The Magic of You (3 page)

“He? I thought you wanted a girl.”

He snorted. “Changed my mind after tonight. I’ll leave the worrying over daughters to Tony and Eddie boy.”

Georgina smiled, knowing her husband so well she knew exactly what was on his mind. “Amy
was
exceptionally lovely tonight, wasn’t she?”

He didn’t answer that, but said instead, “What I want to know is, how the deuce did I miss it, when she’s been over here lately more’n she is at home?”

“You didn’t miss how lovely she is; you just missed how
lovely
she is,” Georgina said with meaning. “As her uncle, you weren’t supposed to notice that she’d filled out in all the right places, especially when Charlotte has had her wrapped up in those girlish, high-necked dresses right to the bitter end.”

His green eyes widened on another thought. “Good God, you don’t think Jeremy’s noticed,
d’you, and that’s why he’s been so agreeable about escorting her about?”

Georgina burst out laughing, tried to swat him, but couldn’t quite reach him over the mound of her belly. “You’re impossible, James. Why do you keep attributing these lecherous inclinations to that sweet boy? He’s only eighteen, for God’s sake.”

Up went the single golden brow, an affectation of his that she used to hate, but now was so endearing to her. “Sweet?” he said. “
My
son? And eighteen going on thirty is what that scamp is.”

She would allow that Jeremy looked older than his age since he had gained his uncle Tony’s height, which put him a few inches taller than his father, and James’s broadness of chest, which made him quite formidable compared with other young men his age. But she wasn’t going to mention that to his father, who was plumped-up proud enough about the boy.

“Well, you needn’t worry about Jeremy and Amy. I happen to know they’ve become the best of friends. But then, they’re of an age, you know. She’ll be eighteen herself in a few weeks. I’m just surprised that Charlotte didn’t make her wait those extra few weeks before her official come-out.”

“That would have been Eddie boy’s doing. He’s a soft touch where his girls are concerned, which, come to think of it, isn’t what Amy needs right now.”

Georgina did a little brow raising herself. “Are you going to take a personal interest in this niece, too?”

“Not bloody likely,” he replied in one of his drier tones. “Boys are my specialty, don’t you know, and I’m going to be enjoying my newest son too much to be worrying about Eddie’s youngest daughter.”

Georgina doubted that, for she’d heard how seriously he’d taken the raising of Reggie, that when denied his fair share of time with her during his pirating days, he’d up and kidnapped the girl for several months on the high seas, which had got him disowned by his brothers for a number of years. But Reggie was the favorite niece, due to her being more like a daughter to them all, so maybe James and Anthony
would
leave Amy to her own father’s care and worry, since Edward had managed just fine with his other four children…Not bloody likely.

“Now that you’ve changed your mind about having a daughter, what if we have one anyway?”

He placed a kiss in the center of her belly and grinned up at her, though his tone was as droll as it could get. “I will endeavor to persevere, George. Depend upon it.”

She’d spend a great deal of time in bed while he endeavored to get it right the second time around,
that
she could depend upon.

Chapter 3

Just one block north of Berkeley Square, Amy Malory was finally preparing for bed. In the mirror at her vanity, where she sat brushing out her long black hair, she watched her mother, Charlotte, flit about the room, helping old Agnes put away Amy’s finery, clucking over a rent stocking, a scuffed shoe, the smudged pink evening gloves.

She’d been meaning to talk to her father about getting her own maid. Both her older sisters, Clare and Diana, had had their own, and had taken them with them when they left home to live with their new husbands. But Amy had always had to share someone else’s maid, and just now the only one left was old Agnes, who’d
been with Charlotte since she was a child. Amy wanted someone who wasn’t so set in her ways, who didn’t do as much scolding and bossing as she did maiding. It was high time and…and Amy couldn’t believe she was thinking about trifles when she’d just had the most exciting day of her life.

Actually, there had been one other day even more exciting, a day she was never going to forget, a day she’d recalled again and again these past six months since it had occurred. It was the day she’d met Georgina Malory’s brothers and made the auspicious decision, quite shamelessly, to marry one of them. Nor had she changed her mind in the months since. She just hadn’t been able to figure out how she was going to accomplish her goal when the man she wanted had sailed back to America and she hadn’t seen him again.

It was ironic that what had made today most special for her, aside from the fact that she’d been waiting forever for this chance to join the adult world—and her come-out had been a resounding success—was overhearing Aunt George and Uncle James discussing, or more to the point, arguing about, the letter informing them that all five of her aunt’s brothers were returning to England for the birth of her first child. News like that had truly put the cream on the top of Amy’s day.

He was coming back.

She’d have her chance this time to dazzle him with her wit and charm, to make him notice her, because he certainly hadn’t noticed her the first time around. He likely didn’t even remember meeting her that one time, but why should he? She’d been tongue-tied and bowled over by what he’d made her feel, so she certainly hadn’t been at her most vivacious.

The fact was that Amy had matured a number of years ago in both body and mind, so this waiting to be taken seriously by the adults in her world had been pure frustration for her, and patience was not one of her virtues. She could be quite bold when she chose, and mischievously direct. She wasn’t the least bit shy or coy, as she was supposed to be. And she was protective of her family, at least, by keeping her shamelessly daring nature more or less to herself so she wouldn’t disappoint them with her brazenness. Brazen behavior was well and fine for the rakes in the family—and the Malorys had more than their fair share of those—but quite unsuitable for the females. Jeremy had begun to suspect, but then, she was inordinately fond of that particular cousin of hers, and since they had become such close friends, she didn’t always conceal her true nature from him.

She wasn’t going to conceal her nature from Aunt George’s brother either, not this time around. If anything, she was going to be her boldest where he was concerned—if she didn’t
get all tongue-tied because of those disturbing feelings again—because of the time element involved. He wasn’t coming back to England to stay, merely to visit, so she wouldn’t have ample opportunity to work her wiles on him; she’d have very little time a’tall, and from what she’d learned about him, she’d need every single minute of it.

Finding out about her future husband—Amy was nothing if not confident that he
would
be her husband—had been a simple matter of becoming chummy with her aunt George, who was only four years her senior. She had begun visiting Georgina when she and Uncle James were still residing with Uncle Tony on Piccadilly. Then, when it was time to start furnishing their new house in Berkeley Square, Amy had volunteered to help with that as well. And with each visit she would subtly steer the conversation around to Georgina’s brothers so Georgina would talk about them without Amy having to ask any direct questions.

She hadn’t wanted her personal interest known, hadn’t wanted to be told she was too young for the man for whom she’d set her cap. She might have been too young then, but she wasn’t now. And Georgina, missing her brothers as she did, had been delighted to talk about them, relating childhood incidents and the pranks they’d all played on her, as well as some of the adventures and misadventures they had been involved in since reaching manhood.

Amy had learned that Boyd was the youngest brother at twenty-seven and as serious as an old man. Drew, at twenty-eight, was a devil-may-care rogue and the charmer of the family. Thomas was thirty-two now and had the patience of a saint. Nothing ever ruffled his feathers, not even Uncle James, who’d given it his best shot. Warren, just turned thirty-six, was the arrogant one, and the cynic of the family. A brooder, Georgina called him, and a cad where women were concerned. And Clinton, the head of the Anderson family at forty-one, was a stern, no-nonsense sort of fellow who sounded very much like Jason Malory, who was both head of the Malory clan and the third Marquis of Haverston. In fact, those two had hit it off surprisingly well when they’d met, obviously having much in common with so many younger brothers to keep on the straight and narrow.

Amy had been depressed for a while after finding out that, of the five handsome Andersons, and they were all quite exceptional in looks, the one she’d picked was actually the least suitable for her. But then, she hadn’t actually picked him. The feelings that he’d stirred in her were what had done it, telling her without the least doubt that he was the one for her. It wasn’t as if any of the other brothers had made her feel that way, or any other man for that matter, not even tonight, when she’d had the cream of society’s young eligibles clamoring for her notice. And to hear her
aunts George and Roslynn reminisce about what they’d felt upon first meeting their husbands, Amy knew what those feelings meant.

There was no help for it, none a’tall. And she was optimistic enough, and certainly confident enough, particularly after her smashing success tonight, to feel that she would have no problems…well, just a few—actually, a great many—but they’d all be overcome as long as she had access to the man, and now she would.

“There, now,” her mother said as she came up behind Amy to take over the brushing of her hair. “You must be exhausted, and no wonder. I believe you danced every dance.”

It would be dawn in another hour, but Amy wasn’t tired. She was still too wound up with excitement to be able to sleep. But Charlotte would stay and chat for hours if she confessed that, so she nodded, wanting a little time to herself before exhaustion did take over.

“Knew she’d be a success,” Agnes huffed over by the wardrobe, her gray head bobbing up and down. “Knew she’d put your older girls to shame, Lotte. It’s a good thing you got them married off before this one come out. Didn’t I tell you so?”

Agnes didn’t boss just Amy around. Charlotte got her fair share also, but never complained or thought to put the servant in her place. Her freckles were faded, she was plump
as a cherub, and her fingers weren’t so nimble anymore, but Agnes had been around for so long she was like family now, and that was that.

Amy sighed to herself. It was fine and well to think of replacing Agnes with her very own maid, but she knew she’d never do it, not when it would hurt the old girl’s feelings.

Charlotte was frowning slightly over Agnes’s remarks as she met Amy’s eyes in the mirror. She was still a fine-looking woman at forty-one, her brown hair untouched by gray, her brown eyes bequeathed to all her children except Amy, who, like Anthony, Reggie, and Jeremy, had the black hair and cobalt-blue eyes of an exotic slant that had been passed down by her great-grandmother on the Malory side, who was rumored to have been a Gypsy. Uncle Jason had told her once in confidence that it wasn’t a rumor but was perfectly true. She wasn’t certain whether he’d been teasing her or not.

“I suppose your sisters
might
have been a little envious tonight,” Charlotte said, “particularly Clare.”

“Clare is too happy with her Walter to remember that it took her two years to find him.” And her finickiness, or patience, as it were, had paid off, since Walter was in line for a very hefty title. “What has she to be envious about when she’s going to be a duchess, Mother?”

Charlotte grinned. “A good point.”

“And although I didn’t get to
witness
it firsthand—” Amy still resented that they’d made her wait until she was almost eighteen, when Diana had been allowed to come out at only seventeen and a half—“I did hear that Diana had quite as many young men fawning over her as I did. She just happened to fall in love with the first one who came knocking at the door afterward.”

“Perfectly true.” Charlotte sighed. “Which reminds me that we’ll more than likely be bombarded tomorrow, or rather today, with all those young hopefuls you dazzled at the ball. You really must get some sleep, or you won’t last through teatime.”

Amy chuckled. “Oh, I’ll last, Mother. I’m going to enjoy every minute of the courting ritual, right up until the man I want snatches me up.”

“How vulgarly put,” Charlotte clucked. “Snatches you up, indeed. You’re beginning to sound like James’s boy.”

“Well, hell’s bells, d’you think so?”

Her mother laughed. “Now, stop that. And don’t let your father hear you mimicking Jeremy, or he’ll have words with his brother about it, and James Malory does not take well to ridicule, suggestions,
or
good-natured advice. I swear, to this day I still find it hard to believe that those two are brothers, they’re so dissimilar.”

“Father isn’t like
any
of his brothers, but I for one like him just the way he is.”

“Of course, you
would
,” Charlotte retorted, “as indulgent as he is with you.”

“Not always indulgent, or I wouldn’t have had to wait—”

The rest of the words squeezed out of her as Charlotte bent over and hugged her tight. “That was my doing, sweetheart, and don’t begrudge me wanting to hold onto my baby a little while longer. You’ve all grown up so fast. You’re the last, but after tonight’s success, I know you’ll be ‘snatched’ up in no time a’tall by some fine young man. I want that, ’course I do, but not as quickly as it’s bound to happen. I’m afraid I’m going to miss you the most when you leave home to marry. Now get some sleep.”

The abrupt end of her mother’s confession startled Amy, until she realized Charlotte was close to tears, and that was why she hurried out, dragging Agnes with her. Amy sighed, aware of twin feelings of both hopefulness and dread that her mother’s words were prophetic. Charlotte was likely to miss her the most if Amy’s goal was fulfilled, since she would be moving to America, putting a whole ocean between her and her family, to be with the man of her choice. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized that it would have to be that way.