"And now," Verity said, pride in her voice as she gazed adoringly at the babe in her arms, "I should like to present to you the Viscount Duckworth."
Adam refrained from the urge to call the heir Duckie—the name his father bore back at Eton.
Emma rushed to nearly smash her face into the babe's. "What perfection! Pray, don't be offended if I say he's beautiful."
Verity's lashes lowered, and she spoke softly. "I think so, too. And so does Randy."
"Please," Emma said, "may I hold him?"
Verity smiled and handed him over. "Of course."
Adam wouldn't have wanted to hold anything that tiny. How in the devil did Agar father such a small little thing?
"Oh look, my dearest," Emma said to him, "how precious he is!"
He came to stand beside his wife, and he was nearly overwhelmed with tender feelings. For a brief second, he wished Emma were holding his son, wished theirs was the loving family that Agar's and Verity's was.
It was difficult to tell if the babe looked like the Agars or the Birminghams. His hair—what little there was of it—was decidedly dark like Verity's. He couldn't tell what color the little fellow's eyes were because he continued to sleep, even with all the noise that surrounded him.
"I don't think little Duckworth looks like anyone in either family," he declared.
Verity let out a little laugh. "You are unaccustomed to babes. He does possess the Agar nose, and we're told he will have the Birmingham height."
Adam's mouth formed an o. "But he's so short!"
Both Emma and Verity laughed.
"He's only a month old!" Emma said.
How comfortable Emma looked with a babe in her arms. A natural mother. He could never again think of her as a girl. His chest constricted.
"He is fine lad, is me first grandson."
Adam whirled around to face his mother. To his surprise, she clutched the hand of Nick's little natural daughter, Emmie. He'd never before heard his mother boast. Being a grandmother must have mellowed the stern woman. He kissed her on the cheek. "Mother, I should like you to meet my wife, Emma."
His mother's gaze swept over her, and she nodded approvingly. He wished she would have said something to her newest daughter-in-law, but his mother lacked social graces.
Emma was not be deterred. "It is such a longed-for pleasure to meet the woman who raised three such fine sons. You must be the best mother in all of England—for Adam is certainly the best man I've ever known."
Of course, his sheltered wife knew few men. He almost erupted into laughter over Emma's frequent use of hyperbole. He supposed it was one of the things that had endeared her to him. Each day for her was always the best ever. Would that she could make such a statement for the rest of her days.
At the idea that they'd be together for the rest of their days, something inside him glowed.
"Methinks Adam's new wife is prone to exaggeration," his mother said to Emma. His insides sank. Was Mama going to chide his well-meaning wife? Then she continued. "But it's kind of you to say those things." She held out her arms. "May I hold my little anglel?"
Emma handed over Verity's babe. Little Emmie stood on her tiptoes to stroke little Randolph's hair.
Did his mother ever refer to her own children as little angels? Never. What the devil had come over her?
Emma was eyeing Nick's child. "This must be Emmie! I have so wanted to meet the little girl who shares my name."
The child looked up and met Emma's affectionate gaze, and shy smile eased across her little face. "You're Emmie, too?"
Emma dropped to her knees. "Not exactly. I'm Emma. No one ever called me Emmie, though I would have loved it. That's the kind of name given by someone who loves a child very much."
"My papa's the one who called me that."
Nick was besotted over the child—as the child was besotted over her father. Lady Fiona had won the admiration of everyone in their family with her deep affection for Nick's natural daughter. Lady Fiona had been the first member of the nobility to earn Adam's complete admiration. Then her brother's devotion to Verity convinced him that not all aristocrats were insensitive elitists. Lady Sophia, too, was a great favorite with every member of the Birmingham family.
"And how do you like your Aunt Verity's babe?"
"I love him very much. Auntie allowed me to hold him—as long as I was sitting down."
"Come, little poppet, and I'll let ye hold him again," her grandmother said. Glancing up at Emma, she said, "'Tis been a pleasure to meet you, Emma."