” He held out his arms for Eleanor and Julia.

The three of them entered the family dining room to see Lady Florence standing before one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the forecourt and carriage drive. She held a cup of coffee to her mouth. Pausing mid-sip, she peered more closely through the window. “Are you expecting visitors, Lord Miles? There are two disreputable and rather dangerous looking military types riding down the center of the carriage way just a bold as brass.” She stepped closer to the window and abandoned her coffee to a side table. 

All four stood looking out windows at the figures riding up the approach to the manor house, their weary horses moving at a dragging walk.

“Should you remove all the dirt and dress him in clean clothes, the one on the right would be tolerably good looking. I do believe the gentleman on the left is hurt as he looks to come off his horse at any moment.” She turned from the window and addressed Miles. “Do you know them, or are they more military strays come looking for work?”

As Miles uttered a “Good lord!” the Dowager Duchess gave a small cry of distress and flew from the room.

Miles turned to an inquisitive Lady Florence and a puzzled Eleanor. “I’ve only met him one time, but I think the man on the left is Major Leland Abernathy. The gentleman on the right is my half-brother, Lord Duncan.”