“I do not think there is any other way to regard you. After all, you are my wife’s mother.” Richard shrugged slightly. “Are you enjoying your stay at Bluebird Hall?”
“I certainly am! We all are, Your Grace. It is such a lovely house you have given us, Your Grace. A far more generous offer than we could have ever expected. Are you sure it is all right for us to stay in such a nice home?”
“If you do not stay in it, no one will. I’ve had it for so long, but I hardly stay there. In a way, you are doing me a favor by living there—at least, it will be put to good use.”
“You are too kind,” Georgiana sputtered. “I have barely thanked you for this favor, yet you are offering more. Thank you, Your Grace, for your generosity towards my family and for taking care of my daughter. She looks as though she is doing very well here. Seeing her blossoming has greatly put my mind at ease.”
The older woman stared off into the distance, and when Richard followed her gaze, he found her looking at her daughters, Nancy included. The younger ones were enthralled by whatever it was the Duchess was telling them, their expressions ones of pure awe.
Nancy looked so at ease, much more than she did in his presence, telling him that she felt the most comfortable around her family, still. Somehow, she looked even more beautiful, raising her hand to hide her laughter at whatever her sister was telling her.
“You have nothing to thank me for,” Richard replied simply. “She’s… exceptional. All that you have seen tonight has been her doing, solely hers. She works hard as a duchess… and a wife. And I am fortunate… to have married her, I suppose.”
He had been unable to forget the reassurance she had given him in his study a few nights ago. Her words had stuck with him, echoing in his mind almost constantly, dispelling the doubt that had seemingly taken root within him. Nancy had sounded so sincere as she had spoken to him, and it filled him with dismay how he had stubbornly refused to give her a chance.
He was still not sure he could afford to, sure that she deserved better than the mess that he was.
“I am sure that she believes that she is just as fortunate. I know that we certainly are—her sisters and me. We were urging her moments ago to visit us soon, and it would be an honor if you were to join her as well.”
“Oh, I do not think that is a good idea?—”
“Nonsense,” the Dowager Marchioness said firmly. “We are quite literally living in your house. You are welcome to come and go as you please.”
“That is very kind,” Richard acknowledged, his insides twisting into uncomfortable knots. “But I do not think that is necessary. Besides, that house is your home now. My presence there is not required.”
“But it would be appreciated, Your Grace. I did not get to say this at the wedding because it seemed as though you were in a hurry, but you are a part of our family now. You have married my daughter which makes you like a son to me. And sons are expected to come home as often as possible to ease the worries of their mothers.”
Georgiana hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to sound so presumptuous. I apologize if I offended you.”
Richard swallowed past the lump in his throat, inhaling shakily. “No…. you did not. It is all right. I appreciate the thought. I really do.”
It was unexpected, the pleasant burn in his chest at her kind words. They spurned an ache that he hadn’t thought of in years, concerning the absence of his own mother.
He used to wonder what she would have been like if she had lived, and a part of him now hoped she would have been as warm and as caring as the Dowager Marchioness.
Richard was startled out of his thoughts when his mother-in-law brightened up and said, “I am glad you feel that way. So… you will visit?”
He couldn’t find it in himself to say no.
“As soon as I can.”
ChapterThirteen
“Oh my!” Beatrice gasped, staring down at the tart she was delicately holding onto. “This is utterly divine.”
“We have an excellent cook,” Nancy pointed out. “He makes these special fruit tarts for dessert at least once a week.”
“Can I live with you?” Anne asked seriously, clearly more in love with the tarts than Nancy had expected she would be.
“Mama would scold you for suggesting such a ridiculous notion. Nothing must bother Nancy’s marriage. We promised,” Beatrice stated, seemingly upset by her sister’s words.
It felt unfair to Nancy that they had to rein in their urge to see her because they feared it would bother her marriage somehow.
Not for the first time, the Duchess felt as though the loss of their father had really cost them more than it seemed.
“That doesn’t mean you cannot visit,” Nancy told them with a gentle smile, disliking how sad they looked. “You can come and see me whenever you wish. Just let me know in advance so that I might inform the cook to make the tarts, especially for you.”
“Is that all right?” Beatrice questioned, visibly reluctant.
