shake his hand.
The congratulations continued, and a lot more hugging and backslapping. James finally tried to break away to go up and see his wife, but Regina assured him there was no hurry, that Georgina had promptly gone to sleep the moment her work was done, and Charlotte and the doctor were seeing to the baby.
Roslynn finally appeared, tired but smiling, moving straight into her husband’s arms as she told her brother-in-law, “She’s just beautiful, James, a Malory without a doubt. You can be assured this one won’t look like Tony.” Which told half the room at least that the newest Malory was going to have blond hair.
James, by now, was back to himself and replied, “Too bad. I was looking forward to teasing George about that.”
“And giving her another reason not to welcome me into her house?” Anthony groused.
“She won’t need any reasons I give her, dear boy. You manage quite enough on your own.”
“He’s warming up, Ros,” Anthony complained good-naturedly to his wife. “I think it’s time for us to go home.”
But Charlotte arrived just then, holding a wrapped bundle that she crossed the room to place in James’s arms. Silence followed, but James certainly didn’t notice as he stared at his daughter for the first time. And you never saw such a look on a man’s face, well, mostof the men in the room never had, a look so overflowing with love it was humbling.
The baby was closely related to every single person in the room, and they all gathered around her, the proud father quite willing to share her for the moment.
It was Anthony, remembering a conversation he’d recently had with his brother, who finally asked James, “And what, pray tell, are you going to name this little jewel?”
He thought he was forcing James to back down from one of his more perverse threats, but James stared at him for a moment, then looked toward the Andersons in the room and said quite clearly, “Jack.”
Of course, a great many protests rose up immediately, some quite outraged. But James weathered it all, standing firm, and finally said, “Kindly remember whose daughter she is, and who has the right to name her.”
That, of course, settled it. The newest Malory, daughter though she was, was going to be named Jack Malory, though her baptismal records would record her name as Jacqueline—as long as her Anderson uncles weren’t present for it—and only her father was going to fondly call her Jack—if her mother had anything to say about it.
Chapter 7
“Just where did you disappear to last night, Jeremy?”
Amy asked the question as her cousin joined her in the breakfast room. Breakfast was being served, despite its being two in the afternoon, only because no one had bothered to get up any earlier, and this was what Amy had requested when she’d finally crawled out of bed herself.
“Didn’t think to see you here again so soon,” Jeremy remarked, avoiding her question.
“I didn’t leave, actually,” she said as she started to pour him a cup of coffee, but paused to ask, “Would you prefer tea?”
“Whatever you’ve got there is fine. I ain’t particular, and what d’you mean, you didn’tleave? You’re saying you ain’t been to bed yet?”
Since she was wearing a different dress from the one she’d had on when he’d seen her last night, this one a peach organdy, and she looked as fresh as the fruit of that same color, his confusion was understandable.
“I promised Aunt George that I would stay over and see to the house while she recuperates. What with your housekeeper up and quitting last month, and the one who replaced her not working out and getting sacked last week, someone has to see to things. Or were you going to volunteer?”
He snorted. “Not bloody likely. But ain’t you a bit young—”
“When most girls my age are thrown onto the marriage mart, fully trained to manage their own households, do you think that I, out of all of them, can’t handle it?”
Since her
The congratulations continued, and a lot more hugging and backslapping. James finally tried to break away to go up and see his wife, but Regina assured him there was no hurry, that Georgina had promptly gone to sleep the moment her work was done, and Charlotte and the doctor were seeing to the baby.
Roslynn finally appeared, tired but smiling, moving straight into her husband’s arms as she told her brother-in-law, “She’s just beautiful, James, a Malory without a doubt. You can be assured this one won’t look like Tony.” Which told half the room at least that the newest Malory was going to have blond hair.
James, by now, was back to himself and replied, “Too bad. I was looking forward to teasing George about that.”
“And giving her another reason not to welcome me into her house?” Anthony groused.
“She won’t need any reasons I give her, dear boy. You manage quite enough on your own.”
“He’s warming up, Ros,” Anthony complained good-naturedly to his wife. “I think it’s time for us to go home.”
But Charlotte arrived just then, holding a wrapped bundle that she crossed the room to place in James’s arms. Silence followed, but James certainly didn’t notice as he stared at his daughter for the first time. And you never saw such a look on a man’s face, well, mostof the men in the room never had, a look so overflowing with love it was humbling.
The baby was closely related to every single person in the room, and they all gathered around her, the proud father quite willing to share her for the moment.
It was Anthony, remembering a conversation he’d recently had with his brother, who finally asked James, “And what, pray tell, are you going to name this little jewel?”
He thought he was forcing James to back down from one of his more perverse threats, but James stared at him for a moment, then looked toward the Andersons in the room and said quite clearly, “Jack.”
Of course, a great many protests rose up immediately, some quite outraged. But James weathered it all, standing firm, and finally said, “Kindly remember whose daughter she is, and who has the right to name her.”
That, of course, settled it. The newest Malory, daughter though she was, was going to be named Jack Malory, though her baptismal records would record her name as Jacqueline—as long as her Anderson uncles weren’t present for it—and only her father was going to fondly call her Jack—if her mother had anything to say about it.
Chapter 7
“Just where did you disappear to last night, Jeremy?”
Amy asked the question as her cousin joined her in the breakfast room. Breakfast was being served, despite its being two in the afternoon, only because no one had bothered to get up any earlier, and this was what Amy had requested when she’d finally crawled out of bed herself.
“Didn’t think to see you here again so soon,” Jeremy remarked, avoiding her question.
“I didn’t leave, actually,” she said as she started to pour him a cup of coffee, but paused to ask, “Would you prefer tea?”
“Whatever you’ve got there is fine. I ain’t particular, and what d’you mean, you didn’tleave? You’re saying you ain’t been to bed yet?”
Since she was wearing a different dress from the one she’d had on when he’d seen her last night, this one a peach organdy, and she looked as fresh as the fruit of that same color, his confusion was understandable.
“I promised Aunt George that I would stay over and see to the house while she recuperates. What with your housekeeper up and quitting last month, and the one who replaced her not working out and getting sacked last week, someone has to see to things. Or were you going to volunteer?”
He snorted. “Not bloody likely. But ain’t you a bit young—”
“When most girls my age are thrown onto the marriage mart, fully trained to manage their own households, do you think that I, out of all of them, can’t handle it?”
Since her
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