“Cool and beautiful. Look at the moonrise.”
A big fat yellow moon was drifting up through the trees, spreading its silvery light over the asters and chrysanthemums. “I’m glad we’re out here to see this.”
“You’re warm enough?”
“I’m fine.” Alice smiled, but even by moonlight, Ethan could see she was tired. He settled an arm around her shoulders as they walked and felt her arm steal around his waist. They eventually found the bench under the oak and watched as the moon rose over the gardens. Conversation wasn’t necessary, just the peaceful moonrise and Alice’s company.
As close as they’d been in her bed the previous night, Ethan felt just as close to her now.
“Shall we return to the house?” Ethan asked. “I’ve ordered you a bath too, but trays in the library for us first.”
“Food sounds good. Worrying is hungry work, and soon enough all the vegetables will be in the cold cellar.” They made the distance in companionable silence. Ethan held the door for Alice then touched her arm.
“Let me have your shawl.” He drew it from her shoulders and folded it before handing it back to her, and the expression on Alice’s face gave him pause.
A small thing, to fold a lady’s shawl for her. Some might say presumptuous; others might say husbandly. All that mattered was what Alice would say. “What?”
“Nothing.” Alice tucked the shawl over her arm. “To the library?”
“For sustenance, though I want to go bounding up those stairs and stare Joshua back to health.”
“Come eat, Mr. Grey, or the food won’t be hot.”
He was storing up a treasure house of her various Mr. Greys: stern, affectionate, reassuring, passionate…
Ethan let her draw him into the library, where a tea cart was crowded with dishes. The ambrosial scents of roasted beef and fresh bread wafted up from steaming trays. He stared at his plate when they took places side by side on the couch. “I can’t eat all of this.”
“You can.” Alice flipped her serviette onto her lap. “You skipped lunch and tea, and you are a substantial fellow who needs his sustenance. If you fall over in a swoon, I won’t be able to catch you. Salt?”
“Please.” Ethan unfolded his napkin and began cutting his roast of beef. “Good Lord, this smells delicious. Will you marry me?”
“Of course not.” Alice smiled at her plate. “You’re out of your head with hunger, fatigue, and worry. I could use that salt when you’re done with it.”
Ethan stuffed a bite of meat into his mouth, utterly flummoxed at the question that had come from his lips. Where on earth—where in heaven or on earth—had those words come from? He’d meant them, of course, but thank God Alice had taken them as teasing.
They consumed good beef, green beans, fresh bread, pears, and cheese, limiting their discussion to the meal.
“More salt?”
“Excellent roast.”
“This cheese goes well with the fruit.”
One remark after another, each reassuring Ethan that his proposal had indeed been taken in jest. No harm done. To Alice, at least. He chewed mechanically, wondering if it was better to be rejected as only proposing in jest, or to be rejected because he’d meant each word with his whole heart.
When they finished their meal, Ethan chased Alice off to soak in a hot bath. She went without protest, perhaps sensing Ethan wanted some time with his sons. When she rejoined Ethan in the nursery, Jeremiah slept, and Joshua dozed in Ethan’s arms.
“I wanted to hate him when he was born,” Ethan said. Alice settled near him on the end of Joshua’s bed as he spoke. “He was the ultimate symbol of my failure as a husband, as a man. And yet…” Ethan gazed down at his son. “One day, he smiled at me and grabbed for my nose. Jeremiah wanted to hold him, and the nursery maids wouldn’t countenance such a thing. I held Jeremiah with one arm and the baby with the other, and I was… lost.”
“You’re not lost now. Not you, not Joshua, not Jeremiah. You’ve found each other.”
“We have. I don’t intend to lose either one of my sons.”
Alice gave a fierce little nod. “That’s the spirit.”
“But I nearly did, Alice.” Ethan started rocking slowly. “I convinced myself my children were red-faced, squalling, malodorous, ceaselessly needy little beasts. How could I have been so wrong?”
“You weren’t wrong. You’ve described the average baby, though you left out the part about how irresistibly lovable they are.”
“Irresistibly,” Ethan agreed, kissing Joshua’s forehead. “He’s still hot.”
Alice reached out and laid the back of her hand on Joshua’s forehead.
“No hotter than he was this morning. I think he’ll be fine, Ethan, though I’ve never seen this illness in another child.”
“Nor have I, and my siblings were forever coming down with this or that ailment. We lost two babies, further down the line from Nick and me.”
“A large family seldom sees all the children survive to adulthood. My mother was fortunate all four of us did.”
Ethan cuddled his son a little closer. “One marvels such a slight person should create so much noise for the sheer hell of it.”
“He does it in part to keep Jeremiah from growing up too fast.”
“That one.” Ethan’s gaze traveled to where his older son slept on his side. “He reminds me of myself now, while Joshua reminds me of myself as a child.”
“Quite a contrast. It’s hard to imagine you as devil-may-care as Joshua, but time changes us.”
“Some of us. You’re exhausted, Alice. Why don’t you lie down across the hall, and I’ll rouse you if Joshua should worsen?”
Alice rose tiredly. “I’m going to set a good example for you. I’m going to get some rest because I most assuredly do need it.” She leaned down to brush a finger down Joshua’s cheek then bent to kiss the top of Ethan’s head. “Wake me when you need a break, Ethan, and no heroics. Jeremiah will explode with worry if you fall ill.”
Ethan let her go, though just the one little whiff of her lemony scent brought peace to his soul. Alice turned to leave, pausing to pull the covers up over Jeremiah and tuck them in around him more snugly.
I love her. For those little maternal gestures and how naturally they come to her with these children, I love her.
Alice opened the door then stepped back abruptly. “Nicholas?”
One didn’t mistake Nick Haddonfield’s presence, and there he was in the corridor, looking large, windblown, and worried. Alice stepped back to let him into the nursery.
“Ethan sent a pigeon, and the roads were dry, and I don’t suppose…” Nick peered past Alice to where Ethan cradled Joshua in the rocking chair. “Is Joshua all right?”
“Nicholas.” Ethan rose, Joshua sleeping in his arms, and surveyed his brother. “You traveled all this way because my son is ill?”
“He’s going to recover, isn’t he?” Nick’s gaze traveled from his brother to his nephew. “He looks fevered.”
Alice tried to fathom the currents swirling between the two brothers, because Nick wasn’t just worried about the boy.
“Joshua started a fever last night. I can’t believe you came.”
“I’ll leave in the morning,” Nick said. “I know I’m not invited, but I was worried, and I also know what a sick child can mean to a parent’s peace of mind…”
Ethan shifted his son and extended a hand to his brother. “I am glad you’re here. I am really, honestly glad you’re here.” The words sounded heartfelt. As Alice watched, Nick’s features smoothed.
He’d been uncertain of his reception. The Earl of Bellefonte had been prepared to be politely rebuffed by his own brother—or perhaps, not so politely.