Page 89 of My Deceitful Duchess
“I remember,” Jenny said dryly. “I was there.” But so hadhebeen, though it had scandalized the midwife to the depths of her soul.Some things, she had declared,had never been meant for men to see.
How lucky she had been that Sebastian had not felt the same, given how she had relied upon the steady grip of his hand when the contractions had grown so fierce that she had screamed like a demon straight from the bowels of hell.
“But sheisbeautiful. Even if her face is a bit squished. Just look at her—she’s going to have your eyes. And my hair, more’s the pity.”
It was true that their daughter had come into the world with a wealth of hair thatalreadyseemed in want of a trim at least. “I like your hair,” she said. “And sheisbeautiful. Oh, look—I think she’s got your nose.”
“And your chin. Stubborn. Determined.”
“She can’t be determined just yet; she’s only a baby!”
“But she’sgoingto be. You can see it in her face already.”
But as they bickered over which bits belonged to whom, and what the consequences of those bits might be, she knew—theybothknew—that little Josephine was the very best bits of each of them.
∞∞∞
Three months thereafter
There was something about becoming a mother that changed a woman in indefinable ways. Ways that had nothing at all to do with parenthood in particular, but ways in which one viewed the wholeworldthat changed.
Jenny had been ruminating upon it for some time—about how, in her life, she had been so much the victim of circumstances beyond her control. How so many of those circumstances had been put into place by men seeking to controlher. And how, absent any other option, she had let them, time and time again.
She had done her best over the years, not just for herself, but for womenlikeher. Women who had also become victims of circumstance, victims of a world that had never cared much for what happened to women at all. But she could domore.
Josie wouldneverbe put into such a position. Not if Jenny had anything at all to say of it. But it wasn’t only Josie who deserved protection—it waseverywoman.
And so she told Sebastian one morning as they walked back from the bakery, “I am going to use Venbrough’s money.”
“I thought you might,” he said. “It’s substantial. What will you use it for?”
“To give women a fresh start,” she said. “Any woman who wants one. I would like to—to create a philanthropic association. For women in need.Anywoman, no matter her station.” A duchess could be in need every bit as much as a washerwoman. And didn’t she know it.
“A worthy cause,” he said.
“I want the world to besafefor Josie,” she said. “I want to give her a kinder world, a softer world. But she’s not the only one who needs that. She’s not the only child who deserves it.”
His fingers found hers, linking their hands as they walked. “I can think of no better way to use the funds of a man such as him,” he said. “To turn evil into hope.”
Yes, she thought.Hope.
And she looked down at the ring on her finger and thought—maybe there was something to superstition after all.
∞∞∞
Sixteen months thereafter
“Sebastian, you arenottaking Josephine to the scene of a murder!”
Though Jenny had been about to make a similar pronouncement, she let her hands fall to her sides and turned instead to gape at her father-in-law—who held his granddaughter securely within his arms, one hand pressing her tiny head to his chest, as if to shield her from the very idea.
Mr. Beckett, who had come calling hat in hand once again for Sebastian’s help, stood somewhere off to the side, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. It was not the first time he’d been subjected to a family squabble, and it would certainly not be the last. She could almost feel sympathy for him.Almost.
Josie, not quite two years old yet, and blessed—or cursed—with her father’s same untidy gold hair—blinked her cornflower blue eyes and stretched out her arms. “Papa!” she cried, her lower lip trembling.
Despite his father’s protestations, Sebastian snatched Josie into his arms and positioned her upon his hip. “Jenny’s got to be over to Ambrosia,” he said. “And besides, Josielovesit. Don’t you, my love?” he cooed, bouncing her until she giggled.
Winston’s mouth dropped open. “Mary!” he shouted, calling for his wife’s assistance. “Yourson!”
