A Mother For His Family. Susanne Dietze

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       Chapter Two

      They are just children.

      Helena perched on the settee in her betrothed’s drawing room awaiting his offspring, willing her hands to be still. She’d wear through her gloves if her thumbs kept up with this fidgeting.

      They are just children. And Lord Ardoch is just a man whom you shall seldom see.

      And this was to be her home, the oddly named Comraich. She was more than capable of running it, despite her youth, although the task was a trifle daunting. It was only natural, facing such prospects, for her stomach to stir as if a whirlwind eddied inside her.

      But she had not expected to be daunted by him. Lord Ardoch was no longer a distant hope for redemption, but a real man with gold hair curling over his brow, his elbow propped on the arm of his chair, his index finger resting against his lip. Intelligence sparked in his eyes, and his broad shoulders bore an air of confidence. Her husband-to-be was self-assured, noble and handsome.

      Handsome? Oh, dear. Her thumbs resumed fidgeting on her lap.

      “Your home is a far more comfortable pile of stones than I expected, considering its age,” Papa was saying. “How do you feel about living in such an ancient manse, Helena?”

      Her gaze flew to Lord Ardoch’s. His brows lifted, awaiting her response. Heat flushed her cheeks.

      “Comraich is lovely.” And it was, with its blue freestone walls and mullioned windows. “This is a pleasant chamber, too.”

      The drawing room benefited from southwestern exposure. Light spilled through the windows to brighten the cheerful green and cream decorating the walls and furnishings. A gilt pianoforte occupied the corner by the window, and Helena itched to touch the keys. Once Lord Ardoch left for London and she was alone, she’d play every day.

      One side of Lord Ardoch’s lips curved upward. “I’m gratified you think so. My late wife decorated it to her tastes, but you may do as you wish with it.”

      Alter his wife’s rooms? Her hand lifted an inch from her lap. “I would not wish to overstep.”

      Lord Ardoch’s gaze fixed on her hand. “It’s not an overstep. You’re to be the lady here. Change whatever you like.”

      What she liked was to change nothing. To be a grateful little mouse. She lowered her hand.

      “Change is your way, isn’t it?” Papa skewered Lord Ardoch with a glare. “I suppose you’ll have some new bacon-brained notion for the House of Lords come January?”

      Helena’s thumbs fidgeted anew, but Lord Ardoch grinned, appearing almost gleeful. Her husband-to-be could stand up to Papa. Few could.

      “Not new at all, Your Grace. I’m determined to introduce a plan to improve education.”

      Papa waved his hand near his nose, as if the notion reeked. “Do not think I’ll support your notions because you are my son-in-law.”

      Lord Ardoch’s smile turned impish, taking years off his countenance. Was this what his sons looked like? If so, they no doubt got away with heaps of mischief.

      “I would not have dared dreamt it so, Your Grace. But neither will I neglect my determination to see the children of Britain educated.”

      “All children?” Helena blurted. Did he mean the poor? Or just poor boys?

      Papa stiffened beside her. “He’d insist the government school every urchin.”

      At a soft shuffle at the door, her fiancé’s gaze riveted behind Helena. “Speaking of children, mine are here at last.”

      A flutter twisted in Helena’s stomach as she and Papa stood. Would they like her? She would be their mother. Not in the real way, but she would try to make a worthy substitute. She’d always wanted to be a mother, after all.

      Four children—two boys and two girls—assembled like infantrymen into a line, although the smallest girl needed the assistance of the young maid with mouse-brown hair and a beak nose.

      Lord Ardoch made introductions, and the children performed precise bows and curtsies. “’Tis an honor, Your Grace,” they each said to Papa. Mama would approve of their deferential bearing at being condescended to by a duke.

      But Helena didn’t wish them to feel condescended to by her. She turned to the eldest, a girl, and not Lord Ardoch’s child. Margaret Allaway was his deceased wife’s orphaned niece. A pretty girl, Margaret had the lean, angular look of an adolescent experiencing a rapid shoot of growth. The top of her reddish-brown head reached Helena’s nose.

      “How do you do, Margaret? I understand you are thirteen? My youngest sister, Andy—Andromeda—is your age.”

      “How do you do, Lady Helena?” Margaret did not return Helena’s smile.

      Next came the boys, twins, seven years old and—how would she ever tell them apart? They were identical, from their bright eyes to their pointy ears to the light brown hair curling over their collars. The first, Alexander, mashed his lips together as if to stifle a laugh. His brother, Callum, stared at her shoulder as if his life depended upon holding his gaze there.

      Mayhap she should address them both at once. “I hear you are busy lads.”

      “Yes, Lady Helena.” One side of Alexander’s lips twisted up more than the other. It gave him a mischievous look. Callum grinned in exact imitation of his brother. Was there nothing contrary in their appearances?

      A shaft of anxiety twisted in her abdomen.

      She turned to the littlest girl, a round-cheeked blonde with clouded eyes.

      “Louisa.” Lord Ardoch’s voice broke in before Helena could greet the child. There was a touch of something careful in his tone. “Lady Helena, Louisa is—”

      “Five years old, I expect,” Helena interjected. What had he been about to say? That Louisa was blind, in case she’d forgotten? When Lord Ardoch had written to propose, he’d told her his youngest could see nothing but light. Did he fear his daughter’s blindness would bother her? Or did it embarrass him?

      The back of his fingers stroked Louisa’s rosy cheek. “Her birthday was last week.”

      No, he wasn’t embarrassed. Just protective.

      “Papa gave me a cradle for Tabitha, and the boys aren’t allowed to touch it,” Louisa announced.

      Perhaps that was for the best, considering how Alexander and Callum stifled snickers. “Is Tabitha your doll?”

      “She is indeed,” Lord Ardoch said.

      “From Mama ’afore she went to heaven.” Louisa’s statement was matter-of-fact.

      At the front of the line, Margaret stiffened. Oh, dear. Perhaps СКАЧАТЬ