Bride Who Fell in Love with Her Husband by Cheryl Ann Smith Page A

comfort.”
    He nodded to a passing couple. “Father was a hard man. He never showed interest or affection toward Mother, or to my siblings and me. Now he doesn’t recognize us anymore. When we do visit, our presence seems to agitate him further, so we seldom make the journey.”
    Rose squeezed his arm. She watched Byron and Priscilla enjoy each other’s company and dropped the maudlin topic.
    They talked and walked, keeping pace with the others, yet maintaining enough distance for them to talk privately.
    â€œI think we should start a family,” Thomas said abruptly. “If we are to have ten children, we need to move along before I am too old to father them all.”
    Rose stumbled to a halt, her eyes wide. “Ten children? Please tell me you are jesting.”
    He shrugged. “Unless you’d prefer twelve. A full dozen would be nice. Six girls and six boys. Excellent idea, love.”
    She placed a hand over her heart. “If you think I will bear that many children, husband, you need to rethink that decision.” She scowled. “Or find yourself another wife.”
    Thomas’s laughter stopped Byron and Priscilla on the path. He took Rose’s hand and kissed her gloved knuckles. “I am teasing you, dearest. A dozen children would exhaust you.” He held her gaze. “I want you awake in our bed.”
    Cheeks burning, she glanced around. “Someone might hear.”
    â€œLet them.” He tucked her hand under his arm. “All women should have such a devoted husband.”
    Sighing, Rose shook her head and looked at him sidelong. She could not fault his argument. He was devoted and she was very lucky to have found him.
    â€œFour children.” she said with a second sigh. “Perhaps five, but no more. You must satisfy yourself with five.”
    Amused, Thomas nodded. “Five it is.”
    Time passed by as they strolled along the Serpentine and enjoyed the pretty park. After two hours, Thomas indicated an end to the visit and led them toward the carriage.
    â€œThis was lovely,” Priscilla said as Byron kissed her hand before helping her into the coach. She settled on the seat, affection clear in her eyes as she looked at him.
    â€œMay I call on you again?” Byron asked.
    â€œYou may,” Priscilla replied happily. “Soon.”
    Thomas snorted and settled Rose on the seat. He frowned as Byron bowed over Rose’s hand, nodded to him, and walked off, whistling an unrecognizable tune.
    â€œOh, brother dear, must you scowl?” Priscilla scolded. “Byron has been entirely proper. Why shouldn’t he visit?”
    â€œWhy indeed?” Rose pressed her husband. “The poor man knows your mother and still chooses to court your sister. You should be pleased.”
    He walked around the carriage. “As head of this family in Father’s stead and Fredrick’s absence, I am the one he should be asking when he can call. He presumes much.”
    â€œDo not be so stuffy,” Rose said. “If Byron wants to spirit Priscilla off to Gretna Green tomorrow, I shall gladly help her pack her trunk.”
    Priscilla giggled and Thomas looked up to encompass them both with a glare. “You two will be the death of my sanity.”
    â€œHello, Stanhope.” The call stopped further argument. Thomas spun around. Rose saw a tall man approach, limping slightly and leaning on his cane. “I thought that was you. It’s been weeks.”
    Thomas smiled, though the effort appeared forced. Rose stared, curious about the stranger.
    â€œWilkinson. I see you have yet to recover from your fall,” Thomas said. “You might want to try a less enthusiastic nag for your illegal races down Rotten Row.”
    The man laughed. “There was a time when you would have joined me in a lively race.” He tipped his head up and looked at Rose. “Though from what I hear, you now have something more interesting to