All for You (42 page)

S
tephen
de Piaget, Earl of Artane, the former Viscount Haulton, and still-current Baron Etham, stood on the edge of a party in full swing and found himself quite grateful that his hall hadn’t needed the repairs he’d watched Zachary Smith make to Wyckham.

The place was stunning now, what with its second-floor gallery, spectacular Norman arch stretching from one side of the great hall to the other, and authentic-looking tapestries that stretched from floor to ceiling—

He paused and squinted. The tapestries looked like they were moving, but that could have been his imagination. He was, he would be the first to admit, slightly sleep deprived.

That’s what happened when one had a small son who found life too exciting to spend much time asleep.

He looked for his wife and son who were off socializing with souls of various vintages. Mary de Piaget Smith, Countess of Wyckham, had spent the past half hour dancing with her husband, but had now reclaimed her nine-month-old daughter and was talking to one Peaches Alexander de Piaget, Countess of
Artane, who held on to her four-month-old son, the Viscount Haulton and future Earl of Artane.

It was altogether humbling to think that for all he knew, Robin of Artane was standing in the shadows somewhere, watching his daughter talk to the woman who was responsible for providing yet another lad to keep Artane’s legacy close to his heart.

The tapestry moved. Stephen wasn’t altogether certain he hadn’t seen the shadow of two heads peeking out from behind it.

“I have a feeling about something.”

Stephen looked next to him to find Zachary Smith standing there, frowning thoughtfully at the tapestry in question.

“Do you?” he mused. “What sort of feeling?”

“A disquietish, paranormally sort of feeling.”

“I believe I’m experiencing that, as well.”

Zachary looked at him. “Didn’t you tell me that Nicholas’s twins—those would be your nephews by marriage, you know—had just happened to arrive at a particular inn at precisely the right moment to feed you and Peaches in the past?”

Stephen nodded slowly. “They did.”

“And didn’t you find it strange that they left you a bag of gold and something else to interest you?”

“A map,” Stephen said dryly, “which I told you about quite some time ago.”

“Interesting that they knew
when
to find you, don’t you think?”

“Coincidental,” Stephen blustered.

The look Zachary shot him left Stephen pursing his lips.

“Very well,
too
coincidental for comfort. What are you suggesting?”

“That teenagers are trouble.”

“Especially twins.”

“Your wife could attest to that, I’m sure. I try not to imagine what Kendrick faces with those three boys of his.” Zachary shuddered. “Sometimes it keeps me up at night.”

Stephen thought about pointing out that the child who should be worrying Zachary was his own daughter given the character of her extremely independent and fearless mother, but he refrained.

And then he exchanged a brief look with the Earl of Wyckham before they both strode across the dance floor.

Two blond lads bolted for the kitchens.

It took several minutes to corner them, partly because there were two of them and partly because they seemed to have a more than passing familiarity with Wyckham’s inner workings. Stephen looked around the kitchen to find every exit blocked by men in the family including Zachary, Kendrick, Gideon, and Zachary’s father whose eyes were absolutely enormous. Stephen lifted his arm as Peaches ducked under, holding young Robin. She looked at the boys who were standing back-to-back in the middle of the kitchen, swords in their hands.

“Interesting.”

One of the lads looked at Stephen, his mouth fell open, then his sword fell from his fingers.

“’Tis Uncle Robin. And Auntie Persephone—”

“Don’t be an idiot,” the other lad said, elbowing him sharply in the back. “It isn’t, and that isn’t Aunt Pippa, though she looks a bloody sight like her, doesn’t she? I daresay that’s Kendrick over there.” He paused. “He’s looking passing old, don’t you think?”

“I do,” said the other lad, blanching.

His brother backed up a bit harder against him. “I think we did it.”

Kendrick rolled his eyes and strode forward. “Samuel and Theophilus de Piaget, you are a pair of silly arses.”

The lads threw their arms around Kendrick and hugged him. Stephen leaned against the door and put his arm around Peaches as he listened to the boys babble about their trip and wonder when it was they could get pizza and crisps.

Stephen soon found himself being introduced to and carrying on a fairly decent conversation with the two lads who would save his and Peaches’s stomachs, if not their lives, quite some time earlier. Or later, in their future, which was his past. It depended, he supposed, on one’s perspective.

“Your English is very good,” he remarked at one point.

“We’re bilingual,” Theophilus said proudly. “Aren’t we, Sam?”

“We are,” Samuel said, puffing out his chest. “And a bloody dodgy business it was learning all we have.” He looked at Kendrick. “Where’s the fridge?”

Kendrick only pointed to Zachary. “Ask Mary’s husband. Surely you remember him, lads.”

Theophilus and Samuel gulped as one, then inched their way over to Zachary to offer all sorts of deferential, positive chitchat no doubt intended to leave him offering to put them up indefinitely. Stephen exchanged a look with Zachary, then left the kitchen. Things would go how they went, he would invite the boys to Artane and make sure they knew when they were supposed to be buying him lunch in a few years, then he would happily stand with Zachary and give them both the boot back to where they belonged.

It was for damned sure he wasn’t going to let them near his car keys.

He paused on the way to the great hall and looked at his wife, that lovely, loving woman who had thrown herself into her role as Countess of Artane with an energy and enthusiasm that left him slightly exhausted, actually. Or that could have been the runs along the beach she’d dragged him on until she’d realized right after their second wedding that she was pregnant.

Which he suspected had happened right after their first wedding.

If anyone thought it unusual that she had given birth to a full-term baby eight months after their pictures had been in the papers, they’d been too discreet to say anything to her face and too intimidated to mention it to him.

They would tell their son the truth, someday. After all, Stephen couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t find out there was more to Artane than just thick walls that kept the weather and the world at bay.

But until that time, he would be the keeper of its secrets, the defender of its inhabitants, and the man who passed every day of his life profoundly grateful for the woman who had been willing to plot her path alongside his.

He had truly been blessed far beyond what he deserved.