“About six hours. We’ll arrive in time for dinner.”

A slow smile dawned on her face. “I suppose we could talk about the weather or look at the view, but I can think of a better way to spend our time.” She reached out and pulled the shade closest to her shut. “You?”

He pulled down his shade as well. “A much better way.”

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Worthington Place, September 1821

Eleanor and John had arrived that morning to discover Augusta was already in labor.

Not long afterward, Phinn strolled into the morning room holding a swaddled babe. “I would like you all to meet Mr. Anthony Hector Carter-Woods. We can’t stay long. He’s going to want to eat.”

Everyone took turns either taking a small hand or looking at the newest member of the family.

Grace stroked the infant’s head. “You must write to your brother. He will be delighted.”

“He will,” Phinn agreed, but he did not appear happy about it. “Augusta and I will not raise our son with all the pomp my brother had to endure.”

“At least now the succession is secured.” Matt gazed at the infant.

“There is that.” Phinn juggled his son as Anthony started to fuss. “I must get him back to Augusta.”

Eleanor stroked her swelling stomach that was still hidden by her gown. “I suppose it is time to tell you that John and I will have a baby this winter.”

Rothwell grimaced. “I am never gambling with Kenilworth again.”

“How much this time?” Matt grinned.

“A monkey.”

Montagu Hall, February 1822

Eleanor cried out, and John downed the brandy he’d poured hours before. “I can’t take this.”

Kenilworth groaned. “Then go up to her and make sure they’re using the birthing chair Charlotte brought. Don’t let a doctor tell you what to do. She is your wife and those babies are your children.”

“You’re right. We should have called the midwife first.”

“I’ll see what’s happened to her; you go to Eleanor.”

John set down the glass and took the stairs two at a time. What he found was a deadlock in the birthing room. “What is going on?”

Charlotte pointed at the doctor. “I do not know why anyone could have thought he was the right person to attend Eleanor. This man has never used a birthing chair before.”

Grace was sitting on the bed, speaking in a low voice with Eleanor.

“That’s old-fashioned thinking, my lord.” The doctor had apparently decided John could be there, but not to help Eleanor.

He decided to listen to his sisters-in-law. “Old-fashioned or not, these ladies have six children between them, including two sets of twins.” He looked at Charlotte. “Are you able to manage until the midwife arrives? Kenilworth is finding out what is keeping her.”