Whitby smiled across the carriage compartment at Mariah as the team stopped in front of the townhouse. “I’d invite you inside for tea, but…” He patted the breast pocket of his jacket and the folded paper safely tucked inside. “Another time?”
“Certainly.” Her red lips curled into a cat-like smile, showing that she understood why he didn’t want a guest today. “Congratulations on the new lease.”
He grinned and gave the paper one last affectionate pat. “Golly, it’s grand, isn’t it? The perfect property for the girls’ house, and right across the square from the boys’.” He nodded out the window and across the patch of fenced-in ground at the gap in the terrace row where the new house would be built. “Perfect for Daisy, too. Just imagine it—she can manage the whole building project right from our drawing room’s bay window!”
“I hope she enjoys her surprise.”
“Oh, she will. I know it.” After all, it was her chance to finally build her dream house, exactly as she’d planned it. Right down to the flower-shaped knockers on the front door. He couldn’t give her the recognition she’d deserved from Nash’s contest, but he could give her the chance to make her dream come true.
What better day to surprise her, too, than today. Today had been their official move-in day, when the last of Daisy’s possessions were delivered. It was also their last day alone before the older boys from the school arrived, with their trunks in tow and their hopes high that they would only be here for a short while until they found positions. He and Daisy had dubbed today their Empty House holiday, when the servants all had the day off before they launched into service and when he and Daisy could have the house all to themselves for one last day. He grinned. And night.
He’d already moved into the house months ago, before the last bit of plasterwork and wallpaper was even dry—before most of the furniture had arrived—because he couldn’t wait to make it his home. Their home. He’d wasted no time either in procuring a special marriage license directly on the heels of the last chair and candlestick being placed into the dining room.
“You know, Whitby,” Mariah said gently, “now that Daisy’s married, she might not want to oversee large building projects anymore.”
He snorted at the idea. “She loves building and decorating. How else would she rather spend her time?”
Mariah blinked at him, that same dumbfounded expression she often gave her husband whenever he said something that made him sound…well, daft. Before Whitby could defend himself, she explained, “Just don’t be surprised if she decides to hand the project off to someone else to build, that’s all. Wives often find their new lives to be fuller than their unmarried days.”
And pigs flew! Put down her drafting pencils and hand plans over to someone else? Not his Daisy! Besides, he couldn’t imagine what could command so much of her time that she’d ever be willing to do that. After all, Daisy Whitby was far from a typical society lady.
Heavens, even their wedding had been unconventional, although the parish priest hadn’t minded at all the changes they’d wanted to make to the traditional ceremony. The vows were all the same, the ceremony straight out of the Book of Common Prayer— It was the people who were different. Just as he’d promised six months before, Mariah had been Whitby’s best woman—er, his best matron, since Daisy would always be the best woman in his life. Her husband Robert had served as Man of Honor, and as flower girl, little Martha nearly bounced down the aisle as she flung rose petals in all directions. The church was filled with Carlisles and their families, all of Whitby’s brothers and theirs, and all the boys and girls from the school filled the front pews.
When the priest asked who gave this woman to be wedded, Elias proudly stood and said that he and her brothers did.
Then the priest changed the ceremony. With a smile, he cheekily asked, “And who gives this man?”
All four pews of children jumped to their feet and shouted, “We do! We do!”
Even King George had joined in the fun. Since they’d interrupted his speech at the architectural contest with their proposal, His Majesty had sent a representative from the palace to attend the wedding, along with a gift—an elaborate silver punch bowl decorated with frolicking naked cupids which, like the king, had no practical importance whatsoever for a typical English household. But Whitby enjoyed the irony. After all, they were together because of the king and his Regent Park project.
The rest of the ceremony and the wedding breakfast that followed at the school had been joyous, filled to overflowing with friends and family and love. Simply perfect.
He looked out the window at the row of white stone façades that would have faded into the gray winter day’s tracing of snow if not for their wrought iron details, and he warmed at the sight of his house. They would have so many more wonderful and love-filled days to come. “It’s a magnificent home, isn’t it?”
“Very. You’re a lucky man, Whitby.”
“I know.” His chest swelled with pride and happiness. This was his home, now and forever. With Daisy. “But don’t ever let me forget that, will you?”
They’d been in the house together for only one day, but already it felt as if he’d never lived anywhere else, and in his heart, he knew he’d never have to. After their wedding, they’d left immediately for the continent for their wedding trip—a visit to France so that Daisy could see all the grand chateaux and Gothic cathedrals that the French revolutionaries hadn’t destroyed, then down to Italy to see Venice’s eastern-inspired palazzos, to Florence to climb the dome of the Duomo, and finally to Rome where they’d wandered through Roman ruins and marveled at St. Peter’s Basilica and the Sistine Chapel. There hadn’t been time to venture further afield to visit Athens, Constantinople, Spain—theirs had been a truncated tour, not wanting to be away from her family and the school for longer than three months, to be back in London by January. A new year to begin, a new life…
Together.
The dust on their travel trunks had yet to be wiped away when the boxes and crates containing all of her belongings arrived from her father’s house. Her things still sat in their private rooms, still waiting to be unpacked and put into place. But they hadn’t wanted to delay the children’s arrival any longer than necessary. They would all come in the morning—not quite the two dozen or so he’d promised when he’d first hired her to build the house, but enough to fill the place with life and laughter and hope for the future.
“You’ll come tomorrow, then?” Whitby asked as he finally opened the carriage door and stepped down onto the footpath, the fresh snow crunching beneath his boots. “When the children arrive? To help them settle into their new rooms? They’d love it. So will Daisy. We’ll have a grand tea then.”
She smiled. “I’ll bring Robert and his mother. The duchess keeps asking about you two.”
“Tell her we’re happy. That I never thought it was possible to be this happy.” The bright smile on his face matched the one in his heart as he confided, “The light has come back into the world.”
Mariah’s green eyes glistened with tears, and he closed the door before he could see her cry.
He bounded up the front steps of the tiny portico, withdrew the key to his house, and let himself inside.
“Daisy!” he called out, his voice echoing up the stairs to the floors above. “I’ve got a grand surprise for you!”
She would be upstairs—of course, she would be upstairs, happily working away in her new studio. When she’d originally designed the house, she’d planned for a bachelor and two dozen boys. Now, it had to be renovated to accommodate not only a wife but one who was also an architect. With no need for the second bedroom connecting to the master suite—unlike other society couples, they gladly shared a bedroom and bed—they’d turned the room into her own drafting studio, complete with a lock on the door that she could throw if he pestered her too badly when work had to be done.
He grinned. As he planned on doing right now.
His long legs bounded up the steps three at a time. Then he came to a skidding halt in the doorway to her studio, where he leaned casually against the doorframe and gazed in at her. He delighted in this stolen moment.
She stood at her new drafting table that had been positioned by the window to give her the best light and busily worked on a large sheet of paper spread out across the slightly rising surface. Around her, boxes and trunks still waited to be unpacked and their contents put away, but her attention was on each careful pencil stroke. She hummed softly to herself, and a happy smile curled at her lips. Dear heavens, she was lovely. Simply enchanting.
Mariah was right. He was the luckiest man he knew.
“Working already?” he called out, teasing her with a light scolding. “We just returned home from our trip. You should take the day off to rest.”
“It’s a special project,” she explained, then went back to humming to herself.
He bit down a chuckle. To Daisy, every client request was special. Since the reception for Baron Hansen’s renovations and the fame the contest had given her, she’d been flooded with requests for work, both as an architect and as designer. Requests for decorations still outnumbered those for renovations and house plans, mostly thanks to her design catalogue, but at least she was now doing her own work under her own name. Proudly so. Her career was moving in the right direction.
So was her father’s. When they’d married, they’d hired a nurse to live with Elias who assisted Mrs. Jones in caring for him around the clock. Mrs. O’Leary was a wonderful woman who took no stuff and nonsense from him, and under her care, he was growing stronger every day. Enough that he’d even started working on house plans again, although Whitby and Daisy had had to turn the ground floor parlor into a studio for him until he was strong enough to regularly climb the stairs up to his old workroom in the attic. At the rate he was healing, that time wouldn’t be far off.
“Whatever those plans are, they’ll have to wait.” He folded his arms over his chest, his hand near the lease in his breast pocket, and grinned brightly. “I’ve got a new project for you that you’re going to love.”
“These can’t wait.” She didn’t look up from her paper, but her smile intensified as she fought to keep it from blossoming across her face at his arrival. “I have a very strict deadline of six months.”
“Nonsense,” he countered and came forward into the room. “I might not know much about architecture.” He stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “Well…nothing about it, actually.” When he placed a kiss to her nape, she giggled softly. “But no building deadline is so strict that it can’t be delayed.”
“This one is. Here’s what I’m working on. What do you think?” She held up the sheet of paper, and her smile finally bloomed, as beautiful as a rose. “Our new nursery.”
He looked at the plans over her shoulder and mumbled, “Why would we need a nursery?”
Slowly, she looked at him over her shoulder. That same dumbfounded look that Mariah had given him in the carriage, that same patronizing one she gave her husband whenever he…
Good Lord! The realization of what Daisy meant hit him, and Whitby sank onto a nearby chair as his knees went weak beneath him. His mouth fell open, and he gaped at her, speechless.
She knelt beside him. Concern instantly replaced her bright smile.
“Hugh, are you all right?” She rested one hand soothingly against his cheek. “Darling?” A worried frown knitted her brows. She removed his bright green beaver hat and tossed it to the floor, then set about loosening his orange cravat. “My love, say something.”
His stunned eyes landed on her, and he whispered, “I’m going to be a mother.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief and happiness. “Yes.” With a loving smile, she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Yes, you are.”