Page 33 of Matching Mr. Montfert (Apsley Family #2)

Five Years Later...

Phillip

The pouting face that stared up at me nearly changed my mind, but as any good father strived to do, I held my ground. “It is time for bed. There will be no more tarts tonight.”

“Just one tart,” Rose begged, shifting on her bed. “Please, Papa.” She drew out her plea, extending the vowels for so long that the word could likely create a bridge to cross The Channel.

“Not tonight, but if you promise to go to bed, I will sneak you one at breakfast.”

“But breakfast is so far away,” Lily moaned as if all two years of her life had consisted of such torturous waiting.

Ever the negotiator and guardian of her younger sister, Rose folded her arms. “Two tarts for each of us, or no deal.”

I chuckled, and so did the girls’ nurse, who stood across the room. She had attempted to get them to bed, but they had insisted on me coming to bid them goodnight. Insisted, I wagered, because I had a reputation of being somewhat for a pushover when it came to them. I loved them dearly, and they knew it well.

I pulled my lips to one side and hummed as if considering the offer with great thought. “If you go to sleep without giving Nurse a fuss, and are on your best behavior in the morning, I will concede to two tarts at breakfast.”

“Each,” Rose reminded, not one to be tricked.

“Two tarts each,” I corrected, then leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead. She snuggled down under her covers, and I tucked them around her before moving to Lily’s bed to do the same. She giggled when I left an exaggerated kiss on each of her cheeks. The sound filled my heart to near capacity with warmth and contentment. These small memories were precious, and the more of them I made, the less space the painful ones of the past had to occupy.

Someday, they might disappear completely.

I left my girls in Nurse’s capable hands and followed the corridor to my bedchamber. Soft humming echoed from inside, and I peeked into the room to see Grace standing near the window, her hand resting on her bulging stomach as she stared out at the stars. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, all pins removed, and she swayed slightly to the tune of the song.

It was a sight I might never grow used to, or at the very least, would never cease to appreciate. Years spent with this woman had not dampened my love for her. No, it had only grown, just as our family continued to do.

Happiness consumed me, and though there were times when the shadows of life still found us both, we fought through them together.

I patted my coat pocket, needing another reminder that the letter resting there was real. Today, another of those shadows would vanish, and tomorrow, I would need to send word to Sabrina. She lived with her husband in Gloucestershire now, along with Mr. Barton, who they had hired directly following their marriage. Both of them would welcome the relief I had already experienced.

“Well, how many tarts did you promise this time?”

Grace’s question brought a smile to my lips. I entered the room and closed the door behind me. “Only two, if you must know.”

“Only,” she said, grinning. “It will be three by the end of the week.”

I saw no reason to argue against that probability. If I did not up the ante to three, my mother would. She doted on them as much as I did, if not more.

I sat down at the head of our bed and began removing my boots. Grace waddled over to me and gave my shoulder a gentle swat, her customary sign that I was to move over. I shifted to make room, my smile growing as she slumped onto the mattress with a sigh.

“What is that for?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“You are smiling so wide it is concerning. Are you scheming something?”

I removed my other boot, and after tossing it aside, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “Not at all. Simply counting my blessings.”

“Because I swatted you?” Her confusion was far too adorable.

“Because you think about me. Instead of sitting on my left, you nudged me to make room on my right, knowing I would hear you better on this side.”

Her nose scrunched. “Should I confess that I did not think about it all? I simply did it.”

My arm tightened around her, pulling her against me. “An even greater blessing. You know me so well, and care so much, that it does not require conscious consideration.”

I doubt she realized how often she placed herself intentionally on my right side. Anytime we attended parties or balls, it was the same. Grace watched for moments where she could allay my social unease, and did so in a delicate manner that never drew attention to my hearing difficulties. I no longer hid the malady like some embarrassing secret, but I found comfort in her love and care as she made my needs a priority.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, reaching for her legs and lifting them onto my lap. She squealed in surprise but relaxed against my chest as I gently ran my fingers along her weak leg. We had found that gently massaging the muscle relieved some of her pain, especially when she was so near her confinement. The extra weight of a child often took its toll on her.

She sighed, resting her head on my shoulder. “As well as can be expected. Have you heard news of the house?”

By house, she meant the ruins left to me by my father, though it was not in that state anymore. After our marriage, Grace had insisted that we use her dowry to make repairs. If Uncle returned and disinherited me, we would at least have a place of our own that he had no claim over since I’d not used a penny of his money to fix the estate. Instead, I’d spent the last five years investing her dowry strategically, and it had paid off.

“Repairs have begun,” I said. “It may be livable by next spring, even.”

“That is splendid news. It is a relief to have something to fall back on, is it not?”

“Indeed.” Though, we no longer needed it.

The first two years of our marriage had been a whirlwind in many respects. It had taken months to fully sort out the extent of Uncle’s crimes. The courts had then determined restitutions, and I had immediately begun repaying those I could. Uncle’s holdings were severely diminished, and with my name so tied to his, it had been difficult to find business partners willing to look past that connection. In time, my reputation was restored, but our finances were still recovering from all the loss.

I retrieved the letter from my pocket, and Grace eyed it curiously. “What do you have there?”

“News.”

“The good kind or the bad kind?” she asked.

“Some of both, I suppose. It comes from New South Wales. It seems Uncle took ill about a month ago. The sickness claimed him.”

Grace, the wonderful, sweet woman, had heart enough to appear genuinely sad. “Oh, Phillip.”

“I will not mourn him,” I said quietly. “He might have taken me in after my father’s death, but it was only to serve his own purposes, not out of kindness. Perhaps I should feel guilty for feeling so relieved, but I cannot seem to do so. Even with him across the sea, I have felt the burden of his expectations, knowing one day he might return. But now…now I can truly move forward.”

“You will not hear me chide you for any of it.” She slid a hand around my neck and pulled me down until my lips met hers. “No one would blame you for feeling as you do. Certainly not me. Not your mother, nor our girls.” She patted her swollen belly. “Not this little fellow.”

“Fellow?” I asked. “You are so sure it is a boy.”

She nodded once. “A boy. He wiggles around far more than Rose or Lily ever did.”

“He is practicing his dancing, I think. I have it on good authority that a single dance can make a lady fall madly in love with a man. Perhaps we ought to assist him.”

Grace passed me an incredulous look. “I am too inflated for dancing, Phillip.”

I settled her legs back on the floor with a grin, then stood, holding out my hands to help her up. Grace rolled her eyes but placed her hands in mine. I gently tugged her to her feet.

“One moment,” I said, crossing the room to the hearth. I refolded the letter and placed it next to the vase sitting on the mantle. Within the glass rested three dried roses. They had lost their vibrant red color years ago, but they served as a constant reminder of our love, just as the gold chain that wrapped around their stems served to remind me of how much my life had changed. Now, the letter was yet another physical representation that the future was mine to mold and shape.

My family was safe and secure, in every sense, at last.

I reclaimed Grace’s hands and began our dance. I stepped around her while she remained in place, exaggerating my movements until she laughed, her eyes bright with the reflection of firelight.

“I think we will need to hire a dance instructor for the children rather than rely on you to teach them,” she teased.

“My dancing skills worked out fine for me,” I said, stopping in front of her. “They landed me the perfect partner.”

“I believe your matchmaker may have had something to do with that.”

“True.” I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her as close to me as her protruding stomach would allow. “Perhaps I ought to thank her again.”

“You certainly should,” she whispered. “A few kisses will suffice.”

A payment of gratitude I never hesitated to deliver.

May, 1817

Edward

Edward stared down at the note delivered to him by Rowe Apsley moments ago, his brows drawn in confusion. He broke the seal, curiosity tugging at him so thoroughly that he read without leaving the foyer.

May 25th, 1817

Lieutenant Paget,

By now you are likely aware that I have left Town to return to my country estate. I am forwarding you my direction along with this letter of invitation to join me at your earliest convenience as a guest at Kenwick Castle. We still have much to discuss of your political aspirations, in addition to your quest for justice. I remain, as ever, a silent partner who wishes to see you find success.

As for the funds we previously discussed, I have a proposition that I believe you will find, at the very least, of great interest and intrigue. For the sake of persuading you to visit, I will not detail it here but shall await word of your arrival with as much enthusiasm as a sickly old man can muster.

Until then, I remain your friend and humble patron,

Lord Paxton.

Edward smiled to himself. An invitation to Kenwick Castle was precisely what his dismal mood needed, and if he could trust Lord Paxton—and in all honesty, he did trust the man—then the journey would prove worthwhile on several fronts.

And if his visit happened to provide an opportunity to vex a certain red-headed lady? Well, then all the better.