Page 42 of How to Seduce a Viscount (Wed Within a Year #3)

April

N o expense had been spared for the Earl of Sandmore’s eighty-ninth birthday fete held at his estate amid the glory of spring time in England.

Wood anemone, cowslips, the dog violets and the roundhead rampion were all in full bloom.

The sky was blue overhead and all was right in Luce Parkhurst’s world because he strolled the garden paths of Sandmore with his wife beside him.

Somewhere ahead of them, his brothers strolled with their wives, their laughter occasionally reaching them on the breeze, but Luce had lagged behind on purpose, wanting a moment alone with Wren.

‘Does it feel good to be back?’ he asked, stopping to pluck a bluebell and tuck it behind her ear.

It still was a marvel to him that she was his, or as she would say, he was hers.

It was a marvel, too, to be able to share Sandmore with her as a place they’d both grown up.

Coming to Sandmore for Grandfather’s birthday had been a chance to retrace those youthful steps together—the lake, the garden paths and the school room on the third floor.

‘Yes, it is good to visit but it’s not home, Luce,’ she offered quietly. ‘Tillingbourne is home. It is where I belong because you are there, because our family is there.’

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Tillingbourne was still under restoration but renovations aside, the place had undergone a transformation over the past few months.

Sharing space did that to a place. There were more cut flowers in vases and fewer Holland covers on the furniture.

There was more noise, too. Wren had turned the abbey into a gathering place for the women in the village, a place where they were as likely to meet to knit blankets as they were to learn to how to defend themselves should the need ever arise.

Luce had caught her on several occasions giving tips in self-defence in the ballroom.

There were children, too. Wren had insisted that no woman be left out of her gatherings because she needed child care. Luce didn’t mind. If he needed solitude he could always escape to his library and Wren would know where to find him.

‘You miss Tillingbourne and it’s only been a week,’ he commented.

‘A very busy week,’ she countered. ‘We travelled. We had the family party, then the public party.’ Luce had presented the memoir to his grandfather at the family gathering. He’d read the introduction out loud after supper and managed to bring a few tears to his grandfather’s eyes.

‘Is being a Parkhurst all you hoped?’ Luce teased gently.

In between the parties, there’d been long afternoons with lawn games and late nights as he and his brothers and their wives talked over endless card games.

It was grand to be together, but Luce understood.

He, too, would be eager to leave tomorrow and return to Tillingbourne, to their life.

‘More than I hoped.’ She smiled and took his hand.

‘You’ve given me so many gifts over the past months, Luce.

Being part of your family is one of the greatest.’ Her eyes glistened and he raised a thumb to wipe them away.

She’d been emotional this week, crying at Grandfather’s party, tearing up as she’d hugged her new sisters in-law upon arrival.

His stiletto-wielding wife had sentimental depths. It was sweet.

‘But yes, it is a lot. I am amazed Grandfather is still on his feet. I’m exhausted.’ She slid him a shy look. ‘Perhaps I’ll need to get used to that.’

Luce knit his brow. ‘It won’t always be exhausting being a Parkhurst.’ He hoped that wasn’t a lie. It might be. The Horsemen would be called forth again at some point in the future—a week from now, a month from now, no one ever really knew. But they had come to terms with that.

Wren gave a soft smile. ‘No, not always, but it will be for a few months. I have it on good authority from Mary that the first trimester can be tiring.’

Mary was due in the summer with her and Caine’s first child. She was in blooming good looks and had spent most of the week toting Guenevere’s baby about on her hip. Practicing, she called it… Wait. Luce’s mind came to a full stop.

‘You have it on good authority? What exactly does that mean?’ Luce began to put other pieces together. The crying from a woman who was not given to tears, the exhaustion from a woman who was never tired. There’d been other little giveaways, too, in bed.

‘You’re the problem solver. Put it together.’ She smiled impishly.

‘Are we expecting a child?’ he asked, unable to keep amazed disbelief from his voice.

Her smile disappeared. ‘Is it too soon?’

‘No, not at all,’ Luce rushed to reassure her.

‘It is an embarrassment of riches. A wife, a child, a home, love, happiness. I’ve been gifted these things all at once.

’ His own eyes stung. He wrapped her in his arms and held on tight while they both shed tears of joy.

‘When do we think our child might make its arrival?’ He was already doing the math, already guessing, already impatient to meet him or her.

‘November.’

A wedding night baby. Or before, Luce thought, remembering the night she’d taken him astride.

For everything there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Indeed there was. Perhaps by November, Stepan might be here.

He hoped every day that Stepan would choose to return, but for now it had been an immense relief to the family just to know he was alive.

‘Do you want to tell our family before we leave?’ she asked. He could hear them up ahead. Little Jamie was squealing with delight as his father tossed him high.

He nodded. ‘Yes, if it’s all right with you.’

‘Then let’s catch up to them.’ She tugged at his hand and drew him down the path towards the laughter and voices.

He went willingly. He wanted his brothers to know, he wanted to celebrate with them, with his parents, with his grandfather.

That’s what families were for and he had one of the best. It was high time he embraced that fully.