Page 65 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
She was remarkably energized. When she asked Hannah if such a thing was normal, the other woman smiled and shook her head.
“Most women are exhausted, your ladyship. But you had a short labor.”
She could barely remember the pain as she held Elliot close to her breasts. A knock disturbed the perfect peace of the moment.
She whispered to Hannah, “Tell her anything, but please get rid of her.”
Enid was banished by the simple expediency of another lie: Virginia was sleeping.
“A good thing I didn’t listen to her, but to my own instinct,” Enid said to Hannah at the door, sounding annoyed. “I told the girl it was too soon.”
When she had left, Hannah returned to the bed, smiling down at Elliot. He started to fuss, tiny sounds of distress that were somehow, Virginia thought, connected to her heart. He thrust his hands into the air, wrinkled his face and pursed his lips.
“We need to get him to the wet nurse,” Hannah said.
Another point of contention, one in which Virginia had remained silent. Enid assumed a wet nurse would be hired. Virginia wanted to tend to her child herself.
“I’m not giving him to a wet nurse,” she said now. “I’m feeding him.” She opened her nightgown and put her son to her breast.
Hannah didn’t say anything, but silence didn’t mean acceptance.
“I know it isn’t done,” she said, meeting the maid’s eyes. “But I’m doing it.”
Hannah surprised her by smiling. “Then we’d best be about it, shouldn’t we?”
Elliot Traylor, eleventh Earl of Barrett made a mewling sound before he started to suckle.
Chapter 17
London
June, 1870
The garden was lovely on this pleasant June afternoon. Eudora had coaxed the most wonderful blossoms from the plants in the corner. They smelled of roses although they didn’t look similar. Combined with the scent of the honeysuckle, it was a perfect scented breeze, almost enough to counter the smells of London.
The sun warmed the bench where Virginia sat near a topiary bush. Elliot lay in her arms, asleep, his face twitching from time to time. Did he dream baby dreams? Or was he getting ready to awaken, hungry again?
Carefully, so as not to wake him, she tenderly adjusted the blanket below his chin with her fingers.
When Hannah had gone to fetch tea, she’d escaped to the garden, cherishing the moments alone with her son.
No one could have been as sweet or kind as Eudora and Ellice. Eudora had sewn all the clothes Elliot could possibly need, while Ellice added new lace to Lawrence’s christening gown for the ceremony scheduled next month.
Most of the time, one of her sisters-in-law hovered around her son, commenting on his every movement, his surprising black hair when no one in the family had a similar shade, or how much his nose resembled Lawrence’s.
Truly, such slavish adoration could not be good for the child. Look at Lawrence. Everyone in his family had treated him the same way.
Enid remained silent, except for praising the rate at which Elliot was growing. Only she and Enid knew he was a few weeks early. To the rest of the family, he had been born on time.
His lips twitched in sleep.
When she made the comment that she loved his smile, Enid shook her head. “He’s much too young to smile. He merely has stomach distress.”
Elliot woke and gurgled at her, his deep blue eyes fixed on her face. Suddenly, Macrath was in her thoughts so sharply she could almost see him.
She wasn’t going to wonder how long the voyage to Australia was or how dangerous. It would be foolish to worry about him getting sick. He was strong and healthy, not a newborn babe or a sickly mother. He would return. Would he come back with a wife?
If so, it was none of her concern.
