Page 121 of After the Abduction
When the mail came at Charnwood Hall, Juliet squealed to see a letter from Griff. That could mean only one thing—Rosalind’s baby had been born! She devoured her brother-in-law’s sparse description, knowing she’d get a better one from Rosalind later. When she finished, she sighed happily and rubbed her swelling belly, then hurried out of the house toward the west lawn.
Neither Sebastian nor Morgan saw her make her slow way to where they stood facing a pair of painted targets. They were too busy examining the new pistol Sebastian had designed for Morgan. Once again, Morgan had lost a pistol—this time when he’d been in Cornwall tracking down a highwayman on behalf of some nobleman. Morgan lived for trouble, she would swear. It worried Sebastian enormously, for though he’d given up control, he hadn’t quite given up feeling responsible for his brother.
Which made her love him all the more.
As she approached them, she noticed another pistol lying on the table. Quickly, she lifted it, checked to be sure it was loaded, then fired at the target. They both jumped.
As the smoke cleared, Sebastian turned and snatched the pistol from her. “Think of the baby, my love! What if the pistol had misfired?”
“I have yet to see any pistol of your design misfire,” she said impishly. “Besides, I wanted to know if I could still do it.”
Morgan eyed the target. “Not bad for an amateur.”
She beamed at him, then handed Griff’s letter to her husband. “Rosalind’s had her baby. A little girl. They’ve named her Winifred.”
“Winnie will be pleased.” He scanned the letter quickly. “Though I hope that helping women conceive is Winnie’s only talent. Because if she can predict the future, too, then we’ve got five more children on the way, sweeting.”
Juliet laughed. She’d forgotten what Winnie had said about his lordship’s “six wee ones.” “I wouldn’t mind so much.” She reached up to smooth his wind-ruffled hair. “I rather like the idea of a lot of little Blakelys running about Charnwood Hall.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Smearing jam on your embroidery and tracking mud on the carpets?”
“I can manage all of that,” she retorted.
“Yes, I’ve no doubt that you can,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her.
Morgan cleared his throat. “Must you two always be so sickeningly in love?”
She laughed at him. “You should try it, Morgan. It’s less dangerous than running off to get yourself killed at every opportunity.”
“Do you worry about me, cherie?” Morgan teased.
“Here now, don’t you use that French with my wife, you rascal,” Sebastian warned mockingly. “I know the effect it has on females.”
“Not me,” Juliet protested. “I’m quite immune.”
Morgan stepped closer to whisper, “I dare say if I’d got to you first, cherie, matters would be entirely different.”
She shoved him away playfully. “Not at all, I assure you.”
He shot Sebastian a devilish look. “You’re lucky I didn’t arrive in England sooner last year, mon frere. Your Juliet would have fallen for the real Morgan Pryce, and you’d have been left without the girl and only this dreary old manor for companionship.”
She shook her head. “I would have known the difference at once.”
“She would have,” Sebastian agreed. “I tried to tell her over and over that I wasn’t her kidnapper, but she didn’t believe a word of it, no matter what I did or said.”
“Of course not. She didn’t have me for comparison.” Morgan drew himself up stoutly. “And I don’t sound quite like you or dress like you. But I’ll wager that if we dressed alike and came before your pretty wife without speaking, she wouldn’t know us apart.”
Juliet crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll take that wager, sir. I could pick Sebastian out in a crowd of Morgans.”
“You think so, do you?” Morgan cocked his head in that same way his brother had. “Very well. What would be the terms of this wager?”
She thought a moment, then grinned. “If I pick out Sebastian, then you have to stay in England and out of trouble for one year. No adventures. No running after highwaymen. Just a nice, normal life in London or Shropshire or wherever you prefer.”
He scowled. “Hard terms indeed. And if you don’t pick him out?”
“Then Sebastian will finance one grand adventure for you in any country you wish. You can go to India and ride elephants. Break your neck, if you like.”
“Now see here,” Sebastian protested, “this wasn’t my idea. Why should I suffer the consequences? A trip to India…why, that would cost me a pretty penny—”
