Silas and Caro were here with their four children, their oldest Roberta now fourteen and growing into a beauty like her mother. Traces of gray showed in Silas’s thick tawny hair, while Caro glowed with the contentment of a life well lived. Helena and Vernon, of course, with their three children. Fenella and Anthony Townsend had brought their son and daughter, Henry and Emily, while their older boys, Carey Townsend and Brandon Deerham, had come along to help keep the boisterous youngsters under control.
The first three Dashing Widows had found love and fulfillment and paved the way for the second trio of Dashing Widows to make their way to happiness.
Morwenna was certainly happy with how everything had worked out. Robert had wanted a big family, and fate had delivered one. Her sons, seven-year-old Michael and six-year-old Frederick, both lean and dark like their father, were playing around the boats along the riverbank. Robert’s fascination with sailing had continued into the next generation.
Her daughters Kate and Bella trailed their older sister Kerenza about the field, no doubt driving her mad. At twelve, Kerenza had to cope with endless adoration from the little girls of three and four, although most of the time, she took it in her stride. Kerenza, Morwenna was pleased to say, took most things in her stride.
She stared down at Jane, six months old, and already promising to be another child who wasn’t too fussed about unimportant things.
A bark caught her attention. Kerenza had stopped to lift Kate onto a fat piebald pony, while Bella played with Kerenza’s dog Rascal. Rascal more than lived up to his name. Morwenna often wished they’d called the black spaniel Little Angel.
“Goodness me, you’re so dreamy at the moment. It’s hardly worth trying to talk to you,” Amy said crossly. “Did you hear me say the news is all over Town that the King is ill? It looks like we might have a queen on the throne before the end of the year.”
“That’s nice,” Morwenna said, although she hardly cared. Her days as part of London society seemed long ago now.
Amy sighed impatiently. “I’m sure I wasn’t nearly so besotted with my babies.”
That caught Morwenna’s attention. “I’m sure you were—and are.”
Amy had borne her first child, golden-haired Charlotte, five months after Robert came home. Wilfred arrived two years later. The strikingly good-looking Dacre children were hanging around their cousins on the riverbank, under the watchful eye of Miss Carroll and their father Gervaise, Lord Pascal.
These days, Amy and Pascal didn’t spend much more time in Town than Morwenna and Robert. London’s handsomest man had, much to the fashionable world’s astonishment, become a dedicated farmer. He and his wife devoted most of their attention to a thriving estate in Shropshire, where Amy received great acclaim for her experiments in cattle breeding.
“Who knew I’d find my children even more interesting than my prize Herefords?” Amy paused to admire the sleeping baby. “You’re so lucky that Anne is such a quiet child. Both of mine howled like banshees for the first two years.”
Morwenna smiled down at her daughter, loving her pink cheeks and soft, light brown curls. She was going to grow up to be one of the leonine Nashes. “After Bella, I deserve a quiet baby. I swear she didn’t sleep a wink until she was three.”
“She’s still a bundle of energy,” Amy said, glancing across to where Bella rushed over to torment her cousin Wilfred, Amy’s dark-haired son.
Sally and Charles, both as always dressed in the first stare of fashion, approached them up the hill. Once the flurry of greetings was over, Sally was holding Anne, and Charles had gone in search of Silas who was, as usual at these picnics, talking horses with their host.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Sally said softly, running an elegant finger down the baby’s rounded cheek.
“Well, I think so.” From habit, Morwenna searched her friend’s face for some sign of regret or resentment that she’d never had children. But Sally and Charles were so wrapped up in each other, she supposed they were happy as they were. “She’s grown since you last saw her.”
The Kinglakes had made Anne’s acquaintance last Christmas, not long after she arrived in the world. Sally lowered her voice, although only Amy and Morwenna were within earshot. “We’re not telling anyone yet, just in case, but…”
Amy’s face lit up with joy. “Sally, are you going to have a baby?”
Eyes bright with tears, Sally nodded. “In October, if all goes well.”
“Charles will be overjoyed.”
Sally accepted Morwenna’s handkerchief and balancing Anne on one arm, wiped her eyes. “He’s pleased and worried in equal measure—I’m thirty-nine after all. But the doctors say I’m as healthy as a horse. And I feel marvelous.”
“Oh, Sally, I’m so happy for you.” Morwenna laid her hand on Sally’s arm.
“How are my favorite girls getting on?” Robert said from behind her.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” Sally said, turning and batting her eyelashes at him.
“Of course you’re my favorite,” he said, kissing her cheek and taking his newest daughter into his arms. Anne opened bright hazel eyes and gave a satisfied murmur at the move. She adored her papa beyond anything in the world, except perhaps Rascal.
“What about me?” Amy asked.
“You’re all my favorites.” Robert smiled at his sister. “Don’t you know that?”
These days, Robert smiled a lot, and a large gathering like this presented no difficulties. He was no longer the troubled, damaged man who had come back to Morwenna almost eight years ago. Even the horrific slash on his face had faded to a subtle silver. In her opinion, the scar made him look rather dashing.