The Duke I'm Going to Marry(99)

Miss Poole appeared to have no objection to his plan, not that she had any right to countermand him. Still, it eased his concern to see her so comfortable in his presence, for it boded well for Felicity’s care. He’d hired the woman because she appeared efficient, and warm and engaging as well. She had come highly recommended, had sterling references, and even so, Ian had worried that he was doing the wrong thing in leaving Felicity in a stranger’s care. It seemed he had fretted needlessly.

Eager to see Felicity, he climbed the stairs and walked into the nursery, taking extra care to be quiet. The room was sparse, but charming. A white armoire decorated with yellow roses stood in one corner, and a white high chair also decorated with yellow roses stood in the corner nearest the window. White lace curtains billowed at the corners of the window. A small carpet in hues of dark red, azure blue, and golden amber covered the dark wood floor beside Felicity’s crib.

Ian’s heart caught in his throat as he peered into the crib and saw the sleeping infant. Her angelic face was pink and smooth, and her little lips were puckered and moving as though she were suckling on a nipple. “My favorite dream, too,” he said in a whisper, thinking of Dillie and her glorious breasts. “Most men never outgrow that dream.”

Felicity had the good sense not to respond to his wayward remark.

Ian continued to study her. She was dressed in a clean, white gown decorated with pink ribbons, and lay sprawled on her back with arms raised above her shoulders, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. This is what he’d wanted, had hoped for. He let out a breath, relieved he had managed to get this one thing right.

Miss Poole bustled into the room carrying a bowl of what looked like mashed fruit. She set the bowl down on a table beside the high chair, and then tiptoed toward him. “She’s an angel, isn’t she?”

Ian nodded.

Felicity let out a little squawk. Then another.

Miss Poole winced. “Oh, goodness. Here it comes,” she warned, just as Felicity let out an ear-splitting wail and burst into anguished tears. “Hush, Your Highness! Is this any way to greet your uncle?” She lifted the crying child into her arms and gently rocked her until she calmed. “Well, at least her bottom’s dry. Won’t be for long though, will it Your Highness?”

Felicity fisted her little hands and rubbed them along her dripping nose. Miss Poole laughed. “We’d better clean that little nose before you eat. The hands too. Now, where is that wet cloth I always keep close?”

“I’ll hold her while you look for it. I’ve been riding through rain and mud for most of these past few days. She can’t do my clothes much more harm.”

She appeared surprised, but pleased. “As you wish, Your Grace. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A feeling of contentment washed over Ian as he held his young ward. He planted a kiss on her head, his lips gentle against her soft, dark curls. Indeed, he’d gotten this part right. Dillie would approve, of that he had no doubt.

A short while later, once Felicity’s attention was firmly fixed on her food and no longer on him, he strode out of the room and made his way about the lodge to inspect the general improvements. He was pleased with the results. Sturdy new windows, solid wood floors in good repair, hearths and chimneys also in good repair. Carpets cleaned and new furniture in place so that the lodge had been transformed from a rough and tumble bachelor’s hunting retreat to a home suited to accommodate a family.

Ian remained the following day at Swineshead as well, deciding to spend a little extra time with Felicity and make certain that Quinn’s friends, who had arrived last night, were familiar with the grounds and what was expected of them concerning Felicity’s protection. His instincts told him there was no danger, that neither his family—nor the wharf rats they’d hired to do him in—would show up on his doorstep to abduct Felicity.

Likely, there had only been those four assailants, all of whom were now securely in the magistrate’s hands. So why was he lingering here, making excuses to avoid returning to Dillie? He wasn’t certain and could come up with no good reason. He knew he had to marry her. He truly wished to marry her. The sooner the ceremony took place, the better.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he muttered to himself, suddenly understanding his reluctance. He’d been alone all of his life. Detested by his family. He wasn’t yet in control of his anger. What if he unleashed his barely leashed rage on those he cared for most? He wanted to be a good husband to Dillie, but wasn’t certain he knew how.

He’d just entered the stable and approached Prometheus’ stall looking for Quinn when the feisty Irishman hurried in behind him looking quite perturbed. “Yer Grace! There’s a carriage rattling up the drive. It could be them unwanted visitors.”