Tom asked his butler. “Lady Sidmouth shall have my hide if I have lost her again.”
“Mrs. Trenton has taken her to the kitchens for a treat, my lord,” Trenton told him.
A great deal had changed in the last year. Mrs. Brown was now Mrs. Trenton. But one thing which had not changed at all was Adelaide’s penchant for adventure, which was equally matched by her curious habit of snacking on books and correspondence.
“She is going to be a sausage on legs if Mrs. Trenton continues spoiling her,” Tom said. “I do hope she is not slipping her another rasher of bacon. Between the machinations of her and the duchess, I do believe Lady has nearly doubled in size.”
Grandmère had taken a rather surprising fancy to Lady after all. And she had also taken to Hyacinth as well. Reluctantly on both counts, but the dragon had decidedly been tamed. She was no longer breathing fire or threatening the destruction of the realm.
“I shall warn Mrs. Trenton regarding the bacon, my lord,” Trenton reassured him, his countenance as grave as if he were discussing a matter of far more ominous portent.
“Very good.” Tom nodded. “I am off to the gardens with Lady Sidmouth. See that Mrs. Trenton keeps an eye on Lady, won’t you? Yesterday, the scamp got into my correspondence again.”
With that, Tom strode off in the direction he knew he would find his wonderful wife, tending to the herb garden she had begun a year ago. The letter Lady had partially eaten this time had been from his father. Although she had sunk her teeth into it before he had been able to read the epistle, Tom had been able to glean that his father would soon be returning to London at last.
He found his wife sitting in a chair amidst the glorious greenery of her garden, a precious, swaddled bundle in her arms. The day was unseasonably warm, but he did not mind as he made his way to Hyacinth and their daughter. They had named her Grace, after his mother, much to Grandmère’s dismay.
“How are my two favorite ladies?” he asked softly, unable to resist going to them and dropping a kiss on each of their silken brows.
Grace was sleeping soundly in the safety of her mama’s arms, her rosebud lips parted as she dreamt.
Hyacinth turned her face up and pressed her mouth to his for a lingering kiss before pulling away. “We are much better now that you are here, my love. Did you find Lady?”
“Mmm.” He stole another kiss because one was not enough. “Mrs. Trenton is once more spoiling her rotten in the kitchens.”
“Again?” Hyacinth chuckled. “With your grandmother and Mrs. Trenton doting over her, she shall turn into a ham on legs in no time at all.”
He grinned. “That is almost precisely what I told Trenton.”
The only difference had been the porcine food into which Lady would metamorphose. Sausage. Ham. Little difference.
Hyacinth sighed. “I suppose it is better if she is in the kitchens than in the library.”
“Indeed,” he said wryly, thinking of the occasion upon which Lady had eaten up half a volume of Tennyson. “She is a vexing hound, is she not? She may count herself fortunate she is responsible for bringing us together.”
“Are you still happy she did, my love?” Hyacinth asked tenderly.
His answer was effortless. “Every day of my life.”
“As am I.” Her affectionate smile stole his breath. “Would you care to hold Grace for me, darling? It is time for me to go and lay her down for a nap in the nursery, I do believe.”
Tom took his sleeping daughter from Hyacinth, gazing down at her with all the love blazing in his heart. She had plump cheeks, Hyacinth’s nose and long lashes, and hair as white as wheat just as Tom’s had been when he was a babe. According, at least, to Grandmère. He dropped another kiss on her brow as Hyacinth rose to her feet.
“She has her mother’s unparalleled beauty,” he said, unable to steal his gaze from his daughter.
How strange it was that a person so small could bring him to his knees each time he gazed upon the perfection of her little face.
“I think her father is quite beautiful himself,” Hyacinth said, an underlying tone in her voice he did not mistake.
He glanced up at his wife. “Now?”
She gave him a coquette’s smile. “Now, my love.”
When his beloved wife was hinting that she wanted to be made love to, Tom was not one to drag