The Duke's Courtship by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2012-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

Epilogue

The door to Esther’s bedroom cracked open as the baby stirred in her arms.

“Quiet now, you lot,” came a whispered admonition. “If the baby’s sleeping, we mustn’t disturb her, or your mama will be wroth with us.”

Percival Windham, His Grace the Duke of Moreland, had rounded up his lieutenants to make a raid on Esther’s peace.

“Mama’s always wroth with us,” Gayle observed.

“She’s not wroth with me,” Bart countered.

Percival pushed the door open another few inches and peeked around it. “Hush. The next man who speaks will be court-martialed for conduct unbecoming.”

“No pudding,” little Victor piped. “No pudding.”

Victor was very particular about his pudding, much like his father and his late grandfather.

“Come in,” Esther said, pushing up against her pillows and cuddling her newest daughter close. “I’ve been telling Louisa to expect some callers.”

Percival held Louisa’s older sister Sophie in his arms, and Devlin walked at his side, while Bart charged ahead, Victor clutched a fold of his father’s coat, and Gayle kept Valentine by the hand. Maggie, as always, hung back, though she was smiling, as was her father.

Another healthy girl child safely delivered was an excellent reason to smile.

“Can I see the baby?” Victor asked.

As small as he was, he could not see his mother in her great bed, much less the new baby. Percival tucked Sophie in against Esther’s side and hoisted the children onto the bed one by one. They arranged themselves across the foot of the bed, never quite holding still, but demonstrating as much decorum as they were capable of.

“There, you shall all have a look,” Percival said when he’d positioned his troops. “But no shouting or bouncing around lest you rouse your baby sister Louisa.”

“She’ll mess her nappies,” Gayle observed. “You named her for Uncle Peter, because his real name was Peter Louis Hannibal Windham.”

“We did,” Esther said, though she shared a smile with Percival over the scatological preoccupations of the young male mind.

Not to be outdone, Bart gave his next-youngest brother a push. “You named Sophie for Grandpapa, and that’s why she’s Sophie George Windham.”

“Sophie Georgina,” Gayle said, shoving back.

Percival scooped up wee Sophie and settled with her, his back to the bedpost. “The next fellow who shoves, pushes, or interrupts his brother will be sent back to the nursery.”

“No pudding,” Victor said again, grinning at his older brothers.

Percival tousled Victor’s dark hair. “Heed the young philosopher, boys, and follow Maggie’s example of juvenile dignity.” He winked at Maggie, which always made the girl turn up bashful. “Esther, how do you fare?”

This had become a family ritual, this bringing the older siblings to see the new arrival, and what a darling new arrival she was. Louisa had Victor’s swooping brows, which on a newborn made for a startlingly dramatic little countenance.

“I am well, Percival. Childbearing is not easy, but it does improve with practice. Would you like to hold your daughter?”

They exchanged babies with the ease and precision of a parental drill team, and Esther beheld the Duke of Moreland give his heart, yet again, to a lady too small to understand the magnitude of such a gift.

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