The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

“I was terrified.” Pierce’s jaw tightened. “You were so weak when that midwife threw me out.” He shuddered. “Seeing you in pain and not being able to do a damned thing to ease it—”

“Stop.” Daphne pressed her fingers to his lips. “I’m perfectly fine now. Besides, that’s not what I meant. I only wondered if you were disappointed when you thought your first—your only—child was a daughter and not a son.”

Pierce blinked in astonishment. “Disappointed? Not for a second. I told you, Snow flame, indulging a daughter was as real a dream to me as siring a son.” He threaded his fingers through Daphne’s hair. “Still, I must admit, I was thrilled with the idea of acquiring a son and a daughter simultaneously. At least once I was convinced you were all right.” He flashed her a cocky grin. “I did a remarkable job, didn’t I?”

“You?”

“Very well, we. We produced two extraordinary infants.”

“Proclaimed by their unbiased father.” Daphne eased away, folding her arms. “So, what are today’s gifts for the children?”

“What makes you think I bought them gifts?”

“Because you did yesterday and the day before and the day before that. And then last week—”

“All right, you’ve made your point,” Pierce chuckled, not a bit deterred by his wife’s admonishment. “Very well, I spoil them. ’Tis my right, after all. Two of those beautiful infants belong to us and one to Sarah and James. Who else should spoil them, if not I?”

“Quite a question. Now, let’s see.” Daphne tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Cook practically lives in the nursery, when she’s not arguing with Mrs. Gates over whose turn it is to feed the babes. Langley rotates between two posts now, the front door and the nursery. Then there’s Lily and Bedrick, not to mention Mama and the vicar, who alternate between their wedding plans and their nursery visits. Need I go on?”

“There are quite a few people vying for our children’s attention, aren’t there?” Pierce concurred. He paused, considering his options. “Actually, Ashford’s gift is too cumbersome to bring into the manor. He’ll have to wait a bit to see it.”

“I’m afraid to ask. What is this gift?”

“A splendid filly I’ve had my eye on for a fortnight—perfect for our son.”

“Pierce, a horse? The child is a babe!”

“So is the filly. They’ll be ready for each other soon enough.”

“Lord.” Daphne rolled her eyes.

“But the girls’ gifts are quite transportable—and very special. Wait here.” With a mysterious look, he slipped away.

Alone in the nursery, Daphne strolled about, stroking her infants’ fuzzy heads and thanking God for all the love with which they’d been blessed. She paused beside the third crib, where little Alison slept. Born just two weeks before the twins, she had strengthened the ever-growing bond between Sarah and James, and made them precisely what Sarah had prayed for, a family.

“Daphne?” Sarah poked her head in, concern darkening her gaze when she saw where her friend was positioned. “Is there a problem with Alison?”

“No,” Daphne reassured her. “In fact, your daughter seems to be the only one in this nursery who’s cooperating. My two imps evidently never intend to sleep.”

Sarah laughed aloud, the lonely and unhappy young woman she’d been forever

gone: “Where’s Pierce? Rarely is he away from the twins. Has he gone to inspect the new schoolhouse?” She raised teasing brows. “Miss Redmund must be devastated at their prolonged separation.”

“I’m sure she is,” Daphne concurred good humoredly. “Unfortunately, Miss. Redmund will have to accustom herself to seeing less of Pierce, especially now that the construction is complete. After all, her charms, potent though they are, are no match for these three babes here.” Daphne gave a tolerant sigh. “No, Pierce has gone to collect today’s purchases. He’ll be back any moment.”

On cue, the nursery door opened, then kicked shut.

“Oh, Sarah, good. You’re here.” Pierce’s hands stayed firmly behind his back. “I have gifts to give our daughters, but they involve you and Daphne as well.” Seeing their puzzled expressions, he explained, a wealth of emotion in his voice. “It’s been more than a decade since your workhouse meeting—two young girls who were completely different and yet so very much alike. Little did you realize that one day you would span the world separating you to become friends. Because of your courage, our daughters can begin their lives as equals, with none of the censure of the past. And now, to signify their new beginning…” Pierce brought both arms forward, each hand clutching an identical doll with golden hair, huge blue eyes, and a pink satin dress. “For Alison and Juliet,” he proclaimed, offering the dolls, both new and untainted, to their mothers. “In honor of the special women who gave them life.”

“Presenting us with those dolls was a beautiful gesture,” Daphne told Pierce that night in his bedchamber.

She unbuttoned her robe, shaking out her hair and glancing sideways at her husband as he sat down to read the Times, his nightly ritual since the twins’ birth had spawned his forced celibacy. Daphne bit back a smile, determinedly hiding the flush of excitement on her cheeks. “Most heroic. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Pierce frowned, purposely opening the pages of his newspaper to block Daphne and the revealing cut of her nightwear from view. “Tell me when you’re abed. I can’t bear watching you undress and knowing I can’t have you.”

“Very well.” Nonchalantly, Daphne climbed beneath the bedcovers and extinguished the light. “I’m abed.”

“So I gathered.”