Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(39)
“Your dream would have been to wake up before you ever met me,” North said, his hand stroking down her back and curling around her side. He put his head back, a wave of exhaustion closing over him.
Diana threaded the fingers of one hand through his, and he felt her body relax against his. Their closeness wasn’t sensual, not just now. Her fingers wound around his with strength, and her slight weight felt like a mountain pinning him to the here and now.
To this room, this castle, this woman, this contented moment.
“I’m sorry, North,” she said, when he was on the very edge of tumbling into sleep.
“No apologies,” he said groggily. “You don’t love me. I understand that. You can’t choose how you feel, any more than the mad playwright chose to be mad.”
“Are you talking about the author of Wilde in Love?” she asked, her voice confused.
But sleep overtook him before he could answer.
Chapter Nine
The next day
It was close to two in the afternoon before they heard a rumble of carriage wheels in the distance. Diana sent up a silent prayer of thanks, because she was at her wit’s end. Artie was driving her mad.
They had found Fitzy irritably stalking around the Peacock Terrace. They had visited the finch’s nest four times. The first three times, a little brown bird was snug on her nest. The last time, its mate had been poised on the edge and flew away when they poked their heads from the window, so the children were able to count the eggs.
At the sound of a carriage, Artie looked up at Diana. “Mama?” she asked, for perhaps the fiftieth time.
“Yes!” Diana cried, after a quick look out the window. A plume of dust in the far distance translated to the train of carriages that accompanied the Duke of Lindow’s family: carriages holding the duke and duchess, at least four and possibly seven Wilde offspring, personal maids and valets, six or seven grooms, a few footmen, and anything else deemed necessary for travel.
Artie screamed with ear-piercing joy and spun in circles until she made herself dizzy. Then she grabbed Godfrey’s hand. “Downstairs, Free!”
“Wait!” Diana looked over both of them. Just because they didn’t always dress to their rank didn’t mean that they hadn’t proper clothing, no matter how Boodle used to complain.
They were clean and their curls brushed until they shone. Artie was wearing an enchanting ruffled gown with a translucent silk overlay embroidered with rosebuds. Godfrey wasn’t dressed as expensively, since Diana paid for his clothing, but he had on neat brown pantaloons, a dark blue jacket with red cuffs, and a lacy collar to his shirt.
She held out a hand to each. “Let’s go dazzle everyone with Artie’s new teeth.”
Artie jumped up and down, clapping her jaw together so her teeth were on display. “I want my feather!”
“I’m not certain that a peacock feather will suit your gown,” Diana said coaxingly.
Artie disagreed; her lips pursed in a testy pout. Diana gave in, crushing Artie’s curls with a strip of cloth that tied in back, allowing a peacock feather glued to the fabric to wave in the air. Then they all started down the stairs, Artie clutching her doll and Godfrey his wooden horse.
As the stream of carriages bowled down the avenue of ancient chestnut trees that led to the castle, Prism began ushering the household out the front door. In short order, more than a hundred servants stood outside in the sunshine, grouped according to their positions in the household.
Lady Knowe, clad in a magnificent purple gown with no fewer than four plumes on her bonnet, was striding from group to group, offering praise. To everyone working in the castle dairy, “Milk has been fine lately, and I commend the cheddar!” To the chef, “Splendid meat pies last night, but no more lambs’ tongues. Curious though it seems, my nephew turned green.”
Diana looked over the crowd, but North was nowhere to be seen. “Where is he?” she heard Lady Knowe demanding, her braying tones carrying on the breeze.
Artie, Godfrey, and Diana walked over to join the children’s favorite footmen, Frederick and Peter. Soon Artie was bouncing and squealing on Peter’s shoulders, and Godfrey was waving happily from his perch on Frederick’s.
One might think that the duke and duchess would travel in the first carriage. But no, that door flung open before the liveried groom could approach. As Leonidas and Alexander Wilde sprang out, sun shone on thick black hair, on strong jaws and noble noses, on cheekbones that would make a king gasp with jealousy, on lips that would make a queen feel faint.
It really wasn’t fair. How could one family be gifted with so much? But then, they had lost Horatius, Diana reminded herself.
North appeared at last. He strode out of the front door and headed toward his brothers. The three of them met in the middle of the castle courtyard, engaging in the rough-and-tumble greetings that young men liked.
Watching them, Diana thought that Leonidas and Alexander were like young lions testing their strength, whereas North had the burly strength of a leader of the pride. The idea was so foolish that she felt her cheeks heating with embarrassment.
All the same, she couldn’t take her eyes away from North. He wore no coat, and the muscles in his broad back showed through his linen shirt. His breeches weren’t nearly as tight as those he used to wear, and yet they emphasized the muscles in his thighs.