Completely besotted, Robert went.
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
Morwenna waited upstairs in her bedroom. After witnessing Robert and Kerenza’s meeting, she’d needed some time alone to smile and wish, and cry over his vulnerability and sweetness and courage.
She’d been so afraid of what might happen this afternoon, and it turned out she’d had no reason. Father and daughter had quickly established an understanding. He and Kerenza had marched off in perfect accord, after that moving meeting that had left Morwenna fighting the urge to bawl like a baby.
Kerenza had come to find her an hour or so ago, bubbling over with talk of her dashing papa. Although the promised puppy was an equally favored topic of conversation, Morwenna noted with amusement.
The puppy had been a goal for a couple of years now, since Silas’s spaniel bitch had given birth to a litter during one of Kerenza’s stays at Woodley Park. If Robert’s return meant a dog joining the family, Kerenza’s affections would be eternally engaged.
It was only when Morwenna saw them together that she understood quite how alike were these two beings she loved more than life. She’d always found comfort in saying Kerenza took after her father. But watching the two of them negotiate a friendship, she’d found it almost uncanny how their expressions mirrored each other.
She’d ached to fling her arms around both of them and smother them with love. But that encounter in the pavilion hadn’t been about her, but about them. Dear heaven, she’d felt privileged to witness their blooming closeness.
One of the things Morwenna had found most touching about bringing Robert and Kerenza together was how prosaic the occasion had proven. She’d expected tears and drama and raging emotion. But while she’d had no doubt of the depth of Robert’s response to seeing his daughter for the first time, the introductions had passed off with an ease beyond her most optimistic hopes.
So she’d consigned an overexcited Kerenza to the custody of a disapproving Miss Carroll and promised she’d bring Robert in to say goodnight to his daughter. Before she left, Kerenza had bestowed a sticky and enthusiastic cuddle on her. Fenella Townsend, Caro’s close friend and one of the first Dashing Widows, had perfect children who didn’t seem to know what mud was. Kerenza, on the other hand, loved the stuff, especially if it was mixed with muck from the stables. Her dress showed evidence of a fun visit to the horses.
Then had come the moment that had slashed a jagged rift across Morwenna’s much-beleaguered heart.
“Is Papa really home to stay?” Kerenza whispered, her face jammed up against Morwenna’s ear.
“Yes, he is, Kerenza. He said he’s never going away again, and he means it.”
The warm little arms tightened around her neck. “I’m glad. I love Papa.”
“I know, pumpkin,” Morwenna’s choked out, as her grip on her daughter firmed. “And he loves you, too.”
“So he’ll be here tomorrow?”
The fears of an orphan child couldn’t be banished so quickly. But today had provided a good start.
In fact, an excellent start.
“Yes. And every day after that.”
“The pirates won’t come for him?”
“No, sweetheart. Your papa is more than a match for any number of pirates.”
“I know that,” she said comfortably and squirmed away. Kerenza was an affectionate child, but didn’t like to cuddle for too long when she had other places to go.
Morwenna had watched her daughter race away to the nursery and no doubt many tales to share with her cousins. For so long, Morwenna had lived in a world of grief and absence. It was surprisingly difficult to adjust to a landscape bright with hope.
But it seemed hope must find its place in her life. Her daughter was happy. Her husband was clearly beside himself with delight at his lovely little daughter.
And Robert had smiled.
More, he’d laughed. Morwenna had wanted to cry from sheer relief, because in that instant, the two Roberts she loved—the man she’d married and the man who had returned to her—had united into one beloved whole.
Morwenna had assumed Robert would seek her out, once Kerenza came inside. Perhaps whisk her away for a breathtakingly carnal encounter. The restless rush of her blood told her that his attentions were overdue. He turned her into a complete wanton, and she didn’t give a tinker’s curse. She had years to make up for, and he was welcome to tup her from Truro to Inverness if it made him feel better.
It certainly made her feel better.
But she’d put her impatience aside—barely—when she thought again about the afternoon. After meeting his daughter for the first time, he was likely to need some privacy to come to terms with his reaction.