She hadn’t worried about traveling. She was as strong as a horse. But she suspected Nicholas would prove a doting and protective parent. Once he knew she was pregnant, her itinerary wouldn’t include excursions across the Irish Sea.
Watching him prowl about the room, she wondered what he’d say when she told him about the baby. She hoped he’d be pleased, but he described his own childhood so coldly, she couldn’t be sure. Even if he was happy about the news, he’d be furious she’d embarked on this arduous journey while carrying his child.
It had been an interesting six months. Lusty certainly. She’d expected that. Her husband’s voracious appetite was familiar. Before his wound was completely healed, he’d debauched her all over his house. At first she’d fretted that sexual activity might slow his recovery, but he’d regained his health with astonishing speed.
Their six months together had delivered myriad surprises too. Passionate clashes as two strong characters established how to live together—it only occurred to her after they married what little time they’d actually spent in each other’s company without making love. Clashes followed by even more passionate reconciliations.
A tiny smile touched the corners of her mouth as she recalled those incendiary unions. Then she chided herself for carnal thoughts in this sacred place.
When Lord Aveson’s sister appeared seemingly out of thin air and married the Marquess of Ranelaw so precipitately, there had been talk, much of it vicious. Luckily nobody connected Lady Antonia Hilliard, newly returned from a long sojourn in Italy, and the dragon Miss Smith, doyenne of chaperones.
Safe in Nicholas’s arms in his rambling manor house, she hadn’t cared what poison the ton spread. She was happier than any woman had a right to be. If the gossips guessed her joy, they’d be jealous as well as curious and spiteful.
Henry had quickly reconciled himself to the marriage. He expected people to tolerate his scholarly eccentricities and in return he rarely passed negative judgment on others. Late in the summer Antonia and Nicholas had spent a month at Blaydon Park and she’d been touched to note the growing friendship between her husband and her brother.
Returning to Northumberland had been a bittersweet experience. Marriage and ten years away meant that the old house no longer felt like home. She’d enjoyed revisiting childhood haunts but felt no yen to live there again.
Blaydon Park belonged to yesterday. Tomorrow was all Nicholas. And the baby who arrived late spring or early summer. With hopefully more children to come. The big house on the cliffs called out to her to fill it with laughter. She’d garnered enough to know Keddon Hall badly needed an infusion of happiness.
The door opened and a tall woman entered with a purposeful step. Antonia was so busy watching Nicholas’s face, she barely paid attention to Eloise. Ready to leap to his defense, she rose. Although why she imagined he needed defending, she wasn’t sure.
Fleeting regret shadowed his eyes, then he smiled at Eloise with a surpassing tenderness that made Antonia’s heart somersault. Yet again, she recognized what a remarkable man fate had placed in her path when the Marquess of Ranelaw decided to ruin Cassandra Demarest.
She’d wondered if he’d be stiff or distant with his sister, but he surged forward to take Eloise’s hands with an open affection Antonia couldn’t mistake. “Eloise, I don’t know why I waited so long.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“Neither do I.” The woman’s voice was low and musical. With instinctive grace, she untangled her hands from Nicholas’s and turned to Antonia.
Without introduction, she’d still guess the nun’s identity. Eloise shared Nicholas’s black eyes and striking, elegant features. A wimple covered her hair, but even in her shapeless garments, it was clear the young Eloise Challoner would have been beautiful enough to set the world alight. In her late thirties, she was still breathtakingly lovely.
She smiled with the charm Nicholas shared. “You must be the new Lady Ranelaw.”
Antonia dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, Sister Eloise. Although please call me Antonia.”
“So pretty. And my name is Sister Mary Therese. Nicholas is the only person who calls me Eloise these many years.”
Inevitably Eloise’s attention reverted to her brother. “Thank you for bringing your wife to see me.” She gestured to the hard chairs against the wall. Nicholas’s lordly manner must be a family characteristic. “Tell me everything. Your letters left much to be desired, brother mine.”
Antonia’s dangerous, rakish beloved looked sheepish. She hid a smile as she sat. Nicholas hesitated, then took his place beside her.
At first conversation dwelled upon childhood memories, brothers and sisters and their families, changes to the estate, how his life altered with marriage. Antonia learned more about the widespread Challoner clan in this one afternoon than she’d managed to ferret out of Nicholas in six months. She hid another smile at his expurgated version of events leading to his wedding.
A novice delivered a tea tray and afternoon wended toward evening. Inevitably the atmosphere became more somber. Nicholas caught his sister’s hands in an urgent grip. “Let me take you away, Eloise. Antonia is happy for you to live with us. Or we’ll set you up in your own establishment if that’s what you prefer.”
Eloise frowned, not seeming to understand. “For a visit, do you mean?”
“No, permanently, of course.”
She looked puzzled. “Why on earth would I leave?”
“I know you’re unhappy.”
She tried and failed to pull free. Antonia had noticed her discomfort with physical contact, perhaps part of her training as a religious. For the first time, the façade of calm cracked and bewilderment edged Eloise’s tone. “For eleven years I’ve told you how content I am.”
“I know you sought to reconcile me to your incarceration.”
To Antonia’s surprise, Eloise released a hearty laugh. “Nicholas, you’re still a romantic. You were such a brave, intense boy, determined to protect the people you loved. I always admired that and hoped you didn’t grow out of it.”
Antonia glanced at her husband, wondering how he took this assessment. It seemed his sister saw him much as she did. How could Antonia condemn his chivalrous streak? She knew he’d die for her. Good God, he almost had.