“Now, all the children decided that what Brandon House needed was a resident theater artistic director to live at Brandon House to instruct the children in the art of play-giving, which is, actually, a splendid idea. It will keep the little heathens occupied and entertained, particularly during the long winter months.”
“Was there a play, Ryder?” Jack asked. At his impudent grin, she smiled herself, unable not to because that Sherbrooke grin of his was so warm and so filled with laughter. “Come, tell us, what did you do? What happened to Horace Redfield?”
“Oliver and Jeremy told Fanny what Redfield was doing. She turned as red as the sunset before a storm, Jeremy said, she was so infuriated. So she wrote a short play about this absurd fat little man who could only get elected mayor of the town if he blackened the name of his opponent, who was an honest man. He did this by claiming every child in the town was a bastard and he himself was in search of the father to bring him to justice. It was staged in the middle of the afternoon on the green in Lower Slaughter. Thank God the afternoon was warm and sunny.
“There was no warning about what was in the play, just that ‘Ryder Sherbrooke’s bastards were going to perform for the townspeople.’ Horace Redfield came, all resplendent in a yellow waistcoat, happy as a clam, ready to hammer in the final nails to my coffin by pointing his pudgy finger at all the children and wagging that finger, and remarking that they all resembled me and no one would feel sorry for them and thus vote for me no matter how many free plays they performed.
“All the nails hammered were on Horace Redfield’s coffin. Ah, the children were magnificent. Fanny was superb. One of the children’s teachers, Mr. Forbes, played Mr. Redfield. He was splendidly oily. He’d tied a fat pillow around his waist and wore a bright green waistcoat. Every time he saw a child, any child, even those in the audience, he yelled ‘Bastard!’
“In the end, Fanny James stood up in front of the good two hundred people present and said she was casting her vote for me, the man who took in abused children and fed them and clothed them and made certain they grew up straight and not crooked, like some men she could name. She stared at Redfield, who was by this time standing utterly alone. Even his wife had left his side.
“The election is next week. I do believe I shall win, thanks to my children and a very nice woman who is now in my employ and won’t have to worry about becoming a mistress to any more scoundrels.”
“What an ending, Ryder,” Gray said. “I wish we could have been there.”
Jack turned to Gray, took his hands in hers, and said, “I was thinking that Georgie would very much enjoy meeting all Ryder’s children. Perhaps, too, acting would help her with her stutter. May we go to visit?”
Gray arched an eyebrow in Ryder’s direction. “Come,” Ryder said. “I’m going back home tomorrow. I returned to London only to speak with members of the Tory Party about final strategy, to tell them what happened, which will make them chortle and crow until next week, and to sign some papers. And, naturally, to tell the two of you what had happened. So, Jack, I didn’t have to re-rotten the borough. Now, as to coming to me, why, you’re both welcome anytime. Who is Georgie?”
“Our little sister,” Gray said. “You’ll like her, Ryder. Speaking of little sister—” They all turned to see Dolly standing in the doorway, holding Georgie’s hand.
“I-I-I heard you,” Georgie said. ‘I heard a g-g-gentleman sh-shouting.”
“Not shouting exactly,” Ryder said, striding to the little girl. He dropped to one knee and looked her straight in her one golden eye and her one blue eye. “I must have a big full voice so that all fourteen of my children can hear me.”
“F-F-Fourteen, sir?”
“Yes. When you come with your sister and Gray, you can increase my number of children to fifteen. Would you like that, Georgie?”
Even as Ryder was speaking, Georgie, her shy Georgie, had released Dolly’s hand and begun to move closer to him. By the time he paused, she was right in front of him, smiling. Jack had never seen anything like it. Georgie continued to move toward Ryder until she couldn’t be more than a single inch from his face. “Oh, yes, sir, I would l-l-love to see your children.”
“And you, my little sweetheart, will soon be a favorite with everyone. I think you will make a splendid actress. Now, would you like to select a tart that you think I would like?”
Both Gray and Jack held silent, simply marveling, as Georgie was soon seated on Ryder’s leg, laughing and feeding him an apricot tart. She was speaking quickly between her spurts of very natural and joyous laughter, not stopping when she faltered or stuttered, just tumbling her words one over the other, smiling, so very happy, near to bursting with it.
“He is amazing,” Jack said, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat. “I never would have believed it.”
“I wonder how Parliament will react to him,” Gray said and laughed.
“I just hope the prince regent isn’t so charmed that he wants to sit on him. He’d break Ryder’s legs.”
Because Ryder was Ryder, he didn’t leave the St. Cyre town house, even though members of Parliament were awaiting him, until Georgie, still pleased and excited, had finally fallen asleep with her head on Ryder’s shoulder. He hugged Jack and shook Gray’s hand. “Go take care of Clyde Barrister now.”
“Yes,” Jack said, her eyes lighting up with viciousness, “let’s go.”
But the Honorable Clyde Barrister had left his town house, obviously in a hurry. They were met by his butler, who looked a bit dazed, able to say only that his master had mumbled something about leaving for Greece, that there were bad people after him.
“He’d best stay far from England,” Jack said, a great disappointment in her voice.
“I imagine he will. He’s not stupid. I wonder if he left his brother with a mountain of debts. At least Margaret is safe now.”
Late that evening, after they had both decided that life was possible after lovemaking, Gray kissed her temple and said, “I am very pleased with you and with this marriage, Jack, very pleased indeed.”
“I as well. Actually, there can be no more pleasing me, Gray. You’ve pushed me to beyond pleased.”
He kissed her left ear, pulling the tangle of hair back from her forehead, and kissed her eyebrows. “And what do you say to that?”
She didn’t say anything for a very long time. She was thinking that no woman could be more blessed than she, more blessed or more pleased. But what were mere thoughts when a man like Gray was her husband? She kissed his neck and whispered, “I say thank you, Gray. Thank you with all my heart for catching me when I stole Durban.”