Page 77 of Pride & Petticoats

Charlotte loved the contrasting rugged and bucolic landscape of Hampshire, and she thought Grayson Park matched the countryside in its charm. The massive gray building was more than a hundred years old, having been built in the time of William and Mary. Charlotte had been stunned at her first view of Freddie’s country home, Wyndham Oaks—the red brick and white columns were stately and, in Charlotte’s mind, gave the house the appearance more of a castle than of a home—but Alex’s estate was nothing short of imposing. It was still difficult for her to believe that people actually lived in such breathtaking structures.

Lucia and Charlotte paused at the steps leading to the north front. While Lucia caught her breath and stifled her last giggles, Charlotte turned and took in the waterfall gurgling behind her and the carefully cultivated flowers and shrubs as well as the wild section of the garden to the right. The two women had meandered about the garden for almost an hour and were now in sight of the house’s conservatory, a room Alex and Lucia were presently remodeling.

Lucia straightened and took a deep breath. “I would have killed him, Charlotte. But as you have allowed the wicked man to survive, you most certainly will have to exact some retribution.”

Charlotte nodded as she and Lucia resumed their walk up the garden steps, down the little gravel path, and into the dusty conservatory.

“We’re traveling to Charleston in the spring. With his bouts of seasickness, I think that trip will be punishment enough. And if Freddie ever dares to even so much as think of placing another bet . . .”

Discarding their bonnets, the women strolled through the conservatory doors and into a cool antechamber of the large house. From the adjoining drawing room, they heard laughter.

Exchanging a look, they opened the door and stepped into the light blue, brightly lit room. There, on the floor between two couches, were Alex and Freddie. Alex was making faces and waving his hands about his head, while Freddie babbled nonsensically.

Lucia glanced at Charlotte. “Our husbands have turned into fools.”

Alex and Freddie froze and turned in unison to face their wives. They shared the same sheepish look.

“Oh, don’t stop your playing on our account.” Charlotte rounded the chair-back settee in front of her and knelt down next to Freddie, taking her newborn daughter, Alvanley Adele Dewhurst, into her arms. As she had told Lucia, she had been furious when she learned a wager over a horse race had decided her child’s name. And Charlotte supposed she would rather suffer torture than admit to her husband that she was getting used to the name Alvanley, even liking it. Of course, the child’s middle name came from her Addy, and Charlotte could not wait for Addy to meet her namesake in the spring.

Lucia swept Allegra Madeleine Scarston into her arms, and the little girl giggled with pleasure. Alex and Freddie settled back on the couch opposite their wives and contentedly took in the domestic scene.

“I say, old boy, this fatherhood thing isn’t half bad,” Freddie crowed. Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“Charlotte did do all the work,” Lucia said, sitting down in a light blue armchair and bouncing Allegra on her lap.

“Now wait just a moment, madam. I was with my wife the entire labor, and I’ve helped with everything,” Freddie protested.

“Except with her name,” Alex said.

Freddie glared at him. “Now see here,” Freddie objected. “I explained all of that. What else was I to do? A gentleman—”

“—honors his bets,” the three of them chorused in unison.

“Yes, we know,” Charlotte said. “You’ve told us a hundred times.”

Freddie continued his defense as a footman in blue livery delivered a letter to Alex. Alex glanced at it, rose, and handed it to Charlotte.

“It’s from Addy,” she said in surprise. “I know she said she was going to school, but I can’t believe she’s learned to write so quickly.”

Freddie took the baby, and Charlotte read the note over twice. As she read it, her face blanched.

Freddie was immediately beside her. “Bad news, darling?”

Charlotte looked up into the worried faces of Alex, Lucia, and her beloved husband. From Freddie’s arms, her daughter reached out a tiny hand a grasped a red curl of her hair. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“What now?” Alex inquired. “Has Alvanley bestowed his name on another of our illustrious peerage?”

“Selbourne,” Freddie growled.

“Addy is getting married! She’s fallen in love with her schoolmaster—a free black man in Boston, where she’s living now. She wants to know when we’ll be in America and if we’ll attend the wedding.”

“Absolutely not. Addy couldn’t be bothered to attend our wedding.”

Charlotte scowled at him. “That’s because we married in Scotland, and she was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, on her way home, at the time.”

“Excuses, all of it.”

“This from the man who has a hundred excuses why he can’t travel to America in a few months.” She looked at Lucia. “Two days ago he said he’d forgotten that he’d invited Lydia and Westman to Wyndham Oaks. Of course, Lydia had no recollection of the invitation. Then yesterday he told me he thought he was allergic to Yankees.”

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