Skylark Read Free

circumstances she would have suggested it herself.
    Laura climbed the stairs, praying that all went well with Jack’s wife. She had offered to attend the birth, but Emma had pleasantly refused. Remembering her own confinement, Laura hadn’t been surprised. She and Emma were always cordial but they were too different to be close. At such a time, a woman wanted harmonious companions.
    She knew Emma longed for a son as much as Jack did, but as she entered the nursery and passed the sleeping child to Nan, Laura prayed that this child be another girl. If there was anything to her suspicions, then Jack having a son could be disastrous.
    That prayer wasn’t answered. When she went downstairs for dinner, she found Jack with her father-in-law, and both men were beaming.
    Jack pressed a glass of claret into her hand, and Lord Caldfort raised his. “A toast, m’dear! To Henry Jack Gardeyne!”
    Laura froze, glass at her lips. It was family tradition to call first sons Henry, but it was as if a replacement for her Harry was being prepared.
    Jack smiled at her. “If you don’t object, Laura, we mean to call him Hal.”
    “Of course not,” she said, and found a smile. “Congratulations.”
    She was about to ask about Emma when Lady Caldfort wandered in, thin and vague as usual. She stared when given the news, as if she’d forgotten that her daughter-in-law was confined, then said, “How convenient. An heir in case the other one dies.”
    Even the two men seemed taken aback at this blunt statement of fact, but they were all accustomed to Lady Caldfort’s ways. She tended to say exactly the words that others were too discreet to let out.
    Laura wished she’d been watching Jack. She might have learned something from his reaction.
    Lady Caldfort was a cold, angular woman who had little interest in other people and no facility for dealing with them. Apparently Major John Gardeyne, as Lord Caldfort had been then, had married her for her money.
    Her only interest in life seemed to be insects, which she collected and arranged in display boxes. That wasn’t unusual, but Lady Caldfort kept the boxes stacked in a spare room, never on display. Laura worried that one day her mother-in-law would become completely insane—and that she’d have to take care of her.
    “Isn’t it time to eat?” Lady Caldfort said, and headed for the dining room, even though the meal hadn’t been announced. With a shared look, Laura and the two men followed.
    As soon as they were seated, Lord Caldfort and Jack began a discussion of estate matters. As Harry’s mother, Laura had an interest in his future property, but that was a battle not worth the powder at this point. She listened, as she always did, gathering knowledge. Eventually their talk turned to sporting details, and she looked away.
    Lady Caldfort was frowning at the nearest candle. She might be angry because the food wasn’t in front of her, but she could as easily be pondering some problem of entomology. Laura knew that an attempt to start conversation there was hopeless. She was a veteran of hundreds of dinners exactly like this, except that if Jack was not here, there was often no conversation at all. Even so, she was expected to attend.
    How many such dinners?
    Eleven months since Hal died. That would be about 330.
    Since Harry’s birth, she’d spent at least half the year here, because both Hal and his father had objected to her taking him away much, and she liked being with her son. She’d enjoyed visits to London, Brighton, and other fashionable spots, but happily sacrificed time at hunting house parties.
    Hal had probably been here with her about half the time—a quarter of the year. Sitting opposite her. Looking at her with that look in his eyes that said he was already thinking of an early retreat to their bedchamber and his other favorite sport.
    At thought of that sport, her body clenched like a hungry stomach. She pulled her mind back from those lost pleasures.
    Calculations.