Marrying Winterborne

“Napoleon and Josephine!” Pandora exclaimed.

“The dogs were pining for you,” Kathleen said. “Let’s hope they don’t cause trouble, or back to Hampshire they go.”

A pair of black cocker spaniels burst in the room, yapping excitedly and jumping on the twins, who both dropped to the floor to play with them. Pandora was on all fours, pretending to pounce on Napoleon, who flopped onto his back in joyful surrender. Kathleen opened her mouth to protest, but shook her head in resignation, recognizing that any attempt to calm the boisterous girls would be useless.

Devon, Lord Trenear, entered the room and grinned at the mayhem. “How soothing,” he remarked to the room at large. “Like a Degas painting: ‘Young Ladies at Afternoon Tea.’”

The earl was a handsome man, dark-haired and blue-eyed, with a seasoned air that suggested a past full of misadventure. His gaze went to Kathleen and turned absorbed and hot, the look of a man in love for the first time in his life. He went to stand just behind her, one hand sliding over her narrow shoulder, while his chin rested gently on the ruddy curls pinned atop her head. Helen had never seen him touch Kathleen in such an openly familiar manner.

“Have you all behaved in our absence?” he asked.

“Two of us have,” Cassandra said from the floor.

Kathleen glanced at the other twin. “Pandora, what did you do?”

“Why do you assume it was me?” Pandora protested with faux indignation, making everyone laugh. She grinned and stood, holding the dog as he wriggled to lick her face. “While we’re asking questions—Kathleen, why is there a ring on your finger?”

All gazes shot to Kathleen’s left hand. Looking bashfully pleased, she extended it for them to see. Cassandra abandoned Josephine and leapt to her feet, joining Pandora and Helen as they crowded close for a look. The ring, featuring a ruby of the rare shade known as “pigeon’s blood,” was set in yellow gold filigree.

“Just before we took the train to Hampshire,” Kathleen confided, “Devon and I were wed at the registrar’s office.”

All three Ravenel sisters burst out with joyful exclamations. The news wasn’t altogether surprising: In the past few months, the household had become aware of the growing attraction between Devon and Kathleen.

“How wonderful,” Helen said, beaming. “Everyone knows you belong together.”

“I hope you won’t think too badly of me for marrying while I’m still in mourning,” Kathleen said in a muffled voice. Drawing back, she continued earnestly, “I wouldn’t wish for any of you to feel that I’d forgotten Theo, or that I didn’t respect his memory. But as you know, I have developed a very deep respect and fondness for Devon, and we decided—”

“Fondness?” Devon interrupted, his brows lifting. But there was a spark of mischief in his blue eyes. Kathleen had been raised in a strict household where declarations of emotion had always been discouraged, and Devon delighted in teasing her out of her reserve.

Self-consciously Kathleen muttered, “Love.”

He pretended not to hear, cocking his head. “Hmm?”

Blushing, Kathleen said, “I’m in love with you. I adore you. May I continue now?”

“You may,” Devon said, gathering her more closely against him.

“As I was saying,” Kathleen went on, “we decided that it was best to marry sooner rather than later.”

“I couldn’t be happier,” Cassandra said. “But why couldn’t you wait to have a proper wedding?”

“I’ll explain later. For now, let’s have tea.”

“You could explain during tea,” Pandora persisted.

“It’s not appropriate for teatime,” Kathleen replied evasively.

Then Helen understood, with insight gained from very recent experience, that Kathleen was expecting a child. It was the most logical explanation for a hasty marriage and an inability to explain why to a nineteen-year-old girl.

A faint blush rose in Helen’s cheeks as she reflected that Devon and Kathleen must have shared a bed, in the way of a husband and wife. It was a bit shocking.

But not nearly as shocking as it would have been if Helen hadn’t done the same thing with Rhys Winterborne only yesterday.

“But why—” Pandora persisted.

“Oh dear,” Helen interceded, “the dogs are sniffing around the tea table. Come, let’s all sit while I pour. Kathleen, how is Cousin West?”

Kathleen settled into a wingback chair, sending Helen a grateful glance.

The subject of West instantly diverted the twins, as Helen had known it would. Devon’s brother, a handsome young rake who pretended to be far more cynical than he actually was, had become the twins’ favorite person in the world. He treated both of them with casual affection and benevolent interest, acting as the older brother they’d never really had. Theo had always lived away at boarding school, and then London.

Talk soon turned to the subject of Eversby Priory. Devon described the massive hematite ore deposit that had been discovered, and how they were developing plans to quarry and sell it.

“Are we rich now?” Pandora asked.

“It’s not polite to ask,” Kathleen said, lifting her teacup. But just before she took a sip, she winked over the rim and murmured, “But yes.”

The twins chortled.

“As rich as Mr. Winterborne?” Cassandra inquired.

“Silly,” Pandora said, “no one’s as rich as Mr. Winterborne.” Noticing the scowl dawning on Devon’s face, she said apologetically, “Oh. We’re not supposed to mention him.”