Page 68 of The Nanny’s Handbook to Magic and Managing Difficult Dukes

Concerning Seagull Tag, Rockpool Feasts, Ice Cream Cake and Puff Balloons, Family Affairs, and Things of Boundless Blue…

Kingsgate Beach

Emmeline laughed as she watched Bartholomew and Horatio chasing seagulls along the shoreline of Kingsgate Beach.

Xavier, who was strolling beside her with Gareth on his shoulders, called, “Watch out, you’ll get wet,” as the boy, light brown hair flying in the light sea breeze, pelted past his sister, straight into the path of an approaching foam-laced wave.

Too late… Bartholomew squealed as the water—icy-cold even in late August—splashed his bare feet and ankles, soaking the bottoms of his rolled-up trouser legs to the knees.

Harry, who’d been a few yards ahead of them all, studying the horizon through a pair of field glasses, turned back and rolled her eyes in apparent disgust at her boisterous brother.

Grinning impishly and clearly unrepentant, Bartholomew raced back toward his younger brother, Xavier, and Emmeline. “I love the seaside,” he cried, seizing Emmeline’s hand. “I wish we could live here all the time.”

I second that , remarked Horatio as he swooped past Emmeline. There’s nothing like fresh sea air and playing tag with seagulls! Oh, and how could I forget rock-pool feasts of sea snails and minnows and crabs? Delish!

“Can we, Cousin Xavier?” asked Gareth, leaning down to hug his guardian about the neck. “I love the seaside too.”

Xavier gave a light chuckle. “As it’s your sixth birthday today, Gareth, I’ll promise you this: I’ll do my level best to make sure we visit Kingscliff Castle and the beach as much as possible. At least for six months every year.”

“Huzzah!” crowed Gareth.

It was, indeed, young Gareth’s birthday and Xavier had proposed that they all take a late morning stroll together as a family along the beach.

Emmeline and the children had all readily agreed.

Their destination—a small private cove that was part of the Kingscliff estate—lay hidden beyond the rocky point below the castle.

Bartholomew wrinkled his nose—now lightly freckled from spending so many hours in the summer sun—as he looked up at Xavier. “I suppose half of the year will do.”

“I should think so,” returned Emmeline, squeezing the boy’s hand. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to miss out on all the exciting things happening back in London. Remember, we’re going to see Jack and the Beanstalk at your Uncle Freddy’s theater, the Oberon, next month.”

After Freddy had sold the Markwick pocket watch for a tidy sum at Christie’s, he’d cleared all his outstanding debt and, with the help of their father (whose health was much restored), had been busily refurbishing the music hall to its former glory.

It warmed Emmeline’s heart to see her brother and father reconciled and so content with life.

Without Xavier’s generous intervention, she was certain the Oberon would have closed.

Instead, the business was turning into a raging success.

Indeed, Freddy had mentioned in his last letter that it was packed to the gunwales every single night.

He was even thinking of introducing a matinee session on Saturdays.

Harry, who’d joined them, agreed with Emmeline. “And we don’t want to miss out on seeing Cousin Xavier’s grand clock being built at Westminster Palace.”

“Exactly,” said Emmeline, smiling up at her handsome, clever husband, who grinned back at her. “It’s going to be glorious.”

The official announcement that Xavier Mason, the Duke of St Lawrence, was the designer who’d been awarded the commission for the St Stephen’s “King of Clocks” had been made just one month after the contest had closed.

Apart from their wedding day, it had been one of the happiest days of Emmeline’s life.

To witness her wonderful husband receiving word from the Astronomer Royal that he’d at last achieved his long-fought-for goal—to see Xavier’s whole face light up and tears of joy brim in his eyes as he’d read George Airy’s missive—was a memory she would treasure forever.

Xavier deserved every accolade and honor that came his way. In time, she hoped that the horrid rumors questioning his soundness of mind would fade away, and instead he would only be revered for his brilliance.

Of course, there had been a good deal of scandal generated by the criminal trials of Sir Randolph Redvers and Algernon Mason.

The two men, having been found guilty of masterminding the attempted kidnapping of the Duke of St Lawrence’s ward, were currently incarcerated in Newgate Prison.

West—the hired thug who’d done Sir Randolph’s and Algernon’s wicked bidding that day in Hyde Park—was also serving time in Newgate, along with Xavier’s disloyal footman, Ollie, and the disgraced nurserymaid, Fanny.

It was Fanny’s betrayal that stung the most. Emmeline had liked and trusted the young woman, and the children had been fond of her too.

But what she’d done—joining in the contemptible plot to disrupt her employer’s life by participating in Gareth’s abduction—was beyond the pale.

She’d been served her just deserts, just like her other despicable counterparts, and Emmeline couldn’t say she didn’t deserve them.

When their small party of five arrived at the end of the beach, Xavier lowered Gareth to the sand so they could pick their way along a narrow, rocky path that skirted the base of the whitechalk cliff. Above them towered Kingscliff Castle.

Emmeline had to raise the hem of her periwinkle-blue skirts, lest she trip.

“What on earth have you planned for Gareth’s birthday?

” she whispered to Xavier as he held out a gloved hand to help her over a particularly uneven section of ground.

“It must be some sort of spectacular surprise for you to go to all this trouble.”

“You’ll soon see,” returned her husband with a mysterious smile. “And yes, it is spectacular.”

Not as spectacular as you , thought Emmeline.

The light breeze was pushing Xavier’s unruly black locks away from his lightly tanned face, and Emmeline had never seen him look so handsome or carefree.

How she loved him and their little family.

She couldn’t wait to share her own surprise with him too.

They made good time—their progress around the point was only slightly hampered by one stubbed toe (Bartholomew’s, which Emmeline tended to with ointment and plaster procured from her gown’s magical Fae pocket)—and within the space of ten minutes, they’d reached the halfway mark.

Indeed, it was Gareth’s squeal of delight that heralded the fact that one could see around the chalk cliff face into the neighboring cove.

“A puff balloon?” the boy cried, pointing at the enormous rainbow-hued hot-air balloon waiting for them on the sand. The balloonist and his pair of attendants waved at them all across the sand. “Cousin Xavier, are we really going on a puff balloon ride for my birthday?”

“It’s a hot-air balloon, you ninny-poop,” said Harry, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Why yes, we are,” returned Xavier, smiling broadly at Gareth. “And when we return, we’ll have a picnic lunch and an ice cream cake.”

“Hooray!” cheered Bartholomew, sore toe forgotten as he led the way through the tumble of rocks toward the beach. Horatio, who’d been following them, was already perched upon a precipice on the very edge of the cove.

“My goodness,” breathed Emmeline. “I’m… I’m speechless.”

“I trust in a good way,” murmured Xavier, smiling down at her.

“Oh yes,” she returned warmly. Then she bit her lip as the secret she was simply bursting to reveal fizzed like champagne bubbles on the tip of her tongue. Was now the time to share it with Xavier, here, on the edge of the dazzling blue sea in the bright summer sunshine?

She glanced toward the children to check on them before turning back to her husband. “Actually, I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you about a surprise of my own,” she murmured huskily as her vision misted.

Xavier’s black brows inched into a slight frown. “A good one too, I hope.”

Oh no, he’d mistaken the reason for her tears. “I like to think so,” said Emmeline, wanting to reassure him. She took one of Xavier’s large hands and placed it against the skirts hiding her belly.

Xavier’s brow dipped even further as his gaze followed their hands. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, my darling husband,” said Emmeline softly, “that I think I might be with child.”

“Good God!” cried Xavier, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline as his eyes met hers. “Really?”

“Really,” whispered Emmeline. “I’m late. By two months.”

Xavier released a wild whoop as he picked her up and swung her around on the path.

Then he seized her mouth in a fervent kiss that had Emmeline’s head spinning with joy.

“I can’t believe it,” he declared exultantly when they at last drew apart, both breathless and giddy and smiling like ninnies.

“I never dreamed I’d be a father at all, let alone four times over.

I’m gobsmacked, Emmeline, my love. And overwhelmed and overjoyed and—” His expression changed and something like concern shadowed his eyes.

“Are you well? Are-Are you sure you’re up to this balloon ride?

I would understand completely if you weren’t. ”

Emmeline laughed. “Of course, I am. Here”—she gave his shoulder a playful poke—“don’t go turning into an anxious mother hen on me. I’m as well as well can be.”

Xavier gave a huff of laughter. “Mother hen? I feel more like a proudly strutting cock right at this moment.”

“You look like one too, what with your chest all puffed out,” teased Emmeline. As Xavier took her arm and they continued to make their way toward the sand, she added, “You know, our lives will be even more chaotic from now on.”

Xavier cast her a wide grin. “In only the best possible way. In fact, I’ve come to embrace the chaos.”

Emmeline leaned her head against his shoulder and squeezed his arm.

“I think we’ll probably need to ask Mrs. Temple to recommend a nanny, or even a governess, after all.

” As they’d decided to sojourn in Kent for an extended summer holiday, they’d delayed employing someone else from the Parasol Academy to help look after the children.

Xavier nodded. “Agreed. We will make it so when we return to London.”

When they reached the children, who were clustered about the wicker basket of the hot-air balloon—Harry was busily interrogating the balloonist about how the balloon inflated and what was its average velocity—Gareth rushed over to Xavier and threw his arms around his middle.

“I love you so much, Cousin Xavier.” When the boy tipped his head back and stared up at his guardian, he added, “Because it’s my birthday, can I call you Papa? And Cousin Emmeline, Mama?”

Emmeline’s heart swelled. Since she’d wed Xavier, and she was no longer officially a nanny but a duchess, the children had decided to call her Cousin Emmeline. She’d never expected any of them to call her “mama,” but in her heart of hearts, she’d rather hoped that they might one day.

And it seemed that day was today. Xavier’s throat bobbed in a swallow as he caught Emmeline’s gaze. “Of course you can, Gareth,” he said thickly, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You can call me ‘Papa’ every day.”

“I, too, would be honored, if you called me ‘Mama,’?” said Emmeline, her voice catching with emotion as well.

“Can we… can we call you ‘Papa’ and ‘Mama,’ too?” asked Harry, almost shyly. She and Bartholomew had wandered closer and had clearly overheard the whole exchange. “We”—she nodded at her brothers—“have been talking about it for a while now, but we didn’t quite know how to ask.”

Xavier’s smile lit his whole face. “I would love that,” he said to Harry. As his gaze met Emmeline’s—his eyes, like hers, shining with happy tears—he added, “It seems we’re officially a family now, in every sense that matters.”

“Indeed,” murmured Emmeline, kneeling down to gather both Harry and Bartholomew into her arms for a hug. “Indeed.”

A short time later, after they’d all bundled into the hot-air balloon’s basket, and the attendants had let loose the moorings tethering the balloon to the beach, Xavier drew Emmeline into the circle of his arms, her back to his front.

In the distance, Horatio swooped and soared, riding the warm air currents before circling back to follow them.

“Do you know how much I love you and our family?” Xavier murmured against her ear as they rose into the cloudless summer sky.

Emmeline sank into him, drinking in his warmth and adoration, just as she drank in the sunshine, and the brilliant view of the English Channel, stretching out before them like a rippling length of royal-blue satin scattered with diamonds of dancing light.

“If it’s as much as I love you and our children and our baby-on-the-way”—threading her fingers through Xavier’s, she drew one of his hands down to her middle—“then it’s boundless. ”

When Xavier tipped her face up and pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth, Emmeline heard a disgruntled groan.

“Ugh, they’re kissing again,” grumbled Bartholomew.

“Oh, leave them alone.” That was Harry. “It’s what husbands and wives who love each other do.”

“Yes, it means our mama and papa are happy,” added Gareth. “Look at the view instead.”

A wolf-whistle from Horatio had Emmeline laughing. As mirth bubbled up inside her, she reluctantly pulled away from Xavier and looked up into his handsome face. His light blue eyes, glowing with happiness and love, clearly proclaimed everything he felt for her without words.

She might not be able to teleport or perform spells like she used to when she was a Parasol nanny, but Emmeline would own that she’d never been more content, and that her life had never felt more magical.

Yes, life was full of endless joy and bright promise. For all of them.