Now that Dillie and her parents had returned to London, she was eager to catch up with all her sisters. Daisy and her husband, the first to arrive back in town, had invited her to tea, and Dillie looked forward to passing a most pleasant afternoon with both of them. “Where’s Gabriel?”
“He’ll be along soon,” Daisy said with a shrug. “He had to report to the Prince Regent, something about an incident that occurred a few months ago. He won’t tell me what it’s about because he’s afraid I’ll meddle.”
Dillie shook her head and grinned. “Imagine that, accusing a Farthingale of meddling.”
Her sister laughed. “Perhaps we do stick our noses into other people’s business on occasion, but we do it with the best of intentions. Speaking of other people’s business, what have you been up to since I last saw you?”
“Ugh! Absolutely nothing. I’ve been bored to tears.” Dillie twirled Ivy in her arms, and then nuzzled her pudgy cheek, once more inhaling her baby sweetness. Of course, she knew that the light scent of powder and lavender soap would soon give way to the less pleasant odors of burps, spit-ups, and other unmentionable products that routinely emanated from the lower parts of infants. She didn’t care. Children were meant to be loved and fussed over, no matter what came out of them, whether from top or bottom.
She kissed the little angel’s chubby, pink cheek and was rewarded with a heart-tugging smile. Ivy had the look of a Farthingale girl, dark hair and big, blue eyes. Well, right now her hair was more a dark cap of curly fuzz, but she was still young. “Your father’s going to have his hands full chasing the boys away,” she whispered in her niece’s ear.
Ivy burped.
Daisy smiled as she poured a cup of tea for each of them and set a treacle scone on each of their plates. “I think Gabriel will have a few more years before he needs to worry. You’ve caught Ivy on a good day. Usually she’s all squawks and howls at this hour. It’s her nap time, but she seems quite fascinated by you and has forgotten that she’s tired. Watch out for your earrings. She may be little, but she’s fast. Before you know it, she’ll have her fingers wrapped in the loops and tugging until you howl.”
“She’s already pulled out half the pins in my hair.” Dillie nuzzled her niece’s soft neck and got a giggle out of her. “Isn’t that right, you little devil? And what will your Grandmama Sophie say when I return home utterly disheveled?”
Ivy responded with another burp.
Dillie laughed softly and nuzzled her again. Ivy let out a joyful squeal.
“She really likes you, Dillie. She’s rarely content with anyone but me, Gabriel, or Nanny Grenville holding her.”
“And I adore her.” Dillie suddenly felt wistful. Though she loved her family, every last irritating and snoopy member of their boisterous Farthingale clan, she and her sisters had always been especially close. Now, all her sisters were married and starting families of their own. She was the one left behind. She hadn’t really felt the changes until Lily had married Ewan Cameron and settled in Scotland, in the Highlands no less.
She knew Lily was enjoying her life with Ewan, for her happiness was apparent in all of her letters. Would she ever find that same happiness? Dillie wasn’t surprised to be the last to leave the Farthingale roost, for she was the youngest daughter, even though only by a few minutes. She just hadn’t expected Lily to leave so soon.
Now with her twin suddenly gone, she’d had no time to adapt to the inevitable changes and hadn’t quite taken them all in yet. Feeling alone and adrift were new sensations, ones she did not particularly like.
She dismissed her wistful thoughts when Daisy’s husband strode into the parlor. Gabriel headed straight for Daisy and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “Missed you, love,” he said with a wicked grin and devilish arch of an eyebrow.
Dillie rolled her eyes, and then tickled Ivy’s chin to gain her attention. “Your parents have been apart no more than a few hours, but one would think they’d been apart for months. Your father is shamelessly ogling your mother.”
Daisy blushed. “I missed you, too. Behave yourself, Gabriel. We have company.”
He turned to Dillie, walked to her side, and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. Then he gazed down at Ivy, who was cooing in Dillie’s arms, and his expression turned soft and doting. “How’s my little potato doing?”
Dillie grinned. “I hope you’re not referring to me.”
He chuckled. “No, you look great. The winter months at Coniston obviously suited you. John,” he said, referring to her father, “must be in full fret, wondering what surprises this London season will bring. None of your sisters managed a traditional courtship. You’re his last hope.”