Honoria walked quickly down the lawn. “Hold hard, you two! Let’s just see what’s going on here.”
“Prrrt.”
Caro refocused on Louisa. Unlike her behavior with Honoria, the little girl sat up in Caro’s arms and stared into her face.
“Prrrt,” she said again, chubby fingers not very steadily pointing to Caro’s eyes. Then the tiny fingers touched her cheeks. Louisa leaned close, peering at first one eye, then the other.
She clearly found them fascinating.
“You, my sweet, have very pretty eyes, too,” Caro informed her. They were her father’s eyes, yet not—a similar shade, yet softer, more beguiling…oddly familiar. Caro searched her memory, then realized. She smiled. “You have your grandmother’s eyes.”
Louisa blinked at her, then lifted her gaze to Caro’s hair. A huge, delighted smile wreathed Louisa’s face. “Prrrtttt!”
She reached for the corona of frizzy golden brown; Caro tensed to feel a tug—instead, the tiny hands touched gently, patting, then lacing lightly through. Louisa’s face filled with wonder, big eyes wide as she stiffened her pudgy fingers and drew strands free, marveling….
Caro knew she should stop her—her hair was wayward enough as it was—yet…she couldn’t. She could only watch, her heart turning over, as the little girl explored, curious and enthralled.
The wonder of discovery lit the small, vivid face, glowed in her eyes.
Caro fought, tried so hard to keep the thought from forming, but it wouldn’t be held down. Would she ever have a child like this—hold a child of her own like this—and witness again this simple joy, be touched by such open, innocent pleasure?
Children had never been part of the equation of her marriage. Although she was close to her nieces and nephews, she’d rarely seen them as babies, or even as young children—she couldn’t recall carrying any of them, not even at Louisa’s age.
She hadn’t thought of children of her own—hadn’t allowed herself to; there’d been no
point. Yet the warm weight of Louisa in her arms opened a well of longing she hadn’t until then realized she possessed.
“Thank you.” Honoria returned. “War has been averted and peace restored.” She reached for Louisa.
Caro gave her up, conscious of a reluctant tug—made all the stronger by Louisa, who made protesting noises and leaned back toward her until Honoria allowed her to place her little hands on Caro’s face and plant a damp kiss on her cheek.
“Prrttt!” Louisa said as, satisfied, she turned back to Honoria.
Honoria smiled. “She thinks you’re pretty.”
“Ah.” Caro nodded.
Bootsteps on stone had them looking toward the house; Devil and Michael had come out onto the terrace. The boys saw them; with whoops, they pelted past, swords waving, charging up to the terrace and male company.
Smiling indulgently, Honoria glanced back, checked that the nursemaids were gathering the scattered toys, then, Louisa in her arms, together with Caro started back up the gently sloping lawn.
As she paced alongside, Caro tried to rid herself of—or at least suppress—the thought that had taken up residence in her mind. Marrying just to have children was surely as bad as marrying just to gain a hostess. But she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Louisa, secure and settled in Honoria’s arms.
The little girl’s eyes were wide, her gaze open, yet intent, not serious, yet seeing…Caro remembered again why those eyes seemed familiar. Old eyes, knowing eyes, ageless and all-seeing.
Drawing in a breath, she looked up as they reached the steps to the terrace. She murmured to Honoria as they ascended, “You’re right—she’s the dangerous one.”
Honoria only smiled. Her gaze fell on her eldest, standing by his father’s side, relating some tale of male significance. Michael was talking with his namesake. She made a mental note to give orders that they could have extra dessert tonight—and Louisa, too, of course.
She couldn’t have managed their recent scene better if she’d tried.
18
What did Devil have to say about Camden’s will?” Caro swiveled on the carriage seat so she could see Michael’s face.
He glanced at her, smiled faintly. “The house was left to you outright, in your name, and doesn’t revert to Camden’s estate or anyone else on your death—it would go to your heirs.”
She sat back. “My heirs…that’s Geoffrey, Augusta, and Angela, who definitely aren’t trying to kill me. So there’s no reason buried in Camden’s will for anyone to want me dead.”