The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(11)
Scandals aside, she was fast approaching three-and-twenty and the dreaded shelf upon which unmarried ladies languished, stale and unpalatable. At this point, the only men sniffing at her heels were fortune hunters after her dowry, and even she hadn’t quite stooped that low.
The door opened, a welcome distraction. Papa entered with his customary long-limbed stride, and the sight of his earnest features filled Rosie with love that equaled hers for Mama—minus the complications. From the moment Ambrose Kent had entered her life, she’d adored him. Reliable, honorable, and steady of character, Papa had always been her anchor in the storm.
He went to Mama, whose worldly demeanor slipped when he bent to kiss her cheek. The once scandalous widow looked as infatuated as a schoolgirl, Rosie thought with amusement.
“What are my girls up to?” he said.
His warm amber gaze included Rosie and made it easy for her to say lightly, “We were just waiting for you, Papa.”
“And admiring Sophie,” Polly added.
As if she knew she was the center of attention, the babe let out a wail from Polly’s arms.
“I’ll take her,” Mama said.
“You’ve had her all day, my love. Mind if I have a go?” Papa took Sophie from Polly, tucking the babe easily against his checkered waistcoat. “How is my little poppet?”
Rosie felt a queer pang in her bosom: “poppet” was his endearment for her.
You’re being ridiculous. Stop it.
“Watch out for drool, Papa,” she heard herself say. “It stains silk, you know.”
“Does it?” He answered absently, his gaze never straying from his infant daughter.
Footsteps approached, and Rosie’s brother Edward strolled in. At fourteen, he was a replica of Papa with his dark, unruly hair and lanky build, although his brilliant green eyes were a maternal inheritance. He was followed by Sinjin Pelham, the Earl of Revelstoke, and Rosie couldn’t quell the surge of embarrassment at the sight of Polly’s handsome new husband.
Not long ago, she’d made a cake of herself, setting her cap for the earl. She’d wanted him for the usual things: his title, wealth… and, let’s be honest, his Adonis looks hadn’t hurt either. Yet her heart had never been engaged, and she’d acted horribly—the memory scorched her cheeks—when she discovered the romance blooming between the brooding rake and her shy sister.
But what man wouldn’t want Polly—who was good and sweet, so worthy of love? Polly, being Polly, had forgiven Rosie for being a petty brat, a fact that Rosie counted as one of her life’s blessings. Because no man was worth losing Polly over. And seeing the newlyweds standing together now—Revelstoke’s dark virility the perfect foil to Polly’s wholesome, round-cheeked beauty—Rosie knew that the two were meant to be. As well-matched as a pair of bookends.
“What are we discussing?” Edward said without preamble.
Rosie loved her brother who, being a boy and an adolescent, could also be a bit of a pest. He was regrettably brainy and hopeless when it came to matters of fashion (Rosie had to fight the urge to straighten his crooked cravat). Nonetheless, he’d been an unexpected ally since Sophie’s arrival.
“We’re on the topic of babies,” Rosie said innocently.
“Again?” Heaving a sigh, Edward muttered, “No offense, Sophie.”
Papa’s dark brows rose. “What would you rather talk about, son?”
“Your work, for one,” Edward said. “I was hoping to get some tips.”
Papa was London’s best investigator, and his firm, Kent and Associates, was in high demand. Edward had decided, along with his cousin Freddy, to follow in Papa’s footsteps. Hence, the two fourteen-year-old boys were constantly underfoot, practicing their “detection” skills.
Papa gave a rueful shake of his head. “I’m sure such talk would bore present company.”
“I would be interested,” Edward protested, “and Revelstoke would be too, wouldn’t you?”
“Actually,”—the earl cleared his throat—“Polly and I have some news to share. Sorry, Edward, old boy, but it’s in the familial vein.”
Seeing the bright glances exchanged between the newlyweds, Rosie gasped, “Polly… are you… are you expecting?”
Blushing, Polly nodded. “The babe will come next summer.”
Gladness for her sister brimmed over in Rosie. As congratulations and calls for champagne filled the room, she rushed forward to clasp the other’s hands.
“Oh, my dearest, I’m so happy for you,” she breathed.
Polly squeezed her hands in return, their shared smiles celebrating the joy of the moment.
~~~
After supper, the men retired to the study for cigars and brandy, and Mama headed up for an early night. Which left Rosie and Polly alone to finally have a cozy chat. As they had done so many times as girls, they curled up side by side on Rosie’s bed.
“I can’t believe you’re going to be a mama,” Rosie said in wonder.
Next to her, Polly relaxed against a mound of pillows, her blue skirts fanning over the coverlet. “Trust me, I haven’t gotten used to the notion myself. Or even that of being married.”
“Clearly, you’ve gotten the hang of one marital activity.”
“Primrose Kent.” The other’s attempt to appear severe was ruined by her giggles. “What do you know of such things?”