Page 58 of To Tame the Wild Rake
Haverford Castle, June 1830
Lady Sarah Grenford was not at all impressed with the scrap of humanity ensconced in the Haverford cradle. “He is very little, Papa,” she complained. “He cannot walk. He cannot talk. All he does is cry and sleep. I wanted someone to play with.”
“He will grow, Princess Sally,” Haverford assured her, his own eyes devouring the heir his duchess had delivered, much to the surprise of them both, after fifteen years of marriage.
Sally expressed her opinion in a noise that was rude even for a lady of only seven. “Humph!” Haverford should probably reprimand her, but her nurses did enough of that, and if he did spoil her, just a little, Cherry would make sure she kept her feet on the ground. He kissed her cheek, instead.
Sally had not finished. “I do not know why you and Mama needed another baby. You have me.”
“We have so much love to give, Sally darling,” Cherry said from the bed, “that you were all filled up with it, so we needed another baby to have the love left over.” Haverford lifted his daughter in his arms and carried her with him while he crossed to the bed to kiss his wife’s cheek.
“I hope we did not wake you, Cherry mine.”
Her hand came up to caress his face and she smiled. “His little lordship will be awake shortly and demanding his lunch. Perhaps you might call for tea, Anthony? I would like a cup while he is still asleep.”
“I will do it, Mama!” Sally offered, wriggling to get down.
Cherry and Haverford, hands clasped, watched her strut importantly to the door and open it to give her message to a hall boy. “I am the most blessed of men,” Haverford murmured to his wife. “You filled my cup to overflowing just by becoming mine, then you gave me our Sally, and now…” He chuckled even as his eyes watered. “My cup of happiness is much bigger than I ever dreamed possible.”
Cherry squeezed his hand. “Mine, too, Anthony.”
Sally came skipping back to the bed. “When is Lord Aldridge going to wake up, Papa?” she asked.
Haverford raised an eyebrow. “Who told you to call him Lord Aldridge, darling?”
“Nurse. She said he is the Marquis of Aldridge, and I must treat him the respect that is due to the heir of the House of Haverford.” The mutinous curl to her lip showed what the little girl thought of that instruction.
Haverford picked her up and put her on the bed beside her mother, who wrapped an arm around her and tucked her into her side. “Nurse is usually right, my precious, but in this instance, she is wrong. Your little brother is the Marquis of Aldridge and he is heir to the House of Haverford. But he is also your baby brother, and a dear little boy. Do you remember his name?”
She wrinkled her nose in concentration. “Jonathan Anthony Charles George Grenford,” she pronounced, correctly, and beamed at her own cleverness.
“Precisely,” Haverford agreed. “Call your baby brother Jonny, Princess. Mama and I plan to do so. I will have a word with Nurse. In our family, he will always be a person first and a title second.”
He put an arm around both his ladies and kissed the cheek of the woman to whom he had always been Anthony. Then, when the hope of the Haverfords set up the mew that signalled a coming demand for Food Now, the Duke of Haverford returned to the cradle to bring Jonny into the circle of arms.
THE END
