All the children stayed in Brandon House, not for the purpose of giving Tysen and Mary Rose privacy but because a house filled with nearly twenty children was bedlam, with an endless parade of fights, laughter, mischief, jests, some tears, and abundant amounts of food.
It was November now, and it should have been cold and dank and dreary, but it wasn’t. There were a few more warm, sunny days remaining before the fall weather made itself known. On those days Tysen enjoyed lying on his back, his head in Mary Rose’s lap, in the apple orchard. The afternoon sun was streaming down through the leaves, and it was warm, the light breeze carrying the smell of honeysuckle.
In the distance they could hear the voices of a good dozen children. But here, they were alone.
Tysen leaned over and kissed her belly. “Too much material between thee and me,” he said, and closed his eyes when he felt her fingers stroking slowly through his hair. He sighed. “I don’t suppose I can drape all your clothes over the apple tree branches?”
“Not just yet,” she said and bent to kiss his mouth. She was silent for a moment, her eyes closed. “It’s like we’re out of time here,” she said slowly, leaning back against the apple tree trunk. “Like it’s not only a different place and time, but we’re also apart from the world and all its realities and demands. Do you miss being the vicar of Glenclose-on-Rowan? It’s been nearly three months now.”
Tysen thought about that. He thought about all the people who had wished him and his new wife well. He thought of his children, their smiles, their laughter, the ferocious fights among the three of them, all of them won by Meggie. And he thought of his own laughter and joy just watching them, and just being with Mary Rose. Waking with her in the mornings, at the Vicarage, Ellis and Monroe stretched across the both of them, purring madly, listening to her speak to his children, seeing their smiles, just knowing that she was there and that she was his and his alone, just as he was hers. And the vicarage—it seemed lighter, and not just because the drawing room was now painted a pale yellow and those dreadful dark draperies had been taken down. No, it just felt as if the house itself had shaken off years of gloom and emerged into the light. It was a very happy place, with Samuel Pritchert the only gloomy face to be seen. Even Mrs. Priddie was smiling now. He’d actually heard her singing once while she baked some haddock in the kitchen.
He frowned. “Have I changed, Mary Rose?”
“Not that I know of,” she said, rubbing her fingers over his brow. “You have always been the same to me, always saying just the right thing, taking care of things. And your laughter, Tysen—I have always loved your laughter, the way you tease me, tease the boys and Meggie. Why would you ask such a strange thing? Haven’t you always been as you are now?”
He didn’t want to examine that. Perhaps he was even afraid for her to know that he had been at one time, perhaps, a bit stricter, a bit less humorous, perhaps even a bit on the stodgy side, even pompous and too austere in his notions, with everyone. “How do you like your new family?” he asked, grabbing one of her hands and holding it against his heart.
“Well, Douglas—the earl. When I first saw him I thought he must be dreadful, you know—stern and autocratic and very lord of the manor.”
“He is a natural autocrat.”
“Perhaps, at least until Alex happened to tickle him under his left arm and he laughed and grabbed her and then he pulled her down behind that settee and her petticoats went flying.
“Your laugh is a lot like his, Tysen. As for Alex, she is amazing, truly. Max has said that he now approves red hair. He said that an aunt and a stepmother have overcome his reservations.” She laughed. “They’re coming around, Tysen. They are grand children.”
“What do you think of Ryder and Sophie?”
“I think Ryder could seduce any woman between the ages of eighteen and eighty.”
“Even you?”
“Oh, no, I’m the only woman who wouldn’t succumb to him with a lovely sigh. You have some of him in you as well. You’re both so filled with kindness and laughter, and everyone seems to shine brighter when you’re near. You walk into a room, and everyone just seems to turn toward you, ready to smile. It’s the same with Ryder.”
He was like Ryder? His fun, carefree brother who’d enjoyed seven mistresses at one time?
“But there’s some of Sinjun in you as well, or perhaps you in her. Sophie manages to hold her own with Ryder—very difficult, I imagine. She’s quiet, just gets things done with no muss or fuss, and I believe that Ryder would crawl on his belly if she wanted him to. Such love and patience both of them have for all the children.”
“Oliver was one of Ryder’s first children,” Tysen said. “He knew only his first name, and hunger and endless cruelty. When Ryder found him in an alley in London, he was dragging his broken leg, trying desperately to find a pocket to pick so he could get some food.”
“But look at Oliver now. He is a man and he is smart and knows he belongs. Ryder did very well by him. And just look at you, a man of God, who cares for everyone in Glenclose-on-Rowan, prays with them, helps them overcome tragedy and unhappiness, and shares happiness with them. You are an excellent man, Tysen. Have I told you that I am the luckiest woman in all of southern England?”
“No, you hadn’t yet told me that.”
“I would be certain of it if only I could manage to get a racing kitten.”
“Hmmm,” Tysen said. “I will write to Rohan Carrington and see what the Harker brothers have to say.”
“I will be philosophical about it if I am rejected by them. Perhaps Leo is right. Perhaps Ellis would make a good racing cat. I saw him running from Mrs. Priddie once, and he flew across that kitchen, skidded on a polished patch, turned an entire flip in the air, and was gone again.
“Now, Tysen, I saw a good dozen of the children climbing all over you this morning.”
“It’s because I had the wit to stop in Lower Slaughter and buy all of them presents. They hope to get more out of me if they swamp me with attention.”
“If I swamp you with attention, what will I get?”
“Ah,” Tysen said, raising an eyebrow and looking up at her, “I just had a very great desire for the private gardens at Northcliffe Hall.”
“I have an excellent imagination.”