Nine Days to go.
There was something about the smell of a newborn baby that had always delighted Naomi. The fresh alluring scent that made her want to inhale deep and drink in all that innocence. Babies held an endless fascination. The promise that one day she too might be a mother.
Her close friend, Lady Bridget Moore had recently given birth to a little girl, Elizabeth Rose. Naomi spent as much time as she could at the Moore family home in Berkeley Square. It was her place of refuge.
She and Bridget were seated in the upstairs drawing room which overlooked the gardens of the square, the morning after Gus and Evangeline’s wedding ball. Bridget had left the gathering early, but the dark circles under her eyes spoke of a new mother who hadn’t got much sleep.
While Naomi held the baby in her arms, Bridget rested her head against the sofa, and closed her eyes.
“How is the whole Monsale looking for a wife saga going? I didn’t get a chance to speak to you last night before I left, but Stephen says Monsale was very grumpy later in the evening,” said Bridget.
Naomi glanced down and addressed the baby. “The Duke of Monsale is a silly man who can’t see past the end of his long handsome nose. I am sorry Elizabeth Rose, but you will no doubt soon discover that the male of the species can be a right royal pain in the ass.”
The chubby faced infant blew a spit bubble in response.
Exactly my sentiments too.
“Monsale fooled me into thinking he was about to ask me to dance. When I wouldn’t play his game and left the room, he followed me. He dragged me into one of the downstairs sitting rooms and then had the effrontery to accuse me of being stubborn. Me? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. He demanded I put my name on the list, then marched off in a huff when I said no.”
She didn’t want to reveal to anyone what else had transpired between her and Monsale. Of the fact that she was certain he had almost broken and kissed her. Nor did she want to talk about the cold, hard words they had exchanged. The wounds of disappointment were still too raw.
“So, how many ladies are left?” replied Bridget.
“One. Lady Euphemia Marshall. I don’t know a great deal about her; she doesn’t spend much time in London.”
Bridget scowled. “The unknown elements are always the greatest of threats. Believe me when I say I speak from bitter experience.”
Bridget’s late first husband had blamed her for the lack of children in their marriage and dubbed her the Baron Baroness. It was only after she and Sir Stephen Moore had conducted a private affair that Bridget discovered the problem had not lain with her.
“I don’t understand why you refused to let Kitty put your name on the list in the first place? Stephen tells me it has infuriated Monsale no end. I expect he thought you would, and he could then just choose you.”
Hot tears of frustration suddenly pricked at Naomi’s eyes. No one else seemed to understand her point of view. As far as she was concerned, there shouldn’t be a list. It was beyond her comprehension as to why Monsale had even considered one.
“He might well be annoyed by my refusal, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed, or if he has, care that he has hurt me. And I don’t just mean my pride. You of all people should know how demeaning this is for me. Monsale can’t possibly be blind to the affection I feel for him.”
“I see. You mean there shouldn’t be a list? Monsale should have chosen you right from the outset, and his failure to do so is what has hurt you so much. Do I have the right of it?” replied Bridget.
“Yes. You know I have never wanted to take on a husband just because it was expected of me. I’ve seen the love that my friends and siblings have found in marriage. The way you and Stephen are together, takes my breath away. That’s what I want. And if I cannot have it with Monsale, then I shall go without.”
Bridget rose from her seat and came to sit beside her. Baby Elizabeth began to fuss at the sight of her mother. Naomi wisely handed the infant over.
“I know how much it tore at my heart when I told Stephen I was pregnant; and he offered to marry me, but not live under the same roof. Men are strange creatures. He thought that was acceptable but was most put out when I declined to take his surname.”
Her friend’s stubborn refusal to accept anything less than Sir Stephen’s full and heartfelt devotion had seen the rogue finally come to his senses and declare his love to Bridget. From what Naomi had seen, they were deliriously happy with one another.
I want the same from Monsale. He can have my everything if I can have his heart.
“Why can’t Monsale see what happened between you and Sir Stephen and understand that is the path to happiness? We could have the same.”
Bridget sighed. “I know. But don’t forget I was pregnant Naomi; Stephen didn’t have the sort of choice that Monsale has with you. He was never going to walk away from me or our family. The ties that bound us together were too strong.”
Bridget was right. Not only had she been carrying his child, but she had taken custody of Stephen’s orphaned half-brother Toby. She had been holding all the cards.
After last night’s confrontation, Naomi wasn’t sure that there was much else she could do about Monsale. There was one name left on the bridal list, and she would have to hope that fate was about to finally deal her a winning hand.
She just had to find a compelling reason for him not to marry Lady Euphemia. And then be granted the miracle of him finally coming to his senses.
I’m not certain if I can pray that hard.