Her gaze shimmered with emotion, and her gaze darted to his mouth before she tucked her head against his shoulder. She let out a quivery sigh that he felt in his balls. Even though it had only been two days since their last bedding, he was already hungry for her. He didn’t know why talking with her about everyday matters should make him feel randy, but it did.
“I’m so lucky you’re my ’usb…husband,” she whispered.
“I am the lucky one, Fancy.” He meant it; he couldn’t think of another woman who could bring out the best in Toby and try to lure Eleanor from her shell. Who would care enough to do so.
While Imogen had given him the names of dressmakers, tutors, and the like who she’d claimed could make his siblings respectable, she had not offered to provide them guidance herself. Not that he had any right to expect that from her, especially not after the one disastrous meeting she’d had with them. Imogen had been subjected to Cecily’s vulgar fawning over her jewels, Jonas’s inexpert flirtation, and Eleanor’s utter indifference. Toby had capped things off by upending a cup of tea on her lap.
Imogen had not come for a return visit.
Yet Fancy was somehow making inroads with his siblings, a feat he had frankly begun to think was impossible. She shouldn’t have to go at it alone. They were his kin, after all, and his responsibility.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I have some time tomorrow. I shall escort you on your outing.”
Her lips curved against his chest. “That would be lovely.”
The following afternoon, Severin accompanied Fancy, Toby, and Eleanor to the modiste. He was relieved that Amelie Rousseau was as discreet as his wife had said. The modiste seemed to have taken a genuine liking to her new patron.
While Fancy was changing, the dressmaker murmured to him, “In designing Her Grace’s new wardrobe, I chose simplicity over ornamentation. True beauty, the kind that glows from within, has no need of excessive polish, yes? No need to gild the lily.”
Severin could not agree more.
Afterward, he took his wife and the children to Gunter’s Tea Shoppe on Berkeley Square. Amongst the fashionable set, it was the place to see and be seen, and waiters brought ices out to the lords and ladies, who enjoyed the treats in their carriages parked along the square. Since it was Fancy and the children’s first visit, all three wanted to eat inside the shop.
Severin secured them a table, and after deliberations worthy of Parliament over the ice menu, Fancy chose chocolate, Toby praline, and Eleanor pineapple. Severin opted for a plate of teacakes. When the sweets arrived, he enjoyed the delight on his wife and siblings’ faces even more than the delicious confections. Eleanor, who’d had her nose buried in a book during the fitting, laid the volume aside as she, Fancy, and Toby sampled one another’s flavors and debated which was the best.
Watching Fancy interact with the children, Severin had a sudden thought that one day she would be doing this with their own children. Given the frequency of their beddings, chances were good that she would be increasing soon. Part of his motivation to wed had been to secure an heir, but seeing Fancy wipe a smudge of cream from Toby’s nose—shockingly, the only mess he’d made thus far—turned the hypothetical into something…visceral.
Severin pictured her belly swollen with his child, her eyes in the face of their son, her sweetness in the smile of their daughter, and his chest constricted with a feeling he couldn’t quite name.
Possessiveness, maybe.
Fancy smiled at him over the empty dishes. “May we go for a stroll around the square, Knight?”
Although he had planned to return to work, he didn’t have the heart to deny her.
Thus, they ambled along the tree-lined street gilded by the autumn sunshine. Fancy and Eleanor walked ahead, Severin and Toby following behind. To keep Eleanor out of her book, Fancy had taken the girl by the hand, pointing out things in shop windows, their bonneted heads leaning together like blooms.
“Thank you for taking Eleanor and me out today, Your Grace,” Toby said.
Severin returned his gaze to his half-brother’s freckled face. “It is my pleasure, Toby. You needn’t stand on formality: Knighton will do.” During the awkward pause that followed, he heard Fancy’s voice in his head: A little encouragement would go a long way. He cleared his throat. “Fancy tells me that you have, er, an