“I’m afraid the scarring is extensive,” Dr. Pearson said with a long exhale, removing the frightening-looking instruments he’d used to examine Marigold.

She lay on her back on top of the bed, her legs propped awkwardly on pillows so that Alex’s friend could perform his examination. Dr. Pearson’s assistant hovered in the corner of the room, ready to assist. It had been a strange, embarrassing, and awkward examination, but Alex sat on the bed with her, her back supported against him, holding her hands to reassure her. He seemed to trust Dr. Pearson—or Lord Helm, she wasn’t sure which title took precedent—so she swallowed her fear and told herself she should as well.

As soon as Dr. Pearson shifted her skirt back into place and stood, walking to the wash-table to scrub his hands and instruments, she pushed the pillows aside and sat as demurely as she could in Alex’s arms.

“Was it that bastard Miller’s fault?” Alex asked in a resentful growl, holding Marigold close.

Dr. Pearson frowned, finished scrubbing his hands, then turned to them. “I believe it was. To attempt any kind of examination or so-called treatment on a woman in the midst of miscarriage is incompetent at best and barbaric at worst. And going by what you’ve told me about the resulting infection, one can only assume this Dr. Miller is woefully uneducated about Dr. Lister’s advancements in sterilizing medical instruments or the use of carbolic acid before examinations or surgeries.” He was clearly furious at the thought.

Caught between two men fuming over the blatant incompetence of a third and the consequences that incompetence had wrought on her, Marigold sighed. “What’s done is done,” she said, pulling out of Alex’s arms and standing.

Weeks had passed since the first day she’d gotten out of bed, August had given way to September, and the misery she’d first felt at her body’s new, useless state had faded into a dull ache deep in her gut. The same way that Alex still winced and complained of weakness and an ache in his left arm when it rained, even though his bone had healed and the splint and sling had been removed.

“I am truly sorry,” Dr. Pearson said, drying his hands.

Marigold sent him as much of a smile as she could manage, considering how embarrassing it was to be around him, now that he’d examined her in such an intimate way. She liked Dr. Pearson. She had the feeling he was the sort of man everyone liked. He was tall, and in spite of being slightly older than Alex, his blonde hair had only faded a bit, and the lines around his eyes indicated he was the kind of man who smiled often. His shoulders were broad, and his physique that of a man half his age. She could see how he and Alex were friends.

“So there’s nothing at all that can be done?” Alex asked, standing and moving to Marigold’s side to take her hand. “No surgery or treatment that you can devise to reverse the damage Miller has done?”

Dr. Pearson shook his head as he unrolled his shirt sleeves. “I’m afraid not. I deeply regret telling you that the damage is permanent.” His look of sympathy was so genuine that Marigold found herself wanting to console him instead of the other way around.

“I’ll have Miller’s license revoked,” Alex growled. “I’ll make sure he’s run out of town, that he never practices medicine again. I’d string him up by his—”

Marigold rested a hand on his arm to stop him. “There isn’t any other doctor nearby to help locals with their sniffles and fevers. If you banish Dr. Miller, they’ll suffer.”

“Then I’ll hire another doctor to take his place.”

Marigold couldn’t argue with that. In fact, she preferred that idea to simply giving up and letting Dr. Miller’s incompetence continue unchecked. But since she couldn’t change what happened to her, she needed to move on to preserve her own sanity.

“We have an exhibition this evening to prepare for,” she reminded Alex.

Alex let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “We do.”

“Exhibition?” Dr. Pearson raised his brow.

“The village children have been putting together a show for weeks,” Marigold said, leading Alex away from the bed and heading toward the door. Dr. Pearson followed. His assistant stepped forward to continue cleaning his instruments. “Ever since they heard I was ill, they’ve been wanting to perform for me.”

“How sweet,” Dr. Pearson smiled.

“They were going to perform in the village hall, but Alex is still anxious about me over-exerting myself.” She sent him a mock irritated look.

He answered it with a lop-sided grin. In the last few weeks, a shift of grand proportions had happened between the two of them. The blazing fire of the first weeks of their marriage had been thoroughly extinguished, but from that, a few embers had survived. Marigold had been certain it was only a matter of time before they went out as well, but after Alex’s refusal to divorce her and marry a woman who could bear him children, it was as if someone had blown on those embers, causing them to grow.

She held his arm as they descended the main stairs into the front hall. “We’d be honored if you’d stay for the performance,” she told Dr. Pearson. “It’s bound to be a treat.”

“Stay the night,” Alex added. “We’ve got plenty of room. You aren’t needed back in London immediately, are you?”

“I’m not,” Dr. Pearson said, looking delighted with the invitation. His smile faded as they reached the hall and walked on through the drawing room and out to the garden. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind staying out of London for a while.”

“Why?” Marigold frowned. Her whole world, up until a few months ago, had revolved around London. “What’s wrong with it?”

Dr. Pearson let out an ironic laugh. “It’s a cauldron of accusations and incriminations this summer, what with the Turpin Maid Case.”

Marigold nearly missed a step as they passed through a set of French doors to the garden patio. “How so?”

Alex looked just as confused as she did. Dr. Pearson glanced between the two of them, surprised. “You haven’t heard?” He glanced to Alex.

“Heard what?” Alex asked, taking Marigold’s arm and leading her along the gravel path that wove through beds of late-summer flowers.

Dr. Pearson stopped and turned to them. “The Turpin Maid case is all anyone can talk about in London. It’s stirred up every kind of scandal you can imagine. Turpin’s name is being dragged through the mud for his treatment of Miss Murdoch. A few other young women have come forward as well, accusing him of inappropriate behavior.”

“I haven’t heard about the other women,” Alex said. The light of triumph shone in his eyes.

“I’m not surprised,” Dr. Pearson said. “You’ve had quite a bit else on your mind.”

“How deep does the scandal run?” Alex asked, continuing down the path.

“Many are beginning to demand Turpin step down from his leadership position in Parliament,” Dr. Pearson said. “Several members of his own party are calling his fitness for office into question. Turpin denies it all, of course, and is spitting mad over the whole thing. He claims the whole story is a fabrication and that there’s no proof of any misconduct on his part, particularly since the maid in question, Miss Murdoch, is nowhere to be found.”

Marigold exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Alex, glad they’d thought to bring Ruby out to Wiltshire. Alex met her glance with equal gravity. She glanced around, wondering if Ruby was nearby with James. It was likely that Dr. Pearson wouldn’t recognize her if he saw her, but the need to keep Ruby safely out of sight was huge.

“Anyhow,” Dr. Pearson went on, “the scandal is bad enough that Turpin has returned to London instead of biding his time in Worcester.”

“Has he?” Alex looked equal parts victorious and anxious.

Dr. Pearson nodded. “He’s kept himself to himself, though. I heard whispers at my club that he was hell-bent on revenge against whomever started the rumors.”

Marigold’s heart leapt to her throat, beating as furiously as the butterflies in her stomach. As far as she was concerned, Turpin had his revenge. But if there was more coming, she would need to be wary.

They turned the corner, walking into a scene that was the complete opposite of Turpin and everything he stood for. At least three dozen children, ranging in age from three-year-old James to a pair of girls that looked ready to leave the schoolroom, were scattered across the wide lawn that stretched away from the raised patio at the back of the house. The older girls were minding the youngest children, but the middle ones tore across the grass, the boys using sticks as pretend rifles to wage war, and the girls picking daisies and chrysanthemums from the flower beds to make crowns and chains. A harried-looking woman who was slightly too old to be a student attempted to chase some of them, while the schoolmaster was busy chatting with Ada as she laid out refreshments.

“Good heavens,” Marigold laughed in spite of the chaos. It was such a change from the stilted silence of the last six weeks that she couldn’t find it in herself to be upset.

“Grimes is going to have a fit when he sees his gardens,” Alex muttered, though humor shone in his eyes as well.

Sure enough, within seconds, the weathered, old gardener marched around the corner, saw the girls picking his flowers, and flew into a rage, shouting, “Get away from there, you little strumpets!”

The girls screamed and scattered as Mr. Grimes ran at them, shaking his fist.

“It’s all right, Grimes,” Alex shouted across the lawn. “Let them have the flowers.”

“But…but, sir,” Grimes started.

He didn’t have a chance to finish. James popped his dark head up from a group of younger children and shouted, “Mari!”

He broke away from the other children to come charging at Marigold and Alex. Ruby sat on the grass with the other youngsters, but jumped up to run after James.

“Mari outside,” James shouted with delight, crashing into Marigold’s legs and hugging her through her skirt.

Marigold was knocked sideways into Alex, but laughed all the same. “Good afternoon, Master James,” she greeted him, resting a hand on his sun-warmed head.

“You come to watch me sing?” he asked, glancing up at her with hopeful eyes.

“Yes, dear, I have.”

A sudden whim seized her, and she let go of Alex’s arms and picked James up. He was heavier than she expected him to be, but her arms ached to hold him, and she was eager to test how much strength she’d regained. To her delight, James settled onto her hip and threw his arms around her neck. A throb of affection shot straight to her heart.

“Easy, easy there,” Alex said, reaching out and hovering over both of them, as if they would fall apart within seconds. He glanced over his shoulder to Dr. Pearson. “Should she be exerting herself like this?”

Dr. Pearson shrugged. “The danger is long past. Mrs. Croydon is well on her way to healing. If she feels whole enough to resume normal activity, then I have no reason to forbid it.” He leaned closer to Alex, and Marigold was certain she heard him mutter, “That goes for other activities too, in case you were wondering.”

Her cheeks flared pink with embarrassment, so she focused on James to brush it aside. “What will you be singing for me today?” she asked.

“Songs,” James declared proudly.

Marigold laughed. “Which ones?”

“All of them.” James laughed with her.

“Ma’am. I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Ruby said, coming to a breathless stop in front of them. “I shouldn’t have let him get away.”

“It’s all right, Ruby,” Marigold laughed. She stopped abruptly with the realization she’d given more away to Dr. Pearson than she’d intended to.

Dr. Pearson’s only reaction was to raise one eyebrow and glance to Alex. Alex replied to that look with a clever grin. Apparently, that was all Dr. Pearson needed to put two and two together.

“I can take him if you’d like, ma’am.” Ruby tentatively reached for James. “It’s just that Mr. Turnbridge, the schoolmaster, is a bit busy at the moment.” She glanced across the lawn to where Ada was giggling over something handsome, young Mr. Turnbridge had said. “And Miss Goode—she’s Mr. Turnbridge’s new assistant at the school—has her hands full with the other children.”

Ruby nodded to the young woman who was trying to get the boys to stop waging war and trampling the shrubs in the process. Miss Goode glanced their way and smiled at Ruby. Ruby waved back.

“She’s ever so nice,” Ruby said. “Turns out we both grew up in Limehouse.”

“Limehouse?” Marigold blinked. “What’s she doing all the way out here in Wiltshire, working as an assistant in a country school, then?”

“She’s escaped a man,” Ruby whispered, glancing anxiously to Alex and Dr. Pearson. “But it wouldn’t be right of me to say more.”

Marigold nodded in understanding. She didn’t have a chance to ask more questions anyhow. James wriggled in her arms, eager to get down. He left dirty footprints on her skirt before she could bend over and let him go.

“I get flowers for you,” he said, then tore off to where Mr. Grimes was grumbling as he patched up the flower beds.

Ruby exclaimed wordlessly, then chased after him, no time to beg Marigold’s leave. Marigold laughed anyhow. It was just so wonderful to see Winterberry Park’s garden swarming with children, even if it did cause a pang in her heart.

“We should do something for them on a regular basis,” she said, thinking out loud.

“Whatever you’d like, my dear.” Alex stepped toward her, placing a hand on the small of her back.

Warmth seemed to spread through her from the point of his touch. It wasn’t the same thrill of excitement as she would have felt when they were first married, but in a way, it was even nicer. She turned to Alex with a smile, pleased to find him smiling back at her. He was so much more relaxed in Wiltshire. His shoulders were less bunched, and the energy in his eyes was more from simple enjoyment of everything around him instead of battle-ready power. The London version of Alex was thrilling, but a part of her was becoming more and more convinced that she liked this content, rural version of her husband even more. He was the one who had wiped the tears from her eyes and refused to cast her aside, after all.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, brushing her hand along the lapel of his jacket to remove a fluffy seed that had landed there. “It looks as though Ada has brought some out.”

Alex smirked, humor and hunger in his eyes. “It looks as though Ada is a bit busy to pour tea for us.” He darted a look to the side.

Mr. Turnbridge had shifted to lean closer to Ada, whose cheeks were as pink as roses. Marigold giggled, touching her fingers to her lips, both to hide her amusement and because they longed for a kiss.

“Ah, the foolishness of the young,” she said, leaning closer to Alex by a fraction.

“The young aren’t the only ones who are foolish,” Alex replied.

He swayed closer to her, and for one, glorious moment, Marigold knew he was going to kiss her. Then Dr. Pearson cleared his throat.

Alex stepped back, turning to send a scolding look to his friend. “I’m beginning to wonder if I should have invited you to stay after all.”

Dr. Pearson laughed and slapped Alex’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Marigold smiled and took Alex’s arm as they headed across the lawn to treat themselves to tea. The feeling that everything would work out came as a shock to her, but Winterberry Park felt so far removed from the tension and conflict of London that she was beginning to think anything was possible.

That feeling expanded through her as James came rushing back to her with flowers in his hand when they reached the tea table.

“For you,” he said, presenting her with the wilting bouquet.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, James,” she said, smelling them to show how much she liked them.

James threw his arms around her legs, burying himself in her skirts once more. Marigold laughed, but her laugh was cut short by a gasp. A thought occurred to her. James was the only child Alex would ever have, but he’d been born on the wrong side of the bed. Alex would never be able to publically claim him, even though the truth was obvious to anyone who saw them together.

Unless there was a way for them to formally adopt James. Families had been adopting children for centuries, after all, and while there were probably rules and laws in place for titled members of the upper class, no matter how wealthy or important he was, Alex wasn’t titled. At least not yet. Perhaps there was a way for him to give legal status to what was obvious in every other way. They could be a family.

“I’ll take him, ma’am.”

Marigold’s heart thundered against her ribs as she looked up to find Miss Goode striding toward her. Her mind rang as though someone had clanged a gong next to her ears. She would never have children of her own, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be a mother.

“It’s no trouble, really,” she answered Miss Goode, breathless and flushed with possibility.

For a fraction of a second, Miss Goode looked put out. She snapped back into a smile a moment later, and said, “Mr. Turnbridge wants the children to gather for practice now. And besides, James and I are good friends. Aren’t we, James?” She knelt and grinned at James, taking his hand.

“We sing now?” James asked.

“Yes, Master James. We sing now,” she said with a laugh.

Marigold let Miss Goode lead James away to join the other children and Mr. Turnbridge as they gathered on the patio steps. “Has James been attending Mr. Turnbridge’s school?” she asked, turning to Alex.

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Alex said. “I suppose Arthur and Clara could have taken him there now and then when things became too overwhelming for them.”

“That or he became friendly with Miss Goode thanks to Ruby.”

“Your Ruby’s last name wouldn’t happen to be Murdoch, would it?” Dr. Pearson asked with a sly grin.

Alex narrowed his eyes. “I trust you’ll keep that information to yourself.”

“Absolutely.” Dr. Pearson nodded. “Something tells me the woman is much safer here than in London anyhow.”

“Precisely,” Alex said.

They finished their tea, and Dr. Pearson took his leave to check on his assistant and to make arrangements to stay the night. That gave Alex and Marigold a chance to stroll through the rest of the garden until the children were ready to perform.

“What was that all about?” Alex asked as they reached the tree-lined path that curved down to the river.

“What was what about?” she asked, her thoughts still distracted as they raced through the possibilities for James.

“When James gave you those flowers,” Alex went on. “You looked…I’m not sure.” He shrugged. After a moment of hesitation, he went on with, “If it’s too painful for you, I can have Arthur and Clara take James back.” He winced even as he made the suggestion.

“No.” Marigold said, stopping and holding his arm with both hands. “In fact, I was thinking of something exactly the opposite.” Ripples of excitement coursed through her.

Alex studied her with a lop-sided grin. “Judging by that look in your eyes, I’m not sure whether I’ll like what’s behind that sparkle, or if it’ll be the end of me.”

“It’s James,” she said, the full importance of the moment pressing down on her and making her insides buzz. “He’s your son.”

An uncertain look came over Alex. “He is.”

“Is there…have you ever heard of….” She bit her lip, too excited by her idea to form it into words. “Would it be possible for the two of us to legally adopt him?”

Alex stared, his eyes slowly widening. Shock spread across his face.

“He’s enjoyed his time here,” Marigold rushed on, feeling as though she had to prove her reasoning. “He belongs here. All of this is his by right. There has to be some way to make that official. And I could….” She lowered her head, the emotions coursing through her too powerful to face head-on.

Alex took her hands, pressing them to his chest. His heart was thundering madly. Marigold looked up at him, dizzy with hope.

“There is nothing I would love more,” he said at last, letting out a breath. “But only if it’s what you honestly want as well.”

“It is,” she hurried to say. “James is delightful. He has me utterly charmed. And he needs a mother.” She didn’t realize how close she was to tears until she had to blink to keep them back.

“Then I’ll move heaven and earth to make sure he’s yours,” Alex said, his eyes filling with as much emotion as Marigold felt. “Although hopefully, it won’t be that difficult. I assume all it will take is a bit of paperwork or some sort of proclamation by the courts.”

“Do you think that will be all?”

“Most likely. I could send Phillips back to London with Armand tomorrow to get the process started.”

“So soon?” Marigold could hardly catch her breath.

“If I could make us all a family tomorrow, I’d do it,” Alex said then kissed her hands.

That didn’t seem to be enough for him. He let her hands go so that he could draw her into his arms, until their bodies were flush against each other. Then he kissed her like he hadn’t for months. His mouth slanted over hers, drawing pure desire up from the bottom of Marigold’s soul. She wasn’t sure how much of that desire she was ready to embrace, but the heat of promise between them was delicious. She kissed him back, happier with the man in her arms now than she ever thought possible. Happiness burst around her like the sunrise of a new day about to dawn.