Page 39 of The Duke's Bride in Disguise
"Ido," Theo said, giving her a brotherly wink. At four and thirty, Theo was fourteen years older than his sister, and so would have been of an age to remember his sister's arrival into the world. "I was down from Eton on Long Leave. Mama must have gone into labour on my first day back, for I was given full responsibility to keep Jack, Michael and Timothy entertained for three days—no easy task, I can tell you!"
"I doubt that labouring for three days was an easy task for your mother," Beatrice interjected, giving her husband a quelling glare.
"No," Lord Fairfax took up the baton to continue the tale, "It was not. Your poor Mama quite nearly expired from it all, and I had a dreadful bout of gout for weeks after—Dr Philips reckoned it was from the brandy."
"The brandy," Ava echoed stupidly, as her mind pondered this new information. If the marchioness had given birth, as it appeared she had, what had happened to that baby?
"Though, it was worth all the pain," Lord Fairfax continued, "For your mother at last had the daughter she so craved."
"And Timothy was saved from her attempts to dress him as a girl," Theo added with a snort of laughter, referring to the youngest Fairfax boy.
"That only happened the once," Lord Fairfax sternly admonished his son, "And the poor boy never lived it down—look, he's gone all the way to France to escape your jibes."
The conversation descended into gentle bickering, as Theo and Lord Fairfax debated the many fights and scrapes that the four Fairfax boys had got into over the years. From the sound of it, each kept a very detailed scorecard, for Theo was able to recall slights made against him, that had happened decades before.
"Oh, dear," Beatrice whispered across the table to Ava, "I rather fear I shall have two children on my hands."
Ava would have offered words to contradict her, but Beatrice continued on before she had a chance; "The duke will make a splendid father," she said, casting Ava a conspiratorial, womanly glance, "He is quite serious, though that is what a child needs—a rule maker, rather than a rule breaker."
To add credence to her words, Theo, who had been gesticulating wildly, knocked over his wine glass, sending a river of merlot across the pristine white table cloth.
"Oops a daisy," he said with a sheepish grin, making to wipe it with his napkin, but somehow he managed to knock over Lord Fairfax's wine glass in the process, right into Beatrice's lap, and that was the end of dinner.
Instead of retiring for tea, Beatrice and Theo left for their own home in Belgravia, and Lord Fairfax disappeared into his library, leaving Ava quite alone with her thoughts. Feeling restless, she padded from room to room, until at last, she settled herself upon a comforting armchair in the drawing room, to think.
Instead of the circumstances of her birth, however, Ava's mind now rested on what Beatrice had said about the duke. Kilbride would make a good father, Ava decided, as she recalled how attentive he had been with Georgiana, during his visits to Mr Hobbs'. He was serious, that much was true, and if one took him on first impressions, he also seemed rather cold and distant—haughty, even.
Ava, however, had seen past the duke's cool facade, and had found a man struggling with grief and the burdens of a title he had not wanted. His heart, as much as he tried to hide it, was good, as evidenced by his avowal to take up the cause of the climbing boys. The duke was, Ava knew, hopelessly and utterly lost, and probably as lonely as she.
Which was why she had to try harder to push him away. She was not Emily, she could not, in good conscience, allow what was developing between them to continue—for there was something between them, she could feel it. The startling feeling of understanding, every time their eyes met, was not just affecting her. She had seen it in his eyes yesterday, and worse, she had seen a flicker of hope there too.
That flicker had sent Ava into a spiral of guilt and despair—for she knew only too well what it felt like, to hope and wish for someone to love, someone who felt like home.
"Are you still up, dear?"
Lord Fairfax stood in the doorway of the drawing room, a candle in hand. The evening had quickly given away to night and Ava was startled to find that the fire in the grate had died away.
"I am just about to retire, Papa," Ava replied, standing and giving a cat-like stretch, "I was thinking and lost track of the time."
"As was I," the marquess replied sadly.
Ava glanced over at him, and saw that his face was drawn into a sad frown. Catching her eye, the marquess gave a reluctant laugh, and reached out his arm to draw her into a paternal hug.
"I am a sentimental old fool," Lord Fairfax said with a shaky laugh, "I was thinking back upon when you were all children, and how happy your mother and I were."
"You will have a grandchild to dote upon soon," Ava replied, "Think of how exciting it will be, to have a new person in the family."
"Indeed, you are right," Lord Fairfax said, as he placed his arm around Ava's shoulder and guided her toward the stairs, "And what a lucky life I have led, to have loved so many people. I only hope that you will know the same, my girl."
"As do I, Papa," Ava replied in a whisper. For, just like the duke, Ava's soul yearned for a place to call home, though no matter how she wished it, she would not find it with Kilbride.
"If I didn't know any better," a low voice whispered in Ava's ear, "I would swear that you were trying to avoid me."
It was Friday evening, and Ava had been standing in the parlour room of Kilbride House, where the dowager duchess had gathered a large crowd for hermusicale. Ava had been leaning, in a rather unladylike way, against the far wall of the room, which was as far away from the pianoforte as she could manage. It had also acted as a hiding place from the duke—not that she was going to tell him that.
