Weymouth, England
December 1819
Trajan smiled ashe glanced up from his desk in the library at Gull Hall where he had been reading crop reports. His gaze fell upon Florence, who sat curled up like a kitten on the settee, reading a letter she had just received from Fiona. “Fiona has decided to sell her townhouse on Duchess Square.”
“Is that so?” Hermia asked, looking up from her embroidery. She was settled in a plump chair by the window working on her latest sample as the snow fell lightly outside the window.
Florence tucked her shawl more securely about her shoulders and nodded. “Yes, but she is in no hurry and wants to find someone nice to purchase it. Someone her neighbors will like.”
“Another spinster?” Andrew remarked, looking over at Florence. He was seated in one of the leather wing chairs beside the hearth, reviewing warehouse ledgers.
“Who’s a spinster?” Nathan asked, striding in.
He and Sebastian had been in the billiards room having a game before supper was announced, but now both marched in to join the others in the library. After pouring brandies for themselves, they sank into the other wing chairs beside Andrew and soaked in the warmth of the fire blazing in the hearth. It was an unusually cold and blustery day even for this time of year, and they had been up since before dawn to attend to a minor disruption at one of the Weymouth dairies.
Sebastian was just back from university, home for the yuletide holidays, and had immediately set about helping Nathan with this Weymouth dairy. He was campaigning to defer his studies for a term in order to participate more in the family businesses. Trajan saw no harm in keeping him here for the term because Sebastian wanted to learn about the Weymouth properties, and this was just as useful as his reading the Greek classics that he had declared were dreadfully dull, and he would fail the class if he were forced to take it.
“Lady Berengaria and Lady Miranda are the spinsters in question,” Florence said. “They are Fiona’s lovely neighbors on Duchess Square.”
“Berengaria,” Sebastian said, putting on the Upper Crust accent of an elite Oxford don. “She must be sixty years old and an utter dragon.”
Florence laughed. “Not at all. She is very pretty and about my age, I would say. Maybe a year or two older. Her friends call her Lady Berry. She’s sweet as can be.”
“Is she rich? Does she like younger men?” Nathan teased.
Florence laughed. “I’ll ask Fiona when I write back to her.”
Trajan set aside his reports and listened to the banter among his cousins, Hermia, and Florence, his heart full as he watched his family, one that he had almost lost because Florence had been so devastated when her father revealed the truth about her parentage.
But the four of them—him and Florence, her father and Celeste—were the only ones who knew the truth. No one else—not Hermia, nor Florence’s brother Matthew—had been told or ever would be told.
And if the secret ever got out? Trajan knew they would weather the scandal.
Florence’s father had taken Celeste and their son on a Grand Tour. He hoped their travels on the Continent might help to repair these damaged souls. New places. New beginnings.
Trajan’s gaze rested lovingly on Florence, his wife who showed incredible strength, compassion, and resilience.
She was just beginning to show now, although he did not think shewas more than three months along.
He was more in love with her than ever.
She looked over at him and smiled.
Her sunlight poured into his heart. “Are you cold, Florence?” She was fussing with her shawl.
Andrew grinned. “Why don’t you sit beside your wife and warm her?”
Nathan and Sebastian giggled like idiot schoolboys.
Florence patted the seat cushion beside her. “I am perfectly fine, but you are welcome to join me on the settee, if you wish.”
Trajan did just that, putting an arm around her as he settled back and stretched his legs before him. “How’s the planning for the holiday party going?”
“All is well in hand. The rooms for your mother, and sister and her brood, are all ready.” She turned to his cousins. “Your father will have the guest suite next to you three boys.”
“Oh, joy,” Sebastian remarked.
Their father, Trajan’s uncle, was a very good man and his sons adored him.
