Page 103 of The Rakehell of Roth
“Getting his lovely bride to the altar in good time.” He shot her a conspiratorial grin. “Throwing my ducal weight around has its uses. No one wants to mess with the big bad duke.”
Lips twitching, she shot him an arch glance. “That’s clever.”
“You’re only realizing this now?” he asked.
They shared a laugh and then walked together to the edge of the huge garden terrace at Vance House. Isobel glanced to the lawns where a game of lawn cricket for the children was being set up by Violet and Molly, while the intimidating Duke of Beswick was trying to teach his four-year-old daughter Philippa how to bowl the ball while he also tried to keep a close eye on his mischievous two-year-old son Maxton, who was supposed to be fielding. Though Max was busy eating a handful of grass at the moment.
“Max, no!” Beswick groaned, bending down to wipe his son’s fingers clean.
“But I’m a bunny, Papa,” the boy insisted. “And bunnies get hungry when hopping.”
The duke nodded and gave him a kiss. “After this game, we’ll have a proper snack for little boys. Grass will make you ill, and we don’t want to miss out on cakes later, do we?”
The boy’s eyes lit up as he nodded enthusiastically.
Meanwhile at the other end of the makeshift cricket pitch, Isobel’s husband was showing their fifteen-month-old son how to hit, meaning that Winter was clutching a squirming toddler in one arm while attempting to swing a bat with the other. Unlike his quiet twin sister—older by a mere twelve minutes—James Darcy Vance had come screaming into the world like a warrior with a cap of blond fuzz and his father’s gray eyes. Also blessed with his father’s devilish charm, and much like his sister, he already had his grandfather wrapped firmly around his finger.
“Winter,” Isobel called out, trying not to wake Juliet, though she slept like the dead. “He’s going to get clocked in the eye.”
Both her son and her husband looked in the direction of her voice, and her heart filled with an incandescent joy at the sight of the two male loves of her life. Her son definitely favored his father in looks.
“He’s a natural,” Winter crowed. “Going for the boundaries on this one.”
“Careful with my namesake,” Kendrick called out as Violet got ready to bowl the first ball.
Winter grinned. “Perhaps you should come down here and show him how it’s done, then.”
Isobel shook her head as the prim and proper duke discarded his coat and gloves, skipped down the steps, and joined the mêlée to squeals of delight by the children. Isobel had the sneaking suspicion he’d been secretly feeding them sweets all week, much to the dismay of their parents. That said, it was wonderful how much the twins had brought their father and grandfather together. They often did things as a foursome, which delighted Kendrick to no end. And Isobel knew that he loved seeing his son working at being the best father he could be.
The children’s nanny approached and Isobel passed the sleeping Juliet off with gratitude. Not that she didn’t love holding her daughter, but she was heavy. It was time for her nap anyway. Soon, James would follow, though he would battle until the last second before his eyes gave in to sleep.
Her sister Astrid came up beside her where she was leaning on the balustrade and offered her a glass of champagne. Isobel smiled and declined, hiding her sudden blush. “I can’t.”
Astrid’s eyes widened. “Are you…?”
“Possibly. I’ve only just found out.”
“Congratulations,” Astrid said. “Does Winter know?”
Isobel shook her head and bit her lip. “I haven’t told him yet. I’m a bit afraid to tell him. He’s only just gotten comfortable with being a father to a pair of rambunctious twins.”
Astrid fought laughter. “Didn’t he tell you he wanted eight children?”
“He did, but I think he changed his mind after the first few months of no sleep with James and Juliet. Even with a children’s nurse, he insisted on trying things himself.”
“He’s a good father,” Astrid said, her eyes panning from her own husband and children to where Winter stood with Kendrick and James. “How have things been?”
This time Isobel couldn’t hide her telltale flush. “Can’t complain.”
“Goodness, with a blush like that, it’s no wonder you’re with child.” Astrid barked a laugh and nudged her fondly in the shoulder. “My, how far you’ve come from that little girl who turned her nose up at anything that wasn’t proper.”
“I guess she grew up.”
Astrid met her gaze. “Into a remarkable woman. I’m proud to call you my sister, you know. Even though at times it’s hard to believe that the scandalous Lady Darcy came from that prim head of yours.”
“And Clarissa’s.”
“Oy, wenches, did I hear my name?” Clarissa squealed, edging her way between them and flinging an arm over each of their shoulders.
