Page 6 of The Homecoming (The De Montforte Brothers #6)

Chapter Five

D awn.

The first rays of sunshine touched the downs, and mist clung to the vale in which the village of Ravenscombe was nestled. A chill was still in the air, and in the great kitchens downstairs, servants were lighting the fire and beginning to prepare breakfast.

Not long afterward, the family itself went about rising.

Lucien, grateful, relieved, and even excited that his family was together again at last, had slept peacefully in his tower bedroom, his duchess in his arms.

Gareth and Juliet had also slept well, as had Charles (after lying awake in the darkness for a long time, battling his conflicting emotions over his new brother-in-law) and Amy.

Nerissa, safe in her husband’s arms, had passed the night in deep, dreamless slumber, though Ruaidri had been somewhat restless in the great chamber in which his wife had grown up, finding it stuffy, oppressive, and overdone.

Andrew and Celsie had not slept at all.

They came down to breakfast, bleary eyed, pale, and holding the puppy which, Lucien decided after taking one look at the little dog, was the likely reason for their fatigued appearance this morning.

“Sleep well?” he asked innocently as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Andrew just glared at him while Celsie suppressed a smirk.

The doors opened and Gareth appeared along with Juliet. “Morning, everyone!”

“Good morning.”

“Anyone fancy a ride out over the downs after breakfast?”

“A ride or a race?”

“Right, let’s make it a race.”

Lucien reached for a roll. He buttered it and then put it on Eva’s plate.

“I think Eva and I are going to walk out and inspect some of the fencing in the east pasture,” he said.

“Why don’t you see if you can interest Ruaidri in going?

” He glanced toward the door. “I think it would be good to try to integrate him into the family... Make him feel welcome.”

“Does he ride?” Gareth asked.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Gareth shrugged. “Most mariners don’t seem as comfortable on the back of a horse as they do the deck of a ship.”

“I daresay there is nothing ... typical, about your new brother,” Lucien drawled, reaching for coffee. “But if you’re going out for a ride, I suggest you also invite Charles. It would be a good opportunity for him to get to know our captain.”

“I have little wish to get to know him.”

“Ah, Charles.” Lucien smiled up at his brother, who stood in the doorway with Amy. “I daresay it’s not like you to be so churlish. Did you not sleep well?”

“I slept fine.”

“You must give Ruaidri a chance. As Andrew did, and as I did.”

“Just because the two of you think he’s the patron saint of Ireland doesn’t mean I’m obligated to share your feelings.”

“Charles,” Amy said, taking his arm. “Lucien’s right. If you alienate him, you’ll alienate Nerissa as well. Is that what you wish?”

Charles sighed and took a seat. “I really cannot stomach being under the same roof as that blackguard. And I can’t pretend an affection for him that I do not feel.”

“Ahem.”

There in the doorway stood the subject of his ire, with Nerissa, their child in her arms, alongside him. The man took a deep breath and offered a nod of greeting, which Charles did not return. He looked at his sister instead. Her eyes were bleak. Angry. Hurt.

“Charles, must you be so very odious? So rude?”

He flushed hotly. He could not hold his sister’s gaze, and instead, reached for a piece of fruit. The air crackled with awkwardness, and he didn’t say a word as the two newcomers took their seats.

It was the Irishman who broke the tension. “Fine pile ye got here, Blackheath,” he said jovially. “What do you do around here to amuse yerself, eh?”

“Manipulate people,” Celsie said with false innocence.

The duke smiled and shook his head. “Those days are past, my dear. You’re all happily married, now.

My work is done. No more schemes.” He took a long sip of his coffee and his black gaze settled on Ruaidri.

“To answer your question, though ... I begin my day with a long walk before the sun is fully risen—good for both the dogs and me, I daresay—attend to various orders of business both domestic and political, enjoy breakfast and then take Armageddon out for a gallop.”

“That’s it?”

“Country life is rather dull, I’m afraid.”

“Not half as exciting as blowing up ships and fighting wars,” Andrew added as an aside to Ruaidri. “I hope you won’t be bored.”

“Bored?” The Irishman waited as a footman poured coffee for him, picked up the cup, and took a long swallow. He set it down, smiling with pleasure. “Saints alive, this coffee alone’ll make up for any so-called boredom,” he said. “The swill my cook makes aboard ship is lamentable.”

Everyone laughed except Charles, who pointedly gazed out the window.

“Charles and I often engage in a horse race when we’re both home,” Gareth offered. “Do you ride? You’re welcome to join us.”

Nerissa nudged her husband’s arm. “You should join them.”

“I might.” He looked at Andrew, who was rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. “Ye going to go, Andrew?”

“No, not today.”

“Andrew didn’t sleep much last night,” Celsie said wryly.

Nerissa looked at them in concern. “Why not?”

“The great unnamed,” Andrew muttered, shooting a glance at the puppy on Celsie’s lap.

She pulled the little dog close. “You did agree to take him into our bed.”

“And you came up with the idea, so you can’t lay the entire blame on me.”

“Aye, he’s feisty, that one,” Ruaidri agree. “How about we take him tonight? He knows us ... maybe he’ll settle down a bit.”

“You’ve had such a long trip. We can take him,” Juliet offered. “Right, Gareth?’

“Sure,” he said, spreading jam on a roll. “Dogs love me. He’ll sleep.”

Andrew shook his head. “We’ll try him again tonight. If he keeps us awake a second time, one of you lot can have him tomorrow.”

A footman brought in another pot of tea. Comments were exchanged about the bright sunny day outside, the state of the ongoing war, and inquiries about the welfare and doings of the next generation of the family.

“And where are all the little ones?” Ruaidri asked. “Seems awfully quiet around here.”

“Upstairs in the nursery,” Juliet offered.

“When we have a large family gathering, they insist on all being together, day and night. Even the youngest of the lot. I know, an English nursery is a bit different from the way we do things in Boston and I daresay, Captain, where you grew up, but the children love it. They play games, make mischief, sleep in pretend-tents and cause their nurses to pull their hair out.”

Amy nodded and rested a hand on her belly. “They’ll be down shortly.”

“Yes, be prepared,” Eva said with sparkling eyes.

As if to punctuate her words, there was a sudden cacophony of shrieks, giggles, and yelling, and what sounded like a distant rumble.

“Here they come,” said Juliet, and a moment later the doors flew open and the room was full of children, two harried nurses some distance behind them.

“Aunt Nerissa!”

“And oh, look, a puppy!”

The puppy immediately started yapping in Celsie’s arms, tail beating against her bodice as he tried to get down to see the children.

Nerissa passed Aidan to her husband and opened her arms as the excited brood ran around the table and tried to pile into her lap, some of them going to the puppy immediately afterward, some staring at Ruaidri.

Charlotte, the oldest, blonde and blue-eyed, the only one who had any real memories of the aunt she resembled so much.

Not quite six in years, she had a serious nature about her, but was all studied politeness and smiles as she watched each of her cousins swarm her aunt and new uncle.

Nerissa was overwhelmed. How much they had all grown in a year and a half.

And how much she had missed—first words and first teeth, first Christmases and first friendships and even first times on a horse.

Charlotte, self-appointed little spokesperson of the group.

Her brother, Gabriel, his hair a few shades darker than his sister’s, the spark of deviltry that had so defined Gareth already lighting his pale blue eyes.

Little Mary, an orange tabby clutched in her arms that was staring balefully at the puppy in Celsie’s; she favored her mother, Amy, but her huge dark eyes had the steady, focused observance of her father, Charles, and she had not lost her shy reticence.

Tiny Laura, almost three now, with Andrew’s dark russet locks and a big smile that grew all the wider when she saw the puppy her mother held, her little brother, Justin, squalling in Nurse’s, and now Andrew’s, arms. And finally Augustus, the young Marquess of Ravenscombe and heir apparent to the great Duchy of Blackheath, dark haired, dark-eyed, and quite tall for his age, unmistakably Lucien’s son in everything about him from looks to mannerisms.

“Who are you?” he asked of Ruaidri, eyeing him with lordly suspicion.

“This is your uncle, Captain Ruaidri,” Eva said kindly. “And I’m sure he will be very happy to regale you all with stories of ships and the sea, mermaids, whales, and the many places to which he has sailed.”

“Oh, my!” young Mary breathed, holding her kitten close. “Have you ever seen a sea monster?”

“Well, now, lass, off the coast of Newfoundland a few years back I did once see something that caused me hair to stand on end and—”

“You talk funny,” said Gabriel.

“Gabriel!” Juliet scolded. “That is quite rude. You apologize to your uncle.”

“Well, he does talk funny,” ventured little Laura. “But I would very much like to hear about the sea monster. Please continue, Uncle Ruaidri.”

“Roo-a-ree,” squealed Gabriel. “Your name is funny too!”

Mary shyly took a step closer. “May we hear about the sea monster, sir?”

Ruaidri O’Devir didn’t seem offended in the least, and Charles, watching this exchange, felt his irritation increasing. So, the rogue was now charming his very daughter as well as his wife. Resentment clenched his veins, and he felt a muscle tightening in his jaw.