Catherine and the Marquis by Samantha Holt

Author:Samantha Holt
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: 0
Published: 2017-10-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Catherine shoved open the door to the drawing room and had to pause to drag in a breath. She shook her head and grinned. Slumped in an armchair by the fire was Papa, his hands clasped across his stomach and his legs propped up on a stool. She did not think he had moved all night and had clearly had the easiest night of them all.

The two other men were on the sofa, their heads tilted together and touching. She wished she could summon a portrait painter and capture the moment for them to remember forever. In sleep, the slightly hard features of the marquis were soft and rather appealing. Her fingers twitched with the need to touch his relaxed mouth.

Enough of that, she told herself. “It’s a boy!” she announced so loudly that her voice rang out into the hallway.

Morgan awoke first, jolting up so that Lord Thornefield slid sideways and his head landed on Morgan’s lap. Both men blinked blearily and Lord Thornefield pushed up hastily, throwing an embarrassed look her way.

“What’s going on?” her father demanded, giving a great yawn but not bothering to move.

“It’s a boy!” She could not keep her grin to herself. After a long and far too exhausting labor for her sister, a scrawny, bald little boy had been born with a strong cry and an already determined temperament. Lord Thornefield had been right—her sisters were far too strong to let the odds defeat them.

“A boy?” Morgan stood and stared at her for a moment. “A boy? She…” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Emma is well? We have a baby? A baby boy?”

Catherine nodded.

“Oh boy, a boy. I have a boy. I would not have minded having a girl of course. But…” Never had she seen the self-confident earl look so addled.

“You had better go see her, I think.”

“Oh, yes. I better had. That is…is she ready to see me?” Morgan shook his head and grinned. “A boy,” he repeated, the words tinged with wonder.

“Go,” Catherine ordered.

Julia entered the room and was nearly mown down by Morgan as he raced up to see Emma. The night had taken a similar toll on her sister as it had Catherine. Curls hung haphazardly and there were dark circles visible under the freckles around her eyes.

“He is relieved, I take it?” Julia asked, looking back at Morgan while he bounded upstairs.

Catherine giggled. “Just a little.” She looked to her father. “Papa, will you not go and see your grandchild?”

Their father had plucked up the nearest newspaper and buried himself behind it. “I will, I will. When the baby is nice and clean, and Emma is rested. Why your generation insists on being so involved, I do not know. I did not see you until you were a good day old.”

Julia glanced at Lord Thornefield. “Lord Thornefield, it seems you were drawn into our family drama. I thought you had left.”

He shifted a little, looking awkward if not handsome with his loosened cravat and mussed hair.

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