Page 111 of Tremaine's True Love

“We will make a wedding journey of it,” Nita said. “Nicholas has assured me the house we’ve chosen will be entirely refurbished by the time we return. George will steward your acres, and Digby will aid him. I want to meet your grandfather, Tremaine, and he apparently has demanded to meet me.”

Demanding family no longer bothered Nita as it had prior to her marriage, though she’d been happily busy establishing her household with Tremaine. Nicholas had insisted on a family gathering prior to Tremaine and Nita’s departure for Scotland and points distant, even summoning Beckman and Ethan and all their family.

The last time they’d been together had been the old earl’s funeral, and Nita agreed with Nicholas—better to gather for joy than sorrow. Better to assure Tremaine he’d married not only a loving wife, but also an entire clan of loving, if bothersome, in-laws.

George and Elsie had come over from Stonebridge, which George had purchased from Edward for the sum of Edward’s debts. Edward was rumored to be the elderly baronet’s whipping boy, though even the post of charity relation hadn’t lessened Edward’s fondness for gin.

“You’re thinking about him again,” Tremaine said, kissing Nita’s temple. “You’ll upset my son with such unworthy ruminations.”

Nita was carrying a girl. She knew this through some instinct foreign to modern medicine. The Doctors Macallan—a pair of brothers from Aberdeen—laughed at her prediction, but their sister—an experienced midwife—pointed out Nita had as much chance of being right as wrong.

The village had no sooner stopped gossiping about Dr. Horton’s retirement than Vicar had announced his decision to join households with a brother living outside Bath. Lord Fairly’s brother-in-law, a fellow named Daniel Banks, was to assume the Haddondale pulpit within the month.

“George and Elsie live the closest and yet they are the last to arrive,” Nita said as George escorted his wife past a flower bed where daffodils still slumbered beneath cold earth. “Why do you suppose that is?”

“Mrs. George Haddonfield has developed delicate digestion of a morning,” Tremaine said. “One is burdened by such confidences in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable game of cards for no earthly reason I can fathom.”

In other words, Tremaine was overjoyed for George and Elsie, as Nita was.

“Mind your enthusiasm for the topic, Tremaine, or they might name the baby after you.”

As Nita crossed the garden on her husband’s arm, Tremaine peered down at her. “Do you think George might name a boy after me? Bellefonte will be jealous. I rather like the idea, though ‘Tremaine’ might be an awkward name for a girl.”

He was enthralled with the notion, clearly, and when Nita gave birth to a daughter on a lovely autumn morning, Tremaine suggested the child be named Nicolette St. Michael.

The girl’s siblings—of which there was eventually an entire herd—in fact called her Dr. Bo Peep. Nicky St. Michael, much to her parents’ pride, became highly skilled in treating any and all ailments and injuries commonly suffered by sheep.