Duke of Arrogance, page 23
He stared into the sky blue eyes of his duchess, seeing them filled with love.
“Shall we allow breakfast to start without us?” he asked.
“The sooner we go into our own wedding breakfast, the sooner we may depart,” she said, mischief causing the corners of her mouth to turn up.
Jon kissed her hard and swift and then laughed. “Then to the breakfast we go.”
An hour later, all the toasts had been given and he and Arabella had changed into traveling clothes. They waved goodbye to their friends and boarded his carriage, bound for Kent.
As they drove away, Arabella said, “You have made every dream of mine come true, Jon. I do love you so.”
He captured her face in his hands. “Keep dreaming big, my love. Something tells me there are many more things we will accomplish together.”
Jon kissed his duchess, knowing life with Arabella, Duchess of Blackmore, would be a magnificent adventure.
Epilogue
Blackstone Manor, Dorset—May 1820
Jon ventured into the parlor and saw that Arabella and their two daughters were having a tea party. A pretend one since neither a two-year-old child nor a four-year-old girl could be trusted with fine china. He stood in the doorway and watched as they held up imaginary cups, sipping from them daintily.
“How are my three angels?” he called out, immediately causing the girls to discard the idea of tea and run to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!”
Arabella looked on with a smile. “You missed our tea party, Papa.”
“Then you will have to hold another one tomorrow.”
He ruffled the hair of both girls as they hugged his legs. They favored their mother, with Arabella’s golden curls and sky blue eyes.
“Nanny,” his wife said to the nursery governess sitting in the corner. “Would you take the girls to the nursery?”
“Of course, Your Grace. Come along, my little ladies. It’s your nap time.”
The girls squeezed his legs once more for good measure and he bent and kissed them before the servant escorted them from the room.
Jon went to his wife, who now wore a pained expression. She’d placed one hand to her back and winced.
“Is it time?” he asked.
Arabella nodded. “I think so. I should go to my bedchamber.”
He took her hands and pulled her from the settee. Her huge, rounded belly brushed against his.
She rubbed her hands over it. “I do think it’s a boy this time,” she said. “I have carried this babe differently.”
Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers. “You know I don’t care. We could have a dozen girls. Arthur can always be my heir. As it is, he’s already learning about how to manage an estate. In fact, I am ready to give him one to run on his own.”
“You had said you would gift him one after university. Have you decided which one?”
He told her and she nodded in agreement. “It will be good for him to have his own place but I will miss having him here with us. The girls adore him.” She paused. “Oh!”
Her hands went to her belly again and he heard a slight noise. Being an experienced father, he knew exactly what had occurred.
“Your water has broken. We need to get you to bed and call in the midwife,” he said, sounding calm but worry already filling him.
It did so each time Arabella went into labor. He knew so many things could go wrong. The thought of losing his wife almost paralyzed him.
Scooping her up, Jon carried her from the room. She knew not to protest and merely looped her arms about his neck. They passed their butler and he told Roy to send for the midwife and to find Annie and send her up.
“At once, Your Grace.” Roy took off.
They reached Arabella’s bedchamber. The only other two times she had occupied its bed were to deliver their girls. Jon set her on her feet.
“What do I need to do?” he asked.
“Kiss me,” she responded.
He did so, tasting her sweetness and giving thanks for having such a wonderful family.
“I’ll take it from here, Your Grace,” Annie said as she breezed into the room. “This one will probably come as quickly as the last.”
Jon had learned that first babies took an eternity but that subsequent children could come very quickly.
Just then, Arabella gasped and then groaned.
“Outside, Your Grace,” Annie ordered. “I will take care of Her Grace for you.”
Reluctantly, he kissed Arabella once more and then left. He retreated to his study, where he paced for an hour. Arthur came in and advised him to go spend some time with the girls so Jon made his way to the nursery. They were having their supper and he kept quiet about the baby coming. If there were complications, he didn’t want them to know.
“Help put us to bed, Papa,” his oldest demanded. She was quite stubborn and both he and Arabella accused each other of having passed that along to her.
The nursery governess got them into their nightclothes and he tucked them in, kissing them both goodnight. He returned downstairs and went to stand outside Arabella’s bedchamber. He could hear her cries. They tore at his heart.
Then they stopped. His heart went to his throat. He stared at the door, a silent prayer on his lips, begging God to let her and the babe be all right.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Annie came out.
“Your Grace! You startled me.”
“Is she . . . is everything . . .”
The maid smiled. “Her Grace is doing wonderfully. So is your son.”
“My son?” His voice broke.
He had a son.
“I was just coming to get you. She’s ready for you.”
Jon hugged the servant. “Thank you, Annie. You always take such good care of my wife.”
He released her and entered the room. Another servant bustled about, wadding up bedsheets to be washed. The midwife was placing a bundle in Arabella’s arms. His wife caught sight of him and broke out in a brilliant smile.
Crossing to her, he sat on the bed beside her. Pillows were propped behind her and as always, Arabella looked radiant. He glanced down at the child in her arms and blinked back tears.
“It’s a boy,” she said. “The future Duke of Blackmore.”
Jon placed his hand on the baby’s head. “Our son.”
“Do you want to hold him?” she asked softly.
“Yes. Very much so.”
He accepted the babe and held him to his chest. Gazing down, he saw black hair.
“You know what we will name him,” his wife reminded, as if Jon didn’t know. “Archibald Jonathan Sutton. Do you want to call him Arch, after your brother?”
“He will be his own man,” Jon said. “Perhaps we can call him Archie for now. Later, if he wishes to shorten it, he can.” He pressed a soft kiss to his son’s brow. “You, my boy, will be my heir. One day, Archibald Sutton will become the Duke of Blackmore. As was always meant to be.”
“For now, I’ll be happy that he is the Marquess of Grafton,” Arabella said. “I want the present duke to live for a very long time.”
Jon kissed her tenderly. “Thank you. For three wonderful, beautiful children.”
Arabella smiled at him. “I hope there will be many more, my love.”
Archie opened his eyes and stared up at his father. In that instant, Jon believed Arch looked down upon them and gave his blessing.
About the Author
Award-winning and internationally bestselling author Alexa Aston’s historical romances use history as a backdrop to place her characters in extraordinary circumstances, where their intense desire for one another grows into the treasured gift of love.
She is the author of Regency and Medieval romance, including: Dukes of Distinction; Soldiers & Soulmates; The St. Clairs; The King’s Cousins; and The Knights of Honor.
A native Texan, Alexa lives with her husband in a Dallas suburb, where she eats her fair share of dark chocolate and plots out stories while she walks every morning. She enjoys a good Netflix binge; travel; seafood; and can’t get enough of Survivor or The Crown.
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Aston, Alexa, Duke of Arrogance
