Page 9 of The Homecoming (The De Montforte Brothers #6)

Chapter Seven

“ T hat bloody puppy! You get back here! Give me that!”

A shriek from the kitchens and the puppy—now christened Turnip after the de Montforte children had put it to a noisy vote—shot under the great worktable where they had all gathered to beg some biscuits from the cook, their nurse, huffing and puffing to keep up, some distance behind them.

Mrs. Dodman, preparing the evening meal, was happy to spoil the children rotten.

She wasn’t so happy when the puppy jumped up onto the long bench, put his paws on her worktable, and snatched a chicken leg she was seasoning in preparation for Lady Charles’s planned birthday celebration for later in the day.

“Ohhhh!” She leaned down, reached under the table, made a swipe for the dog’s tail, and came up with empty air. The puppy tucked its bottom and sprinted from the room, the prize clutched in its jaws.

“You get back here! Get back here right now!”

The children fell to laughing at her tirade, though Mary’s huge brown eyes widened with concern and Laura looked ready to cry for fear the cook would murder the little dog.

Noting it, the woman shook her head and made a shooing motion with her hands. “Right, off with you lot so old Peg here can find somethin’ else to make for Lady Charles’s birthday celebration tonight. You all fancy some cake after the meal?”

The children all clamored to be heard, their voices shrill with excitement.

“Yes!”

“With lots of icing!”

“Oh, please, please, Mrs. Dodman! Cake!”

“Well then, all of ye take yourselves out of here now, and let me get back to work or there’ll be no meal nor cake for the birthday celebration tonight.

Go on, now. Where’s Nurse? There she is.

I daresay, Betsy, if ye’re getting too old and slow to keep up with these children ye’d better let it be known because they’re completely out of control. ”

“And if you’re too old and slow to guard tonight’s meal from a puppy’s jaws, maybe you’d better let it be known, Peg.”

“Oh, go on with ye. Sit down and have a cup of tea with me. And a biscuit. Saints alive, did you see that devil her ladyship brought home? Thought I was too old to notice such things but my goodness, guess it shows that I ain’t dead yet, after all.”

Charles had rejoined Gareth and O’Devir after a hard gallop across the downs and, trying to at least pretend a measure of politeness he didn’t feel like exhibiting, had kept Contender with his brother’s horse and the half-asleep nag that his new brother-in-law rode as they walked back toward the castle.

He made no attempt at small talk, leaving that to Gareth, and was glad of it when they finally approached the stables.

He dismounted and handed the reins to a groom who came forward.

“Thank you,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. “Give him a good measure of feed tonight. He earned it.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

He maintained his silence as the three of them returned to the castle, and immediately made an excuse to leave them. It wasn’t entirely due to his dislike of O’Devir and unwillingness to be in his company. It was Amy’s birthday, and he had something he wanted to give her.

He found her in the Gold Parlour, taking tea with Juliet, Eva, Nerissa, and Celsie. They looked up as he entered.

“How was your ride, Charles?”

“Exhilarating.”

“Who won the race today, Contender or Crusader?”

“I’m afraid we did not race. Amy, my dear, would you join me upstairs?” He smiled a bit sheepishly. “I have something for you.”

She put down her cup, excitement lighting her eyes. “For me?”

“Well, it is your birthday,” he said, delighting in her childlike joy. It was one of her many attributes, and he never tired of it. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to stay down here and enjoy Mrs. Dodman’s special biscuits.”

She accepted his hand as she got to her feet. “I am large enough without eating any more of Mrs. Dodman’s biscuits.” She rested a hand on her burgeoning belly. “They are quite addicting.”

“I’ll eat one for you, then. I’ve worked up an appetite.”

He snatched one himself, bit into it, and savored the lemony confections. “Mmm, these are good.”

“Go, you two,” the duchess said, making a little shooing motion with her hands. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

He bowed, offered his arm to Amy, and headed for the door. He was aware of the speculative whispering of the women behind him.

“Ohhh, I wonder what he’s got for her!”

“Charles always gets her something sweet for her birthday.”

“He’s ever so thoughtful. I bet it’s a—”

He shot them a glance from over his shoulder. “You’ll all find out soon enough.”

Leaving the women laughing, they left the room. At the foot of the great stone staircase, Charles paused. “Amy,” he said, turning her to face him. “I wasn’t thinking. I wanted to give you my gift in private, but these stairs are too much, I think, for someone in your advanced condition.”

“Charles, I’m not advanced. The baby’s not due until next month. Besides, the exercise will be good for me.”

“Are you certain, my love? I can run up and bring it down.”

She squeezed his arm. “I’m too excited to wait,” she said with girlish excitement. “I’ll be fine.”

He eyed her with concern as they slowly took the stairs, his elbow steady and dependable.

“Charles, I am not an invalid,” she protested, noting his worry.

But she was flushed and breathing hard by the time they reached the top, and he regretted not bringing his gift to her downstairs.

They could have found a quiet place for him to give it to her.

It wasn’t as if Blackheath Castle didn’t have enough rooms for two people wanting a few moments of privacy.

But they were upstairs now, and they made their way to his old apartments where they stayed when visiting his childhood home. He helped her to a chair, and she sat waiting expectantly, hands resting over her belly as he went to the desk in the corner.

He opened the drawer. There was the box, right where he’d hidden it, tied up in tissue and a thin velvet bow. He took it out, and turning, held it behind his back as he approached her.

Her eyes gleamed with excitement as he knelt before her and presented her with the box.

“Happy birthday, my dearest love.”

She clasped her hands together with a little squeal, carefully untied the ribbon, and unwrapped the small package. She looked up, her velvety brown eyes meeting his, delaying the moment, treasuring it.

“Go ahead, open it.”

She looked down, tore off the tissue in which he had wrapped it, opened the box, and let out a breathy cry of delight.

“Oh, Charles!”

“Do you like it? I thought the ruby would suit your coloring.”

She stared down at the ring for a long moment and when she finally looked up at him, her eyes were wet with tears. “It is just beautiful,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It was my great-grandmother’s. I thought you should have it.”

She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and lifted the ring out of the box with reverence, staring at it and turning it over in her fingers.

“She loved rubies,” Charles said, grinning. “Or so I’m told. I’m afraid I never met her.”

“She must have loved diamonds, too, because the stone is surrounded by them. Oh, this is beautiful, Charles. Just beautiful...”

“Fit for a princess,” he said. “Or at least, a duchess.”

“I am neither.”

“You are to me. Go ahead, try it on.”

She slid the ring over her forefinger but couldn’t get past the knuckle.

“How about your little finger?” he suggested.

She did, her face falling. “It’s too big for that one.”

“How about this finger?” He gently took her hand, kissed her knuckles, and slid the ring over the tip of her right ring finger. Again, the ring stopped short.

“Oh, Charles, I so wanted to wear this when we go down for tea this afternoon,” she said woefully. “They’ll all be curious to know what your big surprise is, but I can’t get it on ... my fingers are so swollen...”

“Once the baby is born, I’m sure you’ll have your choice of fingers on which to wear it, Amy. Please don’t despair.”

“I’m sorry, Charles.”

“Sorry?” He smiled, got to his feet, and bent down to kiss her upturned nose as she looked up at him. “That baby you’re carrying is more important than anything in the world, aside from the one you have already given us. Everyone will understand.”

“I’ll bring it down to show everyone, though. But I can’t wait until I can wear it, Charles.”

“I know, love.” He reached a hand down and helped her to her feet. “Now, come and rest, Amy. I worry about you so.”

“Honestly, Charles, I’m expecting a baby, not sick.”

“All the more reason you should rest. I’ll join you. We could use some time to ourselves, I think. Maybe we can narrow down our list of names for the baby as we wait for the big day?”

She nodded then, her sorrow over the ring’s fit put aside for the moment, as he intended it to be. “I would love that,” she said, happy once more.

“What is that little devil into now?” Nerissa said, lifting the tablecloth in search of Turnip. “He was here just a moment ago. I’m beginning to think we should have left him back in Newburyport. He’s been nothing but trouble.”

“He’s fine,” Lucien murmured. “Been a while since we’ve had a puppy around here to liven things up.”

“He ate the corner of the rug in the Gold Parlour,” Nerissa lamented. “I don’t think it’s repairable.”

Ruaidri nodded gravely. “And he chewed the leg of that parlor table.”

“And he doesn’t sleep at night,” Andrew said, suppressing a yawn.

“He just needs training,” Celsie declared. “All puppies do. Besides, he’s teething. Of course he’s going to chew.”

“Have the cook get him a soup bone, then,” Andrew said. “The furnishings will thank her.”

A sudden commotion in the hall outside heralded the arrival of the older children, who were hard-pressed not to run to their seats in excitement for whatever confection that same cook would soon be sending up.

“Where are Uncle Charles and Aunt Amy?”

“I hope they come down soon, tea will be here any moment!”