The Widow Wager (17 page)

Serafina seemed unaware of her thoughts. She sighed. “I see our love grow even more now that our son has arrived.”

“Will we meet him tonight?” Gemma asked, happy for the change of subject.

Serafina nodded. “In a short while, it will be time for him to be fed. I’ve insisted on doing it myself—I don’t want a wet nurse. So they’ll bring him to me and everyone can coo and aww over him.”

“Are you two plotting?” Rafe asked as he broke away from the rest of his family and moved toward where they sat on the settee. He placed a hand on Serafina’s shoulder and she looked up at him with what could only be described as adoring eyes.

Gemma glanced away from it, feeling as though she was interrupting something far too intimate to be viewed by a relative stranger.

“You know me, my love. Aren’t I always plotting?” Serafina teased.

His laughter was light and his smile bright as he turned it on Gemma. “Stick with my wife, Gemma—she will always lead you into some kind of mischief.”

Annabelle and Marcus came to sit on the settee opposite them and Annabelle laughed. “That is true, isn’t it, love?”

There was a moment where a world of unspoken but highly passionate conversation went between the Riverses, and once again Gemma found herself blushing as she glanced at her lap. Every marriage in this family was a love match. She and Crispin were the only odd ones to the group.

“Actually, this is a very good transition,” Crispin said as he led his mother to a chair and helped her into it. He smiled down at her, then looked at the group as a whole. “You see, we
do
actually need your help.”

Rafe straightened up and suddenly he was all seriousness. “You know I’ve always been there to offer it.”

To her surprise, Crispin flinched slightly before he continued, “We visited today with Gemma’s father and her sister, Mary. You all know that her father is the one who created this marriage with his machinations, but he also did the same with Gemma’s first marriage.”

Serafina jerked her gaze to Gemma and their eyes met. All the kindness that was in her stare was almost too much, but Serafina didn’t allow her to look away. She took her hand once more and squeezed it.

“I know exactly how you feel and I am sorry,” she whispered.

Gemma blushed and tried not to cry as she nodded. “Thank you.”

“We will compare war stories someday, I think,” her sister-in-law said. “And take solace in where our lives have taken us.”

“Yes, Gemma is safe now from whatever he plans,” Crispin continued, though his voice was gentler now, softer. “But Mary is not.”

Rafe nodded. “We discussed her yesterday. We would be happy to help.”

“Good, because I’ve already offered the man two Seasons hosted by the celebrated Duke and Duchess of Hartholm.” Crispin folded his arms, as if daring the two to deny him.

Gemma covered her face briefly. God, he could be a clod sometimes, utterly unaware of himself. He was supposed to be politely asking his brother and sister-in-law for assistance, not declaring the deed to be done and expected.

“I am so very, very sorry,” she moaned, forcing herself to lift her head and look at the duke. Rafe stood impassive behind the couch where she sat.

His brow wrinkled and he exchanged a brief look with his wife. “Why?” they asked in unison.

Gemma struggled for words. “Because we were put in a terrible position with my father today and Crispin claimed an offer that didn’t truly exist. We should have talked to you about it first, we should have verified that it was all right with you, we should have—”

Rafe held up a hand with a laugh. “Great God, woman, stop before you hurt yourself. We are happy to help your sister. Of course, at this moment, I speak for my wife, since she will likely be far more help than I could be.”

Serafina shook her head, but she was smiling. “You may speak for me on this subject, my love, for you know my mind exactly.” She turned her attention to Gemma. “I am very, very happy to chaperone and host your sister. For you and for Crispin, but also because I do know what it is like to have all your choices torn away. If we can grant Mary a few, I will be exceedingly happy to help.”

“Truly?” Gemma breathed, all her anxiety fading for a moment.

“Of course,” Serafina reassured her. “I will need a few weeks before I can return to the ballroom, but I could pass that time by talking to your sister, we can work out a few strategies, we can discuss gowns and potential good mates. And if your father insists, Rafe could easily step out as chaperone.”

Annabelle smiled. “Serafina is a wonderful help. She and my brother helped me greatly.”

At her side, Marcus snorted. “You helped
yourself
right into a scandalous marriage with a club owner. Please don’t terrify poor Gemma with your story.”

Gemma found herself laughing as Annabelle playfully swatted her husband. “From all I’ve seen, I think she made a good match, with Serafina’s help or not.”

Annabelle sighed. “Indeed, I would agree. If your sister ever has to choose between a titled fop and true love, I will strongly advise her to choose true love. I think Serafina will agree to that, too, despite having her own fop.”

Rafe clutched his heart. “You wound me,” he growled, but it was all in jest.

Their mother rolled her eyes and looked at Gemma. “Do you see what you have married into?”

Gemma nodded, playing along, but her heart had been swelling more and more with every exchange. Yes, this was what she’d married into. This loud, funny, exuberant, and very loving family. And they accepted her, at least so far.

She glanced at Crispin. He was also watching it all, but his wry smile held caution that made her happiness fade.

“I knew you would all help willingly,” he said, interrupting the reverie. “However, the point may be moot. Gemma’s father may not allow Mary to do any of this. He has not yet accepted the offer.”

The jovial tone in the room vanished and Gemma clenched her hands in her lap. It was so easy to feel light with this family, that she had forgotten that one dark point. Her father was petty enough he very well might deny them their plan.

“Well, if that is true than we must urge him along,” Rafe said. “I could—”

Serafina glanced up at him. “You will do nothing,” she interrupted. “In this case, I think it will be better if I make the contact.” She rubbed her hands together, as if plotting a delicious coup. “I shall use my very best Duchess of Hartholm signature.”

“You have a Duchess of Hartholm signature?” Marcus asked.

Serafina nodded. “Oh yes, of course. It’s very fancy and fine and conveys the importance of my role. Especially to those who may need reminding. I think I shall say, ‘The Duke of Hartholm and I very much look forward to escorting your daughter Mary through the remainder of this Season and all of the next.’”

“But he hasn’t agreed,” Gemma sputtered.

“No, Serafina is brilliant,” Crispin said. “She will address it as if it is already resolved. It pressures him to acquiesce so he won’t look like an idiot.”

Serafina smiled at him. “Thank you, Crispin.”

Crispin stared at his sister-in-law for a moment, then he slowly came around the settee and knelt before her. “No, thank you, Serafina. Thank you.”

Gemma watched the exchange and she saw that there was far more to it. Crispin was apologizing to her as much as thanking her. And from Serafina’s gentle expression, she knew it too.

“We’re so happy to have you back,” she whispered.

He nodded, but there was a flicker of pain in his stare.

At that moment, there was a light knock and a maid stepped into the room, a bundle of blanket in her arms. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to bring Young Crispin when it was time for his feeding, Your Grace.”

Crispin got up and helped Serafina do the same. She did so slowly, but her face lit up as she held out her arms for her baby.

“Thank you, Bridget.”

The maid smiled warmly at her mistress and then the rest of the room before she left the family alone.

“Ah, the little man is hungry,” Serafina cooed. “And I’ll take him out the room to do that, but before I do.” Her lashes fluttered up. “Do you think you’d like to hold him, Uncle Crispin?”

Crispin tensed at the question. Had he ever held a baby before? Not in his recollection, though perhaps he had held Annabelle as a baby.

Still, that wasn’t exactly his style. He stammered, looking for an answer, but Serafina didn’t wait. She moved a step closer.

“Hold your arms like I am,” she encouraged him, and he copied her stance as best he could. “I’ll lay him in the crook there and all you must do is hold his head steady.”

Crispin hesitated. “Serafina, I—”

She smiled. “You won’t break him, Crispin, I assure you.” With that, she set the warm armful of blanket into his arms and, once her hands were free, pulled the edge away to reveal a tiny pink face.

Crispin froze at the sight of it, the sight of this little life in his arms, created by his brother and the sister-in-law Crispin had been avoiding for months. This baby was a Flynn. This baby shared his blood. And his name. He couldn’t forget that this baby shared his name.

An intense, powerful and very sudden swell of love filled him as he stared into the blue eyes that looked very much like his own. He would protect this child. He would love this child. He would do everything he could to make this child happy.

“Powerful, isn’t it?” Rafe asked, and Crispin jerked his head up. All he could manage was a nod, for he feared his voice would crack if he said anything at present.

The baby squirmed ever so slightly and let out a plaintive cry. Crispin stared at Serafina in horror. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, he just wants his supper.” Serafina laughed. She motioned to Gemma. “Give him to your wife, and the ladies and I will retire so I can grant him his wish while you men talk seriously over port.”

She walked away, and Crispin met Gemma’s eyes as she slowly stood. She looked as nervous as he had as she held out her arms for the baby, but as soon as the child was in her arms, she relaxed with a happy sigh.

“Oh, it’s the smell of them, isn’t it?” she whispered.

It was Crispin’s mother who laughed. “They should bottle it.”

“Come, ladies,” Serafina said as she opened the door. “Our parlor awaits.”

Crispin watched as his new wife carried his brother’s child from the room, her beautiful face focused entirely on the little bundle in her arms. Relaxed as she was, her expression was readable in every way. He saw that it wasn’t only her late husband who had wanted a child. The flicker of joy and pain in Gemma’s eyes told him she had wanted that just as desperately.

The door closed behind the four women and Crispin sucked in a long breath, the first he had taken in what felt like an eternity.

“So that is your namesake,” Rafe said, coming around the settee to clap him on the shoulder. “What do you think of him?”

“He’s a handsome boy,” Crispin said, still almost feeling the weight of the baby in his arms.

“Which will make it easier for him to Flynn his way through whatever Society he chooses to keep.” Marcus laughed as he made his way to the sideboard to peruse the choices of port. Neither man stopped him. As the owner of an infamous club, he certainly knew more about spirits than either of them.

“Do you think he will be wild, with you a duke instead of a free gentleman?” Crispin asked, musing briefly about his carefree youthful days with his brother, causing trouble in every corner.

Rafe’s mouth pinched. “You act as though everything has changed. But damn it, man, do I seem so different to you?”

Crispin hesitated. When his brother had been forced to wed, it had been difficult for him. At the very same time, he had been faced with his own decision about the future. Decisions that had ultimately been ripped from his hands in the worst way possible. Rafe’s being trapped into being a duke had seemed to represent every loss of freedom, choice and life that Crispin had ever imagined.

Perhaps he had not handled it well at the time. Afterward, he had run. Far and fast and hard and never thinking about the consequences until Annabelle got herself twisted up with Marcus in the hopes of helping him.

“There are some things that are different,” he said softly. “With everyone since last summer.”

“Of course there are,” Rafe said with a shake of his head. “I am happily married and now a father. Annabelle gave up her ridiculous notion that respectability would make her happy and eloped as scandalously as can be with Marcus. Mama is a grandmother, Serafina is a mother. She also took up some new form of needlepoint and Annabelle learned a piece on the pianoforte. If you leave a family for long enough, Crispin, they will change. That is just the way time works.”

Crispin flinched at his brother’s words, even though there was little heat behind them. It reminded him of how he had failed those he loved. How he had let his own tangled emotions trump everything else.

Which is how he had ended up here.

“But you can’t go back,” Rafe continued. “So all I can say is that I’m glad you’re here now. Are you?”

Crispin nodded and there was no hesitation to it. “Yes. Very glad I’m here. Very grateful for your help with Gemma’s sister. It will take a great deal of pain and pressure from her shoulders.”