William and Gage Thornton resembled each other in more ways than just looks, Shemaine decided after trying to keep them both abed for more than a day. Though Gage was still suffering from a throbbing headache the next morning, he completed his regular chores and then went back to work in the cabinet shop. That same afternoon, while Shemaine was out in front of the cabin washing clothes in the stream, his father attempted to make his way from the loft to the privy outside, even though a chamber pot had been placed conveniently at hand. After descending most of the stairs, he became faint, lost his balance, and toppled down the remaining steps, ripping open a goodly number of stitches and, in the process, starting the blood flowing again. Andrew witnessed the event from the back corridor and, wide-eyed with fear, ran out to the front porch to yell for Shemaine to come back quickly and help his grandfather.
The clothes went flying helter-skelter, and by the time she arrived, William had pushed the tail of his nightshirt down over his naked loins, restoring his modesty to some degree, and pulled himself to a sitting position against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. The grimace on his face conveyed the pain he was suffering. Still, he uttered no more than a choked-off moan when Shemaine tried to haul him to his feet. William was too weak to lend her much assistance and too heavy for her to lift alone, as much as Andrew tried to help her.
“Andy, go get your father at the cabinet shop,” she bade. “And hurry!”
Gage returned in short order with Sly Tucker, and between the two of them, they carried William back to his bed. His lordship, anxious to preserve propriety with a lady present in the room, dragged the sheet up over his waist before he would allow them to strip off the bloodstained nightshirt. It was Shemaine who gently swabbed his back clean while Gage pressed a towel firmly against the rent in an effort to stem the fresh flow of blood.
“Is Gran’pa goin’ to be all right?” Andrew asked worriedly, reluctant to come any closer than the top of the stairs, for the sight of so much gore had frightened the boy.
Shemaine offered a smile of encouragement. “Your grandfather is going to be just fine, Andy. He’s too ornery to allow a little mishap like this to trouble him.”
Flushing red with chagrin, William shot a glance toward the girl and promptly became the recipient of a pointedly eloquent stare. Shemaine had no need to chide him for what he had done; he knew he deserved it only too well. Frightening the boy was only a small part of it.
Colby was already making the rounds and arrived soon after they had managed to stem the bleeding. He was furious that the elder had tried to get out of bed so soon after suffering such a serious wound.
“You leave this bed one more time and rip open any more stitches, and I’ll have no recourse but to lay a red-hot iron to close up the wound! Do you understand what I’m saying? I didn’t patch you up just so you could kill yourself going to the privy.” In a vivid display of outrage, he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the necessary item. “The pot’s right there, just waiting to be used! So save me a few trips out here to mend you up and do so!”
Having bravely crept forward, Andrew now sank behind the head of the cot until his nose rested on the feather ticking. He wasn’t at all certain he liked the man scolding his grandfather. If ever he got sick or injured, he just hoped the doctor wouldn’t have to be fetched for him.
Colby Ferris didn’t limit his criticism to his lordship, but turned a glare upon Gage, who was standing at the basin washing his father’s blood off his forearms. “And what are you doing out of bed? Didn’t I tell you to stay there for a while?”
“I did. . . . for a while,” Gage retorted with a grin. “But I had work to do.”
“ ‘Tis evident the both of you are close kin!” Colby grumbled, and eyed Shemaine as a possible source of help. “Perhaps you can do something to convince these two to heed my advice.”
Shemaine smiled and began laying out clean linens for the bed and fresh swabs for the doctor to use while he restitched the wound. Remembering one of James Harper’s favorite sayings, she turned it into a question. “Have you ever seen the sun setting in the east, Dr. Ferris?”
Flicking a glance from father to son, Colby set his lips awry in perturbation. The two showed no remorse and would obviously do what they wanted. “I see what you mean.”
“Still, they might set a better example for the boy if they were more attentive to your instructions,” Shemaine added, smiling up at Gage as she handed him a towel. “I’m sure they would expect Andrew to do what you say, Doctor, just as my husband expects his men to glean guidance from his expertise.”
Colby smiled, realizing the lady was effectively getting her point across with gentle reasoning far better than he had with his ranting. Seeming suddenly abashed by the poor example they had set for the boy, Gage and William looked toward Andrew. It was William who twisted slightly to take his grandson’s hand and pull him around to the side of the bed.
“Do you understand that I brought this new trouble on myself by not listening to the doctor?” The child stared at the elder with widened eyes as he continued. “I should have had more consideration for your mother and the trouble I made bloodying the sheets and the stairs. I know what I did frightened you, and I’m sorry for that. I should have stayed here in the loft and not tried to go downstairs. Had I done so, I wouldn’t be needing more stitches now. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded, and William ruffled his dark hair, winning a grin from the youngster.
Wiping his hands on the towel, Gage gave his wife a smile as he ceded to her gentle arguments. “All right, my love, I’ll go tell my men to work the rest of the day without me. Does that please you?”
“ ‘Twill relieve my worries knowing you will rest.” Shemaine reached up and, lightly combing her fingers through his hair, gently felt the swelling that was still there beneath the neatly closed gash. “I don’t want anything to happen to you now that we’ve found each other.”
It was rumored that Gertrude Turnbull Fitch had caused such a row in Newportes Newes after the death of her father that officials of the hamlet had started making inquiries about her possible involvement in the plot to blow up Gage Thornton’s ship. To assure himself of some avenue into the Turnbull wealth, Captain Fitch forcibly hauled his wife aboard the London Pride and set sail for England before anyone actually decided to arrest her. She hissed like a viper, laying a severe tongue-lashing upon him, but Everette only smiled, for her threats carried little weight now that J. Horace Turnbull was dead. He promised himself that it would be Gertrude’s last voyage on the London Pride, for she had cost them more in lives lost than he had ever managed to pilfer from the coffers. James Harper and the crew guessed their captain’s intentions, but they didn’t dare let out sighs of relief. After the shores of England were reached and they had seen the last of the shrew, then there would be a celebration the likes of which they had heretofore only dreamed about.
At first, Shemaine and Gage were both hopeful that Potts had been aboard the vessel when it embarked upon the return voyage, but they soon learned that he had jumped ship and was still in the territory. Some said he was keeping company with Morrisa again, and if that was the case, it was not hard to surmise that with Freida closely watching over her girls and their accounting of customers, Potts was having to pay through the nose for any favors he might be receiving from Morrisa. A tar’s wages could not last long with such prurient indulgences, and it was supposed that one day soon he would have to find work or resort to drastic measures to gain the coins he would need to merely exist.
Potts’s welfare was of little consequence to Shemaine and Gage. They were far more concerned with the threats he had made in the past and feared the day was swiftly approaching when he would again be seeking his revenge. Not an hour went by that they didn’t wonder if he was in the woods again, watching for an opportunity to kill one of them.
Soon after the departure of the London Pride, Calley gave birth to a little girl, and her joy was complete. Annie stayed for another week, just long enough for the woman to get back into the routine of running her household again. In the ensuing days a small wedding was planned for Annie and Dr. Colby Ferris at a church in the hamlet. Only a few close friends would attend the ceremony, but everyone else was invited to a large feast at the tavern, which served the best food in town. For that particular afternoon at least, the owner had promised to keep Freida and her girls from plying their trade on the premises, a situation that did not necessarily please the madam.
Mary Margaret kindly offered to come out and sit with Andrew and William while Gage and Shemaine attended the ceremony and festivities. Since it promised to be a late hour before they returned, the couple had invited Mrs. McGee to spend the night with them so she wouldn’t have to make the trip back at a late hour. The woman readily accepted. But William was not at all keen about the idea. His hackles rose at the thought of having an Irish nursemaid looking after him, but being for the most part restricted to his narrow bed by firm orders from the doctor, he could find no avenue of escape.
Gage showed no sympathy toward William’s grumbling complaints. “I’ve seen old boars with better temperaments than you have,” he accused, having grown exasperated with his father’s continual harping about Mrs. McGee coming out to watch over them. “You’ve complained about the discomfort of your bed, the lowness of the ceiling, the inconvenience of peeing in a pot, and a long list of other things, not the least of which is the fact that you and Andrew will be left in the care of Mrs. McGee, a perfectly capable, kindly old woman—”
“Old woman . . . humph!” William snorted, jamming his pillow more firmly beneath his head with a balled-up fist. “Old shrew, more likely! What is she going to do, run and fetch the pot when I’ve got to go? By George, I’ll rot in hell first!” It was positively absurd to imagine himself being attended by some harpy who’d think of him as an invalid and, in her zeal to be helpful, try to lift the tail of his nightshirt as he staggered weak-kneed toward the chamber chair. He had been imprisoned in this damned loft far too long and certainly needed no decrepit ancient assisting him! “Blast it all, Gage! I don’t need any nosy-posy tending me!”
Gage struggled valiantly not to laugh. He could understand his sire growing petulant now that he couldn’t move about with his customary agility and energy, but the wound had been serious and would take time to heal, definitely much longer than his father seemed willing to consider or, for that fact, had the patience for.
“Mrs. McGee will be coming here mainly for Andrew’s benefit,” Gage stated slowly, as if to help his parent understand the necessity of the woman’s presence. “And if, in the process of looking after him, she may consent to serve you a meal or do you some small service, then I would urge you not to resist unduly. Mrs. McGee is not so old that she can’t give you a proper tongue-lashing.”
“Just how old is the biddy, anyway?” William barked. “Doddering and dowdy, I presume!”
“Actually, Mary Margaret is quite a handsome woman.” Gage’s lips began to twitch with amusement as he realized his sire seemed far more concerned about the woman’s age than with anything else. “I suppose we could have found a younger woman to sit with you, but she might not have been nearly as comely.”
William squinted suspiciously at his son as he pressed the point. “How old did you say she was?”
Gage shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t. I don’t have any idea how old she is. I never felt inclined to ask, but it can’t be too much older than you, if at all. What are you, sixty-five? She’s got to be around that age, plus or minus.”
Andrew came thumping up the stairs with an armful of books and, upon reaching the loft, immediately scurried to the cot, where he dropped his burden beside the elder.
“Mommee Sheeaim said you can read to me if’n ye want, Gran’pa, ’cause she’s gettin’ dressed and can’t take time right now.” Propping his elbows on the edge of the cot, the youngster settled his chin in his hands and peered at his grandfather cajolingly. “Will you, huh, Gran’pa?”
William could not resist his grandson’s heartwarming entreaty. Clearing his throat, he assumed a more benevolent demeanor for the child, but his cheeks took on a ruddy hue as he flicked his gaze toward Gage and gestured lamely toward his leather trunk. “You’ll find a pair of spectacles in the top receptacle. Will you fetch them for me?”
“I’ll get ’em, Gran’pa!” Andrew cried eagerly, and ran to the chest as his father lifted the lid and folded back the cover of the first compartment. Receiving the eyeglasses with an admonition to be careful, the boy returned to his grandfather and watched curiously as the elder put them on. William glanced askance at the child, who, greatly intrigued by his own reflection in the lenses, leaned close in front of the elder’s face.
“Do you see a little squirrel?” William queried fondly.
“I see Andee!”
“I think that’s a little squirrel you see,” William teased as a grin was wrenched from his lips.
“Oh, no, Gran’pa!” Andrew curled a finger inwardly and jabbed at his own chest. “That’s me! Mommee Sheeaim show me in the water when we go down by the pond! That’s Andee!”
“I see a little squirrel from this side of the eyeglasses.”
“Can I see?” Andrew could hardly restrain himself as he pressed his face alongside his grandfather’s and tried to look through the lenses from the older viewer’s direction.
William’s grin broadened as he cut his eyes askance. “See anything?”
Closing one eye, Andrew squinted more intently. “Huh-uh.”
“Then perhaps you should wear them yourself for a better view.”
Andrew willingly allowed the wires to be affixed behind his ears, but when he tried to look through the spectacles, his eyes soon crossed. Turning his head this way and that, he tried to right his vision. “Gran’pa! I can’t see nothin’!”
Gage pressed a lean knuckle across his lips to forestall his laughter. From his point of view, the strong lenses made his son look more than a little bug-eyed. He tiptoed across the room to the stairs and paused there to glance back as his father scooped up a sketch of a squirrel he had drawn earlier that day.
William held it in front of the boy and urged, “Now take the glasses off.”
Andrew obeyed, and his expression changed to one of elation as he saw the lifelike sketch. “Oh, Gran’pa! You draw squirrel good like Daddee draw ship!”
Gage descended the stairs with the same care with which he had crossed the room, for he was unwilling to disturb the two, who were completely engrossed with each other. It had warmed his heart immensely to see his father playing with Andrew, for it was a cold fact that he had never thought his sire would ever care for his grandchildren. Now he was seeing the elder in a different light, one that had been illumined by the natural inquisitiveness of a child.
Shemaine looked up as Gage came into their bedroom and immediately turned around to show him the laces that had become ensnared at the back of her bodice. “I must be getting fat! Or Victoria was as thin as a reed when she wore this gown! I had to let out the laces so I could breathe, and look what I’ve done trying to get them adjusted!”
Coming up close behind his wife, Gage slipped his arms around her and assumed a thoughtful expression as he cupped her breasts within his hands. “Aye, there’s more than a handful now.” He leaned over her shoulder and, plucking the neckline away from her bosom, peered down into the garment to admire the swelling fullness that rose tantalizingly above the lace-trimmed chemise. “Two ripe melons ready to be devoured. I can hardly wait ‘til we return tonight.”
Shemaine thrust an elbow backward, playfully jabbing him in the ribs, and tossed a smile over her shoulder as she coyly scolded, “Behave, sir!”
“With every woman but you, my love,” her husband assured her huskily, spreading kisses upward along her throat. “You’re my solitary source for carnal pleasures.”
“I’m glad.” Shemaine sighed, leaning her head back upon his shoulder as she stroked the lean hands that had returned to caress her breasts. “I could not bear to share you with another woman. I’m like Roxanne in that respect.”
“Aye, madam, but I’m your possession, not hers. You have a right to feel that way.”
A light knock on the front door interrupted, announcing the arrival of their guest. With the summons, Gage remembered that Andrew would have company in his bedroom that night and that the walls were not thick enough to keep the squeak of a bed from being heard.
“We’ll have to try out the bear rug tonight,” Gage mused aloud, slipping a hand inside his wife’s chemise to fondle a round breast. “Or Mary Margaret will wonder about our inability to leave each other alone.”
“I aired the rug outside yesterday,” Shemaine informed him, lifting smiling eyes upward to meet his warmly glowing gaze. “Knowing your insatiable appetite, I considered our options with Mrs. McGee in the next room.”
“ ‘Twas shrewd of you, my dear, to think ahead,” Gage murmured, dropping a loving kiss upon her brow. Brushing his fingers with slow deliberation over a pliant peak, he withdrew his hand and let out a halting breath as he moved back a step, but his attempt to curb his excitement was greatly impeded when his wife reached behind her for a quick, exploring stroke of her hand, sending a thunderbolt jolting through his loins. Then, with a gleaming smile of appreciation, she cast a triumphant glance toward him, wrenching a grin from him. “Aye, I can’t be around you without being affected. If not for Mary Margaret waiting outside our front door, I’d make time for us this very moment.”
“The invitation is open anytime, my love,” Shemaine breathed with a sultry smile.
“I’ll collect upon your promise later,” Gage assured her with a meaningful wink, moving toward the door.
Stepping into the parlor, Gage directed his thoughts to something far less pleasurable than his beautiful wife and had regained control of his appetites by the time he got to the door. As he opened the front portal, Mary Margaret greeted him with a smile and then turned to wave farewell to Gillian, who had brought her upriver in his father’s boat.
“I’ll see ye tomorrow,” she called to the young man.
Facing her host again, Mary Margaret looked him over from head to toe and nodded her approval of his gentlemanly attire. His frock coat, breeches, waistcoat and stockings were of deep blue silk, nicely accentuated by a crisp, white shirt, jabot and stock.
Sweeping a hand to invite her in, Gage showed a leg in a gentlemanly bow and smiled. “Welcome to our home, my lady.”
Mary Margaret complied with a grin. “Well, ye handsome rogue, I see ye’ve lost none o’ yer looks since I last saw ye. Ye’ve garbed yerself a lot fancier, I vow.”
“Something my father gave me,” Gage admitted, smoothing the costly coat. He had almost forgotten the rich, sumptuous feel of silk. “He said his girth had expanded well beyond the fit of the garments, but that’s not likely, considering he’s the same size I’ve always known him to be.”
“Then think of the garments as a gift from a dotin’ parent,” the woman recommended kindly.
A contemplative smile traced Gage’s lips. “I never thought of my father as a doting parent before, but I suppose I’ll have to change my mind, considering he took the lance that was meant for me.”
The Irish blue eyes twinkled teasingly as Mary Margaret tilted her head at a coy angle. “Have ye missed me?”
“Immensely!” Gage replied with a chuckle, and brought in her small case from the front porch as she leaned on her cane and glanced about her.
“Where’s yer pretty wife? An’ Andrew, where is he?”
Gage swept a hand casually toward the loft. “Andrew’s upstairs with his grandfather. You may go up and introduce yourself if you so desire. Shemaine isn’t ready yet and has need of my services before she can be presented.” He held up the satchel to gain the elder’s attention as he stepped toward the bedroom door. “I’ll put this in Andrew’s room in case you should have need of it. I’ve already pulled out the trundle bed, so I’ll leave the case beside the one you’ll be sleeping in tonight. The taller bed will be more suited for you.”
Mary Margaret elevated her gaze as she heard the low murmur of a deep voice drifting down from the upper story. It had a nice sound to it, she thought, but promptly faced Gage with one of her concerns. “Ye sure I won’t be disturbin’ Andrew sleepin’ in his room tonight?”
“He’ll enjoy your company,” Gage reassured her. “He’s been a bit lonesome in there since we put up the wall between our bedrooms.”
“The wee tyke will no doubt be havin’ a new brother or sister before too long,” Mary Margaret ruminated aloud, cutting her eyes back toward Gage. “That will help ease his lonely plight, ta be sure.”
Gage grinned and cocked a querying brow at her. “Now look who’s watching for Shemaine’s belly to grow,” he teased, and lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “You’ll have to give us time, Mary Margaret.”
“As if I’ve not given ye enough as it is, ye rogue!” she rebuked with a chortle. “Just how much time do ye need?”
“Give or take a month or two . . . or maybe more.”
Mary Margaret flung up a hand as if to pooh-pooh his argument. “Ye’ve been wastin’ time, else ye’d be knowin’ whether or not yer wife has been caught.” Growing suspicious, the elder eyed him closely. “But then, ye’ve always been a bit closemouthed, Gage Thornton, an’ I’m thinkin’ ye wouldn’t be tellin’ ‘til the rest of us can see it for ourselves.”
“Now, would I keep such an important secret from you?” Gage inquired in an affectionate tone.
Mary Margaret responded with an exaggerated snort. “Bet yer infernal hide, ye would!”
Curbing a smile as her host chuckled, the woman progressed several steps toward the back corridor and then, upon recalling a matter of grave importance, turned back to reclaim Gage’s attention just as he reached the bedroom door. She was reluctant to bring tales of woe into the Thornton home so soon after their altercation with Horace Turnbull and his men, but she thought her friends needed to be told. “I assume ye’ve not heard that Samuel Myers went missin’ for a pair o’ days. . . .”
Gage looked at her, perplexed. “You mean he left Newportes Newes?”
“In spirit only.”
Gage’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“They found Mr. Myers in his well this morn’n. His neck had been broken.” She sighed pensively. “He might ne’er been discovered except, on the way down, his foot got tangled in the pulley rope on the bucket.”
Gage set his jaw at a reflective angle. “I presume he didn’t break his neck just falling in.”
“Dropped, more’n likely. Alma Pettycomb said she came ’round ta see Mr. Myers the other day an’ found him squabblin’ with his neighbor, Dr. Ferris. ‘Twould seem they were arguin’ over Annie. Myers claimed ye had cheated him, an’ Colby called him a bloody blackguard an’ a liar ta his face.”
Gage’s lips twisted grimly. “So Mrs. Pettycomb is now pointing a finger at Colby as the murderer.”
Mary Margaret dipped her head in the affirmative. “She’s become quite taken with the fact that yer father is a lord and, for the time bein’, has given ye a reprieve from her criticism. Otherwise, she’d be layin’ the blame on ye, too.’’
“How kind of her,” Gage jeered caustically.
“Not really.”
He looked at the woman, sensing that something more was coming.
“Alma is now sayin’ Shemaine’s not fit ta be yer wife, what with her bein’ a convict an’ all.”
“Too bad someone didn’t drop Mrs. Pettycomb down a well!” Gage growled in vexation.
“Aye, someone might be tempted to do the deed one o’ these days, but I’d rather it not be any o’ me friends.” Mary Margaret eyed the man closely until the full weight of her statement penetrated his awareness, then Gage laughed and reassured her with a shake of his head.
“Don’t worry, Mary Margaret, I won’t ruin my life killing that old crow. She doesn’t bother me that much.”
“That’s good.” Mary Margaret smiled in relief and, lifting her cane, pointed toward the corridor. “Yer father is decent, is he not?”
“Not really,” Gage quipped, lending a whole different meaning to her question. “Right now, he could probably take on Potts and come out the better. Just be warned.”
Mary Margaret’s smile never wavered as she tossed a glance toward the stairs. “I think I can take care o’ meself.”
“I never suffered any doubts, madam.”
With a chortle the Irishwoman waved him toward the bedroom with a flourish of a slender hand and continued toward the loft. Upon nearing the last step in her ascent, she rapped the tip of her cane against the floor to announce her presence.
“ ‘Tis Mary Margaret McGee comin’ ta see the gentlemen in this upper room.”
“Miz McGee!” Andrew cried, scooting off his grandfather’s bed. The boy ran to meet her and, taking her hand, led her back toward the cot.
William hurriedly jerked off his eyeglasses, tucked them in a breast pocket of his nightshirt and pulled the sheet nigh to his chin before he glanced around with a scowl. The prospect of having a harping ol’ biddy at his beck and call had put him in a sour mood, but upon laying eyes on the small, trim, winsome woman, he immediately had second thoughts. He sought to lift himself upright from his pillow, but an excruciating pain shot from his back through to the front of his chest, and he fell upon the bed with a sharp grimace.
“Your pardon, madam,” William apologized in some embarrassment as she stepped near. “I have not the strength to rise and meet you with courteous attention. Lying in this cot without reprieve for so long has taken its toll upon me.”
“No need ta bother yerself, me lord,” Mary Margaret assured him with a sweet smile. “I’m well acquainted with yer infirmity an’ do not hold it against ye.” She swept her eyes casually along the length of him and, for once in her life, had to agree with Mrs. Pettycomb. He was an admirable specimen, even for an English lord. But then, she had always considered Gage Thornton an exceptionally handsome man, and there was definitely a striking resemblance between father and son.
“I was just reading to my grandson,” William explained, gathering up some of the books that Andrew had brought to his bedside.
“Please continue,” she urged, laying a hand upon the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sure Andrew would love it. While ye’re doin’ so, I’ll go down an’ make us some tea. If I know Shemaine, she’ll be havin’ some wee cakes or crumpets made for servin’ with tea.” With a light, affectionate pat on Andrew’s shoulder, she moved toward the stairs.
“Mrs. McGee . . . ?” William was amazed at the urgency in his tone and rebuked himself for having grown so awkward around women. Perhaps he had been too long a widower and too ambitious in his shipbuilding endeavors, for he had lost most of the social graces that women found attractive in men. In the years following his wife’s death, he had grown hard, unpolished, and irascible. No wonder he found it difficult to talk to the fairer gender.
Mary Margaret returned to the cot and looked down at him inquiringly. “Would ye be wantin’ somethin’, me lord?”
He flicked a quick, hesitant glance upward, but upon meeting eyes that were a truer blue than the sky, he dared to hold her gaze. “I was wondering how skilled you are with cards. . . .”
The blue eyes twinkled as Mary Margaret raised her small, pointed chin and challenged him. “Skilled enough ta give yer lordship a run, ta be sure.”
William grinned with the same cajoling charm his grandchild had mastered. “ ‘Tis boring up here all alone. Perhaps after Andrew has been put to bed, you’d consider a game or two. . . .”
Mary Margaret inclined her elegant white head ever so slightly, but the shine in her eyes was dazzling. “A game or two . . . or mayhap even three. . . .”
Shemaine and Gage were just coming out of their bedroom when Mary Margaret stepped from the back corridor into the kitchen. The elder paused to admire the young beauty who now wore a deep turquoise silk that had once been Victoria’s most enchanting gown. The woman clearly remembered how comely the previous owner had looked wearing it, but not nearly as much as the present one. A narrow turquoise ribbon adorned Shemaine’s slender throat, and from her earlobes hung pearl droplets, a recent gift Gage had bestowed upon his bride. Her fiery red hair had been swept atop her head beneath a white lace cap. Wispy curls had escaped around her face, lending an enchanting softness to the coiffure. A matching lace shawl draped her slender shoulders.
“Ye’re a good-lookin’ couple,” Mary Margaret declared with exuberance. “The best I’ve ever seen!”
Shemaine sank into a shallow curtsy. “You’re as kind as always, Mrs. McGee.”
The Irishwoman softly hooted. “Don’t ye be thinkin’ I’d fill yer heads with lies ’cause I’ve nothin’ better ta say, dearie. ‘Tis truthful I be, an’ don’t ye be forgettin’ it.”
With a laugh Shemaine sank into a deeper curtsy. “I won’t, Mrs. McGee, and thank you.”
Leaving her, Shemaine hurried up the stairs to see if there was anything William needed before she and Gage left. As she came in view of his lordship, he swept off his eyeglasses and looked her over in avid appreciation.
“I wonder if Maurice du Mercer realizes yet what is missing from his life,” his lordship pondered aloud as she began fluffing his pillows.
“I’m sure by now Maurice is being relentlessly bombarded with invitations from parents eager to make a good match for their daughters. In fact, he has probably chosen another young lady as his betrothed.”
“I find it hard to believe that Maurice could forget you so easily, my dear, but his ill fortune has been turned to my son’s gain.”
Shemaine did not feel inclined to talk about her former fiancé when her husband was waiting. “Do you mind so much that we’re leaving you with Mrs. McGee? She’s really a very delightful woman.”
At present, William was as reluctant to discuss his change of attitude toward the widow as Shemaine was to speak of the Marquess. “Don’t worry about me. Andrew and I will manage.”
Shemaine wasn’t satisfied with his answer, but on impulse, she leaned down and placed an indulgent kiss upon his forehead, causing his brows to fly sharply upward in surprise.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” she murmured, and patted his hand before she turned to give Andrew a kiss and a hug. At the landing, she grinned back at them. “You both be good now, or Mrs. McGee will tell on you.”
Andrew giggled at the idea that his grandfather was being admonished to behave. William winked at him and, resettling his eyeglasses upon his nose, picked up another book, drawing the youngster back to his side as he began to read.