Leaning back, she squinted and pointed at the package he held in his other hand. “What’s that?”

“A gift for you.” Setting her back on the floor, he crouched and handed it to her, taking delight in her excitement as she tore away the brown paper—quite quickly and efficiently with those little fingers of hers—to reveal the book Fancy had suggested. He hadn’t intended to ask her to go boating with him, but the realization that gents were calling on her had sent a primal and possessive need to claim her through him, and the invitation had come out before he’d been able to analyze the wisdom of it or give it much thought.

“A book!” Tillie exclaimed. “I love it!” Immediately she sat on the floor and began turning pages.

“Tillie! A lady does not sit upon the floor.”

Glancing up at his sister, he smiled. Two years his senior, she’d been married nearly six years now and had yet to produce the heir. “Surely she is forgiven when it is her excitement over a book that prompted her actions.”

“You spoil her.”

“As though you don’t.”

Straightening, he went to her and bussed a quick kiss over her cheek. “You have more color in you today. I’ve been a bit worried. You were quite pale the last few times I visited.” He remembered a time when he hadn’t noticed things like complexion.

“Would you say I’m glowing?”

“I would rather.”

Lifting her shoulders, she gave him a secretive smile. “I’m with child.”

He took her hand, squeezed. “Ah, Sylvie, that’s wonderful.”

“Four months. I almost told you last time but wanted to wait until I wasn’t taking a second look at my breakfast each morning. However, that seems to have passed now, so we’re hopeful all will be well. Fairhaven is beside himself. I am praying for the heir. He says he doesn’t care, but he’s a marquess. Of course he wants a son to pass everything off to. Just as you do.” She touched his cheek. “You look healthier of late. I’m pleased to see that.”

“I am more of myself, these days.” In part, thanks to Fancy Trewlove.

“I’m glad. I have a favor to ask before Fairhaven joins us.” She moved over to her daughter and bent. “Come along, Tillie. The floor is no place for a lady. Let’s retire to the parlor so we can sit properly.”

“I’ve got her.” He scooped her up into his arms, her delightful laugh warming his heart. He wondered if Fancy had been reprimanded in a similar manner when she was growing up, never allowed to truly be a child, but always cognizant of how one should behave instead of how one wanted to behave. He hoped her family hadn’t been quite as strict as his sister.