“My glow has nothing to do with society,” she said, laying a meaningful hand over her stomach.
It took only a moment for Hannah to realize what she was implying, and with a small squeal of excitement, she gave Talia a swift hug before arranging her features into a careful mask to avoid attracting unwanted curiosity.
“Have you warned your mother-in-law that her considerable efforts to install you as the leader of London society will be brought to an early end?” she teased.
“Not yet,” Talia confessed. “I am still waiting for Gabriel to recover from his shock. The poor man has been walking about as if he is in a dream, or perhaps a nightmare, for the past week.”
“He is pleased, is he not?” Hannah asked in sudden concern.
Talia rolled her eyes. “Outrageously pleased, as well as maddeningly overprotective.” She gave a rueful shake of her head, already sensing her time of confinement was bound to be a battle of wills. Gabriel was of a mind that she should spend the majority of her day lying in bed as if she were an invalid rather than a perfectly healthy mother-to-be with an overabundance of energy. “As soon as I shared my suspicion of my condition, he demanded that we pack our bags and return to Carrick Park. It was only my warning that I would never forgive him for forcing us to miss our own ball that kept him from bundling me in the carriage and leaving that moment.”
Hannah laughed. “So when do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.” Talia shrugged. “And while I have enjoyed being in London, I will not deny it will be a pleasure to return home.”
“I will miss you.”
Talia reached to grab her friend’s hand. “You are always welcome at my home, no matter what you have been told in the past.” Talia glanced toward the man who had so rudely escorted Hannah from Carrick Park months before. Attired in a dark jacket that was molded to his large body and white knee breeches, Hugo leaned against a gilded column, not bothering to hide his unwavering interest in the young woman standing at Talia’s side. “Although I doubt you will be eager to leave London.”
“Oh, I do not know,” Hannah said, a forced airiness in her voice. “It might be fun to spend a few weeks away from the bustle of town.”
“Really, Hannah, how long do you intend to torture the poor man?” Talia demanded, feeling a genuine sympathy for the nobleman who had pursued Hannah with a single-minded devotion.
Hannah’s smile faded as she turned to regard Talia with a somber expression.
“It is not torture,” she said, her eyes shimmering with a yearning that stole Talia’s breath. “I merely need for Hugo to be certain that he will not come to regret his proposal.”
“He could never regret having you as his wife.”
Hannah shook her head. “I appreciate your loyalty, but we both know I have nothing to offer a man such as Lord Rothwell.”
“Do not—”
“Come, Talia,” Hannah interrupted, her expression troubled. “I have no lands, no dowry, not even beauty. What if he grows weary of me?”
Talia squeezed her friend’s hand, knowing with all her heart that Hugo would devote his life to her happiness.
“A man that weds you because of your land or dowry or beauty would quite likely grow weary of you,” she warned. “But a man who weds you because he loves you will always remain true.” Giving a tug with her hand, she urged Hannah off the dais and toward the waiting nobleman. “Now go and join him before Hugo ruins my lovely ball with that dreadful scowl.”
Hannah paused to send her a teasing grin. “What of you?”
Talia’s gaze shifted toward the man who had stolen her heart and given her a life filled with endless promise, her heart forgetting to beat as he flashed her a smile filled with wicked impatience.
“I intend to have a last waltz with my husband before convincing him that no one will miss us if we slip away.”
“Be happy, my friend,” Hannah called, turning to thread her way through the dancers to Hugo’s waiting arms.
“Always,” Talia murmured.