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The sunlight filtering through the curtains roused Adam from a deep, dreamless slumber. He was still draped all over his wife’s warm, pliant body, her soft curves rising and falling with her breathing, and he could not resist the temptation to brush a light kiss to the nape of her neck.
Jenny stirred under the touch, drowsily turning in his arms to present her firm little mouth for him to kiss. “Awake, Little Briar Rose?” Adam chuckled, his fingers travelling unerringly to the hem of her nightgown.
“That I am not,” Jenny objected somewhat breathlessly. “Adam, please.”
“Patience, Lady Lynton,” he admonished her with mock severity, though he could not keep from smiling. There was something immensely gratifying about finding his wife so responsive to his every touch, a discovery he had only made once Jenny had stopped troubling herself over his comfort to the exclusion of her own.
There had been a time when he had thought his plain, sensible wife quite incapable of any great passion; he now knew himself quite wrong on that score, and was, much to his own surprise, all the happier for it.
Jenny had known herself to be increasing for quite some time, and was determined to make no mention of it until the signs of her condition would become too apparent for concealment. Adam had at last succeeded in persuading her father to invest in his most cherished project, and was quite busy with supervising the works for the canal as well as all the improvements he had planned for his acres; Jenny, for her part, had her hands quite full with bringing the Priory back into order in between her other domestic concerns, and attending to the first rudiments of Giles Jonathan’s education.
Martha seemed quite determined to fuss over health, but in truth, she was in a much better way than she had been with Giles, hardly ever felt sick, and could not have been farther away from moping. In her most fanciful moments Jenny was inclined to put forth the reasoning that, since she had already provided Fontley with an heir, there might be no possible objection to her secret hope for a daughter this time; Giles, on the other hand, would most likely benefit from a brother near his age with whom he could play, and as for Adam, she could not be quite sure what his preference was, if indeed he had any at all.
Not that it mattered, she reflected with her habitual common sense; Adam remained at present blissfully ignorant of his wife’s condition, and in any case, this was one of those occasions when nothing could be done to accommodate him, so it would be of no use at all for her to consult his opinion on the subject.
Adam received the news that Julia had been safely delivered of Rockhill’s son and heir with perfect equanimity; from the tone of her letter Lady Oversley appeared quite besotted with her grandchild, and so full of praise for her daughter’s virtues that he had no difficulty in venturing forth the prediction the child must of course favour the Marquis. He had fully expected his wife to answer in kind, perhaps even a harmless joke at good old Lambert’s expenses; to his surprise, Jenny did neither, but instead observed rather gravely that she was very pleased for her friend, and for Rockhill, too.
However, it was only when he poked his head into the nursery after breakfast to be met with the intelligence that Lady Lynton had taken Master Giles Jonathan along with her for her morning stroll that he realised Jenny believed him to be distressed by Lady Oversley’s announcement, and was intent on giving him space to mourn his lost love. Adam, who had scarcely spared any thought for Julia over the past few months, could not but feel heartily ashamed of his past conduct; pausing only to scribble a hasty note to be delivered at once to his foreman, he made a point of seeking out his wife and son.
He found them in the orchard, and after surprising his Jenny with a swift kiss to her cheek, took them both to the oak tree which stood proudly within view of the ruined chapel.
“My grandfather planted this tree on the day I was born,” Adam explained, watching with fond amusement his son instantly set about clambering up the great roots. Then he pointed to the sapling standing some ten yards to the right, and beginning to sprout quite nicely. “That one I had put in the ground to mark the occasion of Giles’s christening.”
He saw Jenny’s lips tremble with suppressed emotion, and unthinkingly stepped closer to put his arm about her shoulders. It struck him at last that she was wearing one of the gowns she had had made on purpose during her pregnancy, and wondered how he could have been so blind as to put down the marked plumpness of her figure of late weeks to her hearty appetite and her newfound ease with her being mistress of Fontley.
“When...?” he began, and although she would not look at him, he caught the hint of sudden colour to her cheeks.
“June, I believe,” she spoke at length, steading her son’s reckless attempt at quitting his precarious perch at the foot of the tree. “Adam, I – ”
“I love you,” he said impulsively, and bent down to kiss away her frown. “We shall not tell your father yet, I think.”
“Not for the world,” agreed Jenny, with one small, watery chuckle which went straight to his heart.
Giles Jonathan, left momentarily to his own devices, went about gleefully filling his pockets with every acorn and pebble he could set his small hands upon, with a view to presenting his darling Mama with those same treasures at the earliest opportunity.
“Look, Adam – ‘tis the loveliest little darling I have ever seen, and so very like her Mama.”
From the bed, Jenny watched anxiously as her husband came closer to inspect the result of her labours. Lydia, who had browbeaten her way into the birthing room despite her mother and sister’s objections, might declare herself to be thrilled at the prospect of a niece for her to spoil, but it was still unfortunate that the child should favour the Chawleigh side of the family so strongly.
Adam, who had sent for her father as soon as her pains had begun, showed not the slightest hesitation before extending his arms for Lydia to place her precious burden into. “Papa Chawleigh shall be beside himself with delight,” he said fondly, looking up to meet his wife’s eye. “Moreover, I feel sure he would agree with me that no other name would suit her better than that of her dear mother.”
“Oh no,” Jenny protested at once. “We can’t have that, you know we cannot, Adam. Besides, it would only be confusing, and not at all practical.”
Her husband burst out laughing, and finally consented to relinquish the bundle into the charge of the waiting nursemaid. “My darling sensible wife. How about Mary, then, after your own mother?”
Jenny was left momentarily speechless, and had to make an effort to push back her tears. “Oh, Adam, do you really mean it?”
“Certainly I do. We might even follow Lambert’s example, and have her christened Mary Jane Blanche Maria.”
“Not Maria!” gasped an indignant Lydia. “And I don’t quite see what Mama could possibly have done to deserve the honour, either.”
It was Jenny’s turn to laugh, though it earned her an instant reprimand from the ever-vigilant Martha. “Lydia, dear, you must not speak of your mother thus,” she sought to remind her, even as Martha vigorously plumped the pillows and assisted her in leaning more comfortably against them.
“I perceive Miss Pinhoe is just about to cast us all out of the room,” Adam observed with a humorous twinkle in his eye. He came up to the bed with the clear intent of kissing his wife, and for all that Jenny blushed at having such blatant display of affection witnessed by her sister-in-law and her former nurse alike, she could not find it within herself to stop him. “You have done very well, little goose. Now you must rest a little – I will be on the lookout for your father, and I promise I shall keep him well entertained until you are quite ready to receive him.”
Jenny could not refrain from affectionately squeezing his arm. “You are so good to me,” was out of her lips before she could think better of it, and was only prevented from making a scene by Adam stopping her mouth with another kiss.
“I have not always been, but I fully intend to learn,” he promised, and giving her one of his sweet smiles finally consented to quitting the room.
The nursemaid came forward to present the child, and as she rested back quite comfortably with her daughter securely latched onto her breast, Jenny allowed her feeling of near perfect happiness to overflow at last.