Page 146 of Rakes & Reticules
“There’s the spirit, boyo. I’m Paddy O’Brien.MisterO’Brien ta the likes of ye.” He chuckled, a warm rumbling sound that made Sam smile too—his first in months. “I think my Kate will take ta ye, once she’s cleaned ye up.”
CHAPTERONE
July 1820
Cheapside, London
The front door opened, bringing with it the clatter of horse hoofs, the stench of the city, and a handsome dark-haired man with a roguish smile. “Luvvy, I’m home.”
Mrs. Robert Dunn met him with a grin and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Did you miss me?”
“Always.” He gave her a sound kiss, pulling her close and swinging her in a circle before setting her down with a smack on her arse. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”
Dorothea shook her head. “Not tonight. We are celebrating, and I won’t tolerate anything dour.” She pulled him to the wingback chair in front of the coal stove. “I’ll pour you some brandy.”
Robert eased his stocky frame into the chair with a heavy sigh. “I suppose it can wait.” His nostrils twitched and he nodded toward the “kitchen” at the other end of the room. “What magic are you working in there, luvvy?”
A rabbit sizzled over the small hearth fire, and a loaf of bread waited on the table with freshly churned butter. Shortbread—her husband’s favorite—was hidden away in a basket. A perfect dinner for their first anniversary.
Dorothea untied her apron and eased it over her head, careful not to muss her hair. Arranged in a loose chignon, she took a quick peek at the dulled mirror and pulled down some of her auburn curls to nestle against her cheeks.
“You’re wearing my favorite gown,” Robert said with a wink. “I thought of your eyes when I bought it.” He had given her the deep-blue muslin dress last Christmas. A white satin ribbon emphasized the high waist and delicate lace bordered the modest neckline and cap sleeves.
“You say that every time I wear it.” She had begun sewing tiny delicate birds of peace along the hem. It would be perfect to wear again during next Christmastide. The white wings seemed to take flight as she moved across the small parlor to rejoin her husband.
She handed him a cup, and he took it, pulling her onto his lap along with the drink. “I swear you get prettier every day. How did I get so lucky?”
With a laugh, she pushed off his lap. “You charmed me before I knew any better.”
“You stole my heart at first glance.” He nuzzled her neck, making her giggle. “Remember?”
“How could I forget?”
She had taken some of her students from the Darlington School for Girls into the nearby village. Dorothea, then Miss Brown, had been employed there as an instructor of French, household accounts (knowledge mandatory for every good wife), and the pianoforte. With their proximity to London, many wealthy merchants sent their daughters there for “polish.”
“Here I was, minding my own business—”
“Whistling at ladies is not minding your own business,” she interrupted with a giggle, stroking her hand through his thick black hair.
“Who’s telling this story?” Robert’s dark eyes twinkled as he tugged on one of her curls. “Here comes this gaggle of girls”—he held up a finger when she opened her mouth—“tittering and pretending not to look at me. Their chaperone is gaping so hard that she trips and falls right into my arms.”
She kissed his cheek. “And they lived happily ever after.”
“It did take six months of wooing to get you to say yes, luvvy.”
“Do you regret it?” Why did she always ask him this? Because she’d never expected to find a husband and have a family. A spinster helping other young ladies find happiness had been her future. And she’d been more than satisfied with her lot until Mr. Robert Dunn had burst into her life.
“Never. And you? Are you happy?”
His sudden serious demeanor sent a shiver up her spine. Something was wrong.Tomorrow. Ask tomorrow.“Only one thing could make it better,” she whispered in his ear.
“That will come, luvvy. In fact, the more we try—”
“The sooner I’ll be with child.” She grinned as he threw back the whiskey and stood, cradling her in his arms.
“Enough said.”
* * *
