Family in all its aspects—the heartache and the pain, as well as the joy, the warmth, and the wonder.
After a moment of quiet reflection, Honoria rediscovered her smile and walked on.
Ten minutes later, Mary materialized at Ryder’s side. When he arched a brow at her, she twined her arm with his, lightly squeezed. “I’ll tell you later.”
He smiled gently. “No need.” He tipped his head to where Portia stood, Simon having just joined her, while next to Mary, Henrietta had returned to James’s side. “Portia explained.”
Mary smiled a touch mistily, then drew in a breath and turned to the others.
As if by agreement, they slid back into their previous occupation, chatting about family and family happenings. Henrietta and James’s bridal trip, from which they had only just returned, provided an easy start.
“Italy was simply marvelous!” Henrietta assured them.
“Lots of old ruins, all of which she perforce had to see.” James grinned. “Mind you, some of the statues were arresting.”
The others laughed, then a shrieking wail cut through the conversations and Portia, alerted, looked around. “Oh, good heavens!” She poked Simon’s shoulder. “Go and rescue poor Milly from your son. He’ll quiet if you carry him about.”
“My son?” But Simon was already turning to the circle of nursemaids. “Why is he always my son when he’s being difficult?”
“Well, he didn’t get ‘difficult’ from me, so who else would be responsible?” Portia prodded him on his way, waved to the others, and followed.
Leaving the other four staring after them, watching . . . after an instant, each couple drew their gazes away and exchanged a private glance, then Henrietta turned to Mary just as Mary turned to her.
“We’re expecting . . .”
They’d spoken in unison. Both blinked, then identical smiles bloomed, lighting their faces.
Henrietta whooped and hugged Mary.
Who jigged and hugged her tightly back. “When?”
“March! And you?”
“Sometime in March, too!”
James and Ryder, both beaming fit to crack their faces, shook hands and clapped each other on the shoulder. “We haven’t told anyone else yet,” Ryder confessed.
“Neither have we,” James confirmed. He glanced at the crowd all around, then arched a brow at Ryder. “We thought we might wait a few months.”
“Sound notion,” Ryder said. “We thought the same.”
The men stood shoulder to shoulder and, with proud expressions stamped on their faces, watched their wives, heads together now, chattering nonstop. Then James said, “It takes a little getting used to, the notion of having a child in your life.”
“It does.” Ryder nodded. “But I can’t think of a more . . . glorious expectation.”
“True.” James drew in a half-laughing breath. “It’s a scarifying prospect, but so damned wonderful.”
Later, when they’d parted from Henrietta and James, each couple swearing to keep the other’s secret, and were once again ambling idly through the crowd, Ryder glanced at Mary, strolling by his side, her arm twined with his. “Would you like to go on a wedding trip, too?”
She considered, then looked up and, smiling, shook her head. “There’s a lot I want to get settled, at the abbey, on your other esta
tes, and in the London house, too—all before March. I’d rather devote myself to that, and to all the rest we have on our plate, than swan around to places unknown. Sometime, perhaps, when our children are grown . . .” Brows rising, she added, “I really ought to suggest that to Mama. Once we go up to town and Stacie is settled with us, there’s no reason Mama and Papa can’t travel and see more of the world.”
Ryder’s lips twitched. “The only event I would consider less likely than your father agreeing to leave England when you and Henrietta, or Portia, or even the twins might decide to be increasing is for your mother to agree to such a trip.”
Mary grimaced. “There is that.”
A moment later, she drew him to the edge of the lawn. “I’ve been thinking that, quite aside from the estate picnic—which, by the way, I’ve decided should coincide with the harvest—as head of the Cavanaugh family, we really ought to host an event similar to this. Not just for your half siblings, but for the connections, too. As is done here.” She glanced up at him. “It helps—”