4 years, 9 months, and 11 days later…
“Mum! Mum! They’re hatching! They’re hatching! Come quickly.” Grabbing onto her mother’s wrist with surprising strength given her diminutive size, four-year-old Olivia dragged a laughing Eleanor out of the drawing room and into the foyer.
“You’ll need a hat and cloak,” Eleanor told her daughter sternly. “It’s cold outside.”
“But it’s spring.” Olivia’s freckled nose scrunched up in defiance. “And you never wear a hat.”
Stubborn little brat, Eleanor thought with great affection. Olivia may have inherited her father’s dark hair, but her freckles and opinionated nature came straight from her mother.
“I will this time.” Reaching into the closet, Eleanor pulled out the first hat she could find, a straw Capote trimmed with blue ribbon and white silk flowers. “There,” she said, adjusting the wide brim so it was centered over her forehead. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Derek drawled as he entered the foyer and kissed his wife’s cheek before looping his arm around her waist and tucking her snugly against his side. “Where are my two favorite ladies off to on this fine morning?”
“The eggs are hatching!” Olivia exclaimed, her ebony curls bouncing as she jumped up and down with excitement.
“Are they?” said Derek with wide-eyed surprise. “Well then, this is a very serious occasion indeed. Shall I call for the trumpets?”
The corners of her mouth twitching, Eleanor slanted her husband an amused glance. Nearly six years married and he never failed to make her smile each and every day. She’d thought she was in love with him before their children were born, but it was nothing compared to what she felt for him now.
When her belly was heavy with Olivia he’d confessed to her that he was afraid of what sort of father he would be. Having lost his own at such a young age, he had only his grandfather for comparison, a man whom Eleanor was very glad she never had the occasion to meet.
‘I very nearly ruined our marriage,’ he said, brandy eyes dark with worry. ‘What if I ruin our child? What if he or she despises me?’
‘Just be yourself,’ she told him before taking his hand and pressing it to her abdomen. ‘There, do you feel that strong kick? Our baby loves you already. All you have to do is love him or her in return.’
And he had. First Olivia and then Byron, now eight months old and growing like a weed. Fatherhood had also had the added benefit of making him an even better husband. Gone was the arrogant cad she’d married. In his place was a man who valued family first and foremost. A man who understood what was important in life. A man who finally knew that love wasn’t an inconvenience, but a gift. The most precious gift a person could give or receive.
They still argued, of course. They were both too stubborn not to. But they always made up in the most delicious of ways, and Eleanor was fairly certain one of their latest arguments was going to yield a wonderful surprise in the coming months. It was still too early to know with absolute certainty, but she had a feeling. The same wonderful, glowing feeling she’d had with Olivia and Byron. That, coupled with the fact that she’d tossed up a perfectly good blueberry scone this morning, made her almost positive she was carrying their third child.
“Oh, I don’t think there’s time for trumpets,” she said, looking at Derek with mock seriousness. “Best we get down to the pond as quick as we can.”
“Before all of the eggs hatch!” Olivia shouted, clapping her hands with glee.
“Precisely. Have you seen your brother and Mrs. Faraday?” she asked, referring to the children’s nanny, a sweet woman in her mid-forties who had the patience of a saint, a necessary requirement when dealing with a very stubborn four-year-old.
“She just took Byron to the nursery for another nap.” Olivia’s hands dropped to her waist as she rolled her eyes. “Babies sleep a lot.”
“That they do, half pint.” Derek ruffled his daughter’s hair. “That they do. As soon as you put on a hat like your mother instructed, we can go see if the eggs have hatched.”
Olivia, who wouldn’t hesitate to stand and argue with her mother until her face turned blue, promptly dove into the closet and pulled out both a bonnet and a cloak. Shaking her head at the irony – how as it she’d been the one forced to endure eighteen hours of labor, but it was Derek the children obeyed without fail? – Eleanor helped her daughter dress before swatting her on the rump and sending her out the door. While she ran ahead the duke and duchess followed at a more leisurely pace.
“I’m glad you didn’t go to London this week,” she said, flicking Derek a warm glance from beneath her lashes. While she’d made Hawkridge Castle her permanent residence and only went into town once a year to celebrate Christmas with her parents, a tradition they’d started after Olivia was born, Derek made the short trip twice a month to meet with his solicitor and visit Georgiana, who had settled quite nicely into a townhouse on the edge of Grosvenor Square. Despite their initial misgivings towards one another, she and Eleanor now exchanged regular letters. As soon as the Season was complete she would be returning to Hawkridge for the summer.
“And miss all the excitement?” Derek grinned down at her and shook his head. “Livvy would never let me hear the end of it.”
“That’s true. How many goslings do we think we’ll have this time?” As it turned out, Ronald was really a Ronalda and over the years she and Donald had proven to be quite the prolific pair. They weren’t the only ones. Eleanor’s collection of orphaned and beleaguered animals had grown to fill three carriage barns, part of the stables, and one room in the east wing which was dedicated entirely to hedgehogs.
Farmers and lords alike brought their sick and injured animals to Hawkridge, where Eleanor – along with a small staff dedicated solely to the care of her ever growing menagerie – lovingly tended them back to health.
“Any more than three of the little buggers and we’ll have to dig a larger pond,” Derek said.
“At last count there were twelve.”
The duke stopped short. “A dozen more goslings?”
Eleanor bit her cheek to keep herself from snickering at his incredulous expression. “Mr. Harrington has already said he would like a few. I’m sure we could convince Olivia to part with at least four or five when they’re old enough to leave the nest.”
“At this point I might as well put in a lake and be done with it.” Derek’s eyes narrowed when he saw the sudden gleam in his wife’s gaze. “Don’t get any ideas, Red,” he warned. “I was being facetious.”
“Of course you were,” she said agreeably. “It’s just that with a lake I could take in more water fowl and–”
“COME ON!” Olivia shouted, waving her arms in the air as she reached the water’s edge and the thicket of cattails where Ronalda had made her nest. “THEY’RE HATCHING! THEY’RE HATCHING!”
Eleanor and Derek exchanged an amused glance.
“I suppose we better hurry,” he said gravely.
Laughing, the duke and duchess ran arm in arm towards the pond and a future that was as bright as the sun.