Page 43 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)
London, England
July 1830
Ten Years Later
L eith had never seen a house party so large—or so boisterous.
Trem and Henrietta had insisted on inviting everyone to Tremberley Manor to celebrate the July birthdays. Because, as luck would have it, each of the formerly scandalous gentlemen once known collectively as the Rank Rakes had sired a son and heir born in July.
There was John and Catherine’s son, Griffin, the Marquess of Forster, and heir to the dukedom, who had been born on the tenth, and who, this year, was thirteen. And then there were the two nine-year-olds: Trem’s son, Hugh, born on the twenty-first, and his own son, Luke, born on the twenty-third. And Olivia and Monty’s son, Henry, had just turned seven on the twenty-eighth.
They were now gathered on the thirtieth of July to celebrate each child. It had become, in fact, a bit of a tradition over the years.
And the fact, John had said sotto vocce earlier that day, that the four of them had lived long enough to see the wrong side of forty—without contracting the pox or some other horrible form of personal ruination—was a miracle. John’s statement, Leith knew, left implied the astounding fact that they had each found remarkable, deep love, which as young men, for their different reasons, they had all regarded as impossible.
Now, Leith looked around the party, which was sprawled out over the gardens where he knew John had once taken Catherine for that illicit wander, all of those years ago. His friend had kissed his wife once on these ruins and been changed for life.
Leith sighed. So much time had passed since back then and so much had changed. His own children, all three of them, were growing up so fast that he couldn’t believe it. It made his chest ache to see them how they shed their baby selves, the ones that he and their mother had loved so dearly, and become again and again someone new.
In the end, their family had split their time between London and Somerset. Beatrice could never stand to be away from Parkhorne Hall for long, so they had bought a small estate nearby. They spent part of every summer there, when they weren’t visiting Trem or John at their estates, and then spent the season in London. While some of the ton had never accepted his wife fully, it had never mattered to them. Not when they had his friends, wealthy and powerful and loving, to drown out the sound (and influence) of any detractors.
He gazed across the lawn at the other guests. So many had come for their sons, it was really quite moving. He fixed his eyes on his mother and her husband, who were engaged in spinning hoops with his daughters, Lavinia and Eleanora, the latter of whom had been named for her grandmother, Beatrice’s mother. And indeed, right now, Mrs. Salisbury, stood close by, next to her beloved Mrs. Westmore, and they appeared to be deep in conversation with his boy, Luke.
Right next to Luke, Sally stood with her own little family. Charles had one of their sons on his shoulders and Fred was spinning both of their daughters round at once.
“Don’t tell me you are feeling wistful,” said a familiar voice. Leith turned towards Monty and smiled.
“I know, I know, you never thought you would see the day when I turned sentimental.”
Monty laughed. “Not at all. I always knew you were sentimental. It is why you were the last of us to marry. You had trouble saying goodbye to the old ways. No, what is harder to believe is that you wouldn’t mind showing it.”
“Age has made me soft, I suppose.”
“It’s good,” Monty said. “It suits you. I am sorry, brother, about Beatrice—”
“No, no, please,” he said, batting away his concern. He did not want to talk of it. Not now. “She would have liked to be here.”
Monty nodded. And then John and Trem appeared over his shoulder on either side of them.
“Come, it is nearly time. They are serving the cake. The children might not survive their ecstasy.”
“We may have violence between Griffin and Lavinia over a caramel tart,” Trem said with a laugh. “Who knew both would prefer caramel tart? It is deuced unlucky.”
“Well,” Monty said, a private smile on his face, “caramel has always been a favorite in our house.”
They moved towards the large table that Trem’s now retired steward, Mr. Foxcroft, had insisted on setting up himself. The old man sat at the table now, his wife, the former Mrs. Morrison and housekeeper at John’s country seat of Edington Hall, holding his hand. The couple beamed up at Henrietta, who was presiding over puddings of all varieties in addition to a truly enormous cake.
“That, Henrietta,” Leith said, letting some of his old disapproval leak into his voice, even though they hardly quarreled any longer, “is the most monstrous cake I have ever seen.”
“Do not blame me Leith, if you dare. Blame my mother,” she said, gesturing to the woman who stood by her, the former, who had now been, for many years, Mrs. Ryerson. “She made it. Insisted upon it, really.”
“If I can’t spoil my grandchildren, then I don’t see the point,” the woman said, her strange blue-black eyes, so like her niece Catherine’s, sparkling with mischief. Once, Mary Forster and her illicit relationship with John’s father had been the reason that John and Catherine could not be together—but it had been ages since anyone considered such a possibility. It was not widely known in society that Mary was Henrietta’s mother, but among their little circle, it was merely reality.
“Oh, Augustus,” said Olivia, bustling up to the table, holding her youngest son’s hand. “There you are. William wants you to serve him his pudding.”
“Come here, you scoundrel,” Monty said, scooping the boy up into his arms.
At that same moment, Leith felt a tug on his own sleeve, and looked down. It was his own son, his only one, Luke. While Lavinia was the child who reminded him most of Beatrice, it was Luke who had inherited her eyes. They had that dark, nearly opaque mystery that he had found so alarming on the first day he had met his beloved wife.
“Is it time for pudding?” the boy said hopefully.
“Yes, my love,” he said.
The boy surveyed the offerings. “Mother would have liked the chocolate,” Luke said sadly.
“She would have,” he said, trying not to sound melancholy himself.
Just at that moment, Catherine appeared, holding a giant bowl of strawberries.
“Henrietta spent all morning preparing these. It would have been a shame to forget them.”
“Ah, yes,” Henrietta said with a laugh, turning towards her husband. “Strawberries are my favorite fruit.”
“And here I thought they were mine .” Trem smiled back.
It was not the first innuendo Leith had heard regarding strawberries between Trem and Henrietta—but he was choosing to remain ignorant of their intimations. He did not want to know. The many passing years had not changed that, at the very least.
“Unfortunately, they don’t cook with my favorite sweet. I’ve even been known to suck it from my wife’s fingers.”
“John!” Catherine objected. “You are really too bad.”
“What!” he said. “I meant ink . Because your fingers always have ink on them.”
Monty, Leith, and Trem rolled their eyes in unison, but Catherine merely laughed and snuggled closer to her husband.
The other guests had gathered around the table. Trem was, apparently, going to say a few words in honor of the July birthdays.
Leith looked at all the faces in the crowd. Some were mere acquaintances to him and were his own family. But it warmed him to know that each person here loved someone he loved deeply.
There were the members of Monty’s family who had managed to make it: his younger sister, Petunia, and her husband, Edgar, and their little girls; his mother and her new husband, a man she had met many years ago in France; and one of his other sisters, Willa, and her wife, Lily. Monty’s brother, Percy, was in attendance as well, with his wife Natasha, who was the daughter of Olivia’s oldest friend, Eloisa. Eloisa watched the children eye the desserts with her husband and her son, Nathanial, and his wife, Althea.
And still yet there were more people that Leith knew and had fondness for. Henrietta’s best friend, Mrs. Burnbridge, and her husband, were here, as was Catherine’s former guardian, Mrs. Edersby, and her son, Ariel, and his new wife.
Even Lord Stratton and Mr. Pennington had come up for the occasion. Long gone were the days when he had regarded the two men as unpleasant reminders of his own advancing age. Especially since it had been quite some years since he had understood that the two men were in love themselves—at some point, the two one-time rakes had gone from hunting courtesans to pursuing each other.
In short, it was a wonderful collection of people. It wasn’t everyone who was important, but it was close.
Of course, Leith reflected, without Beatrice here, true perfection—true happiness—would always remain impossible.
“Papa!” he heard his daughter cry, and then felt arms twining around his waist. He looked down to find Eleanora embracing him. She was shortly joined by Lavinia.
“Good afternoon to you, my darlings,” he said, hugging his daughters back. Soon, Luke joined his siblings and all of his children embraced him at once.
Yes, he thought, his eyes filling with tears, it was almost perfect.
“Thank you,” Trem began, “to all who traveled to be here for this party held in honor of our children. We are here to celebrate them, but we are also here to celebrate more than three decades of friendship between myself and my best friends—John, Monty, and Leith. Life is long and friendships can break easily. But we have all of us an uncommon bond. And for their friendship, I am forever grateful.”
Now, tears really threatened. He managed, underneath the embrace of his children, to tip his glass back in Trem’s direction.
“Now, please,” Trem said. “Enjoy this frankly terrifying selection of puddings.”
The children, including his own, needed no further encouragement. They pounced on the puddings.
“My, I would have regretted missing that sight.”
Leith whirred around.
There she was.
It was really her.
His Beatrice.
His love.
His unusual, radiant darling.
She had managed, somehow, to arrive in time.
She was still in her traveling clothes, but she looked as beautifully touch-me-not and imperious as the first day that he had met her.
He lunged towards her, hauling him against her.
“We heard the roads from Somerset were impassable.”
She had gone to help Malcolm at Parkhorne a week ago and had promised to meet them at Tremberley by the day of this celebration. But her letter a few days ago had warned that the roads were bad—and the news in town today had confirmed it.
“Malcolm couldn’t countenance me missing it, not on his behalf. And I was scarcely less desperate myself. I would have hated to disappoint the children. And you should see Malcolm, my love, who he has brought—well, I think it has finally happened—he has found—”
“Malcolm is with you?” he said, in surprise.
“Yes, he insisted on seeing me here himself.”
Leith had grown to admire his brother-in-law, but he had never thought he had rated him so highly as in this moment.
“And what of me, my love? Were you eager to see me?”
“Oh, you?” she said, the corners of her mouth pulling downwards in a smirk. “Yes, I suppose I wanted to see you. Just a little.”
Her fingers were on his waistcoat. Her lips were nearly on his.
“Now, now, Leith,” said Henrietta. “What is this? We cannot have it in front of the children.”
“That’s right, my friend,” Trem said. “Such displays will corrupt them for life.”
“If you begin kissing your wife, then we will all have to kiss ours,” Monty added.
“And then it will never end.” John laughed.
“I don’t think the children would notice,” Olivia objected. “They only have eyes for their pudding.”
“No, they certainly would not,” Catherine added. “We may think ourselves very scandalous, but, to them, we rank below pudding as a point of interest.”
“On second thought, they do frequently see similar demonstrations at home,” Henrietta supplied.
“Well, in that case,” Beatrice said. “I see no reason not to greet my husband with a kiss.”
Then she did it. She kissed him.
And so Leith kissed the woman that he loved, the one who had changed his life, the one person he needed beyond all others, in front of his oldest and best friends, and his happiness was complete.
The End