Resting on her haunches, she arched her back and then perused her garden. She had not been raised for this life, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world.
She would not.
Because neither had she expected that she would marry a man like Arthur, one who loved her so passionately.
If only he’d purchased the seeds when she asked, they could have planted sooner.
She grimaced and then smiled to herself. In one particular instance, she and Arthur had managed to plant early enough. Her hand automatically settled on her swollen belly. Very early.
Too early.
She had not been able to smile about it when she’d first missed her course. In fact, she’d been horrified.
She’d met Arthur at the first ball of the season, along with several other members of his regiment, when luck had shone down on London allowing an abundance of eligible young officers to attend the Season’s affairs.
Gentlemen wearing colors were simply irresistible and more than one young lady fell into a fit of vapors upon an unexpected introduction or request to dance. These bachelors had embodied all that was courageous, brave, and honorable, making attempts to resist them futile.
More than one respectable debutante had emerged from the season… ruined.
And Naomi, even at the ripe age of twenty-four, had been just as susceptible as the younger ladies coming out.
Arthur had gained an introduction immediately upon spying her at the Willoughby Ball and he began to court her in earnest after only a few weeks. Despite her parents’ disapproval and rumors of his roguish reputation, she’d been unable to resist.
Even now, her situation was by no means ideal. Despite her marriage, she’d lost the support of her family and many of her friends. Two weeks after Naomi informed Arthur of her—their—predicament, he’d stolen her away to Gretna Green in the middle of the night. The journey had been harrowing but also exciting and adventurous. After a rushed ceremony at the anvil, Arthur had brought her to Milton Cottage, the small property bequeathed to him as the second son of the late Earl of Tempest.
As a result, she’d lost almost everything she’d known but was now married and expecting a child.
As she’d oft found herself doing of late, she rubbed her belly. Less than four months away, sometime in February, or perhaps late in January, they would be a family.
She stared across the field and around the small property that had become her home and realized the sunlight had turned a shade of gold unique to autumn. It lent an almost timeless quality to the trees, the listing stable, and the house. A breeze blew a strand of hair across her face and she brushed it away. A second, stronger gust sent a handful of fallen leaves swirling across the dirt and caused the trim falling off the roof of the porch to creak rhythmically.
Unfortunately, the same uniform that had drawn Naomi to Arthur was the reason she had been left behind alone to deal not only with impending motherhood but an estate that was very much in need of repair.
But those few months before he’d been called away—they had been magical, dreamlike.
The trim groaned and then made a loud snapping sound before it fell to the ground causing her to jump. She inhaled a calming breath and reached down to pull another radish—this one even smaller than the last.
When Arthur’s soldier’s pay arrived, if it ever arrived, she could pay someone to help her out with repairs. Although Milton Cottage suffered from years of neglect, she wanted it to feel like home to Arthur when he returned.
He’d promised he would be back in time for Christmas and already she was imagining spending their first holiday together. She’d been compelled by his impending return to make little changes that would hopefully make a difference. She’d located a chest of well-preserved fabric in the attic and was slowly replacing the drapes on all of the windows. Meanwhile, her maid had polished so much wood that Naomi wouldn’t be surprised if the house perpetually smelled of lemons now. The lemon oil, however, was a great improvement on the musty odor that had been ever-present when Arthur had brought her here.
A second piece of trim chose that moment to chime in with its own creaking sound but Naomi ignored it. She had so very much to be grateful for.
As long as she wasn’t feeling too uncomfortable by Christmas, perhaps they could go on a sleigh ride, join carolers from the nearby village of Hull Crossings. She would make all of the goodies her mother set out at home over the holidays.
She and Arthur would make their own traditions.
When she wasn’t cleaning or gardening, left alone, without her sister or even her mother for companionship, Naomi had taken to writing. At first, she’d jotted down a few fictional stories, about knights and maidens trapped in castles, but when she’d reread them, they had seemed almost childlike.
More recently she found the most satisfaction in writing her own story—falling head over heels in love with Arthur, how he’d made her feel, and then the result of her impulsive behavior. Writing helped pass the time when her body insisted she rest.
She had so much to look forward to—the holidays, the return of her husband, the birth of their child.
If only her parents could see fit to forgive Arthur and her. Surely, once they met their grandbaby, they would come around…
“It’ll all work out,” Arthur had promised her on more than one occasion. And when she’d admitted the fears she had concerning his safety, he’d laughed and kissed her affectionately. She tamped down the panic that rose whenever she contemplated the possibility that…
Stop it, Naomi.
It did no use to imagine the danger he would inevitably place himself in. As a British Captain—he had no choice but to put himself in harm’s way while serving his country. He’d maintained he could keep himself safe. He’d promised her he would return.
Once the baby was here, he would take her to meet his mother and brother. They hadn’t enough time before eloping, and he’d resisted a visit later, claiming he’d wanted time alone with her before he would be compelled to leave.
There would be plenty of time after his return, he’d assured her.
He planned to permanently resign upon completing this last mission and live a quiet life as a family man and landlord, managing the holdings surrounding his estate. Everything was going to be just as it should be.
Until then, she would do what she could to keep the estate from falling down around her. And she would be brave. She had their child to take care of in his absence.
Whereas his duty was to protect and defend the British Empire, hers was to protect the life growing inside of her.
Another hearty gust of wind stirred the leaves on the trees and, despite the warmth of the afternoon sun, a shiver had her hugging her arms in front of her. The little radish growing inside of her kicked, almost as though he had felt it too.
Silly. Carrying this babe had caused her to become overly emotional.
Hooves sounding along the road broke into her thoughts and did nothing to erase the unease she’d experienced only seconds before.
Her first thought was that it was Arthur returning earlier than he’d said. She pushed herself up from the ground and then rose onto her toes as though this would help her to see the rider sooner. The man wore a uniform… He was whole and hearty and racing to be at her side. Her heart leapt. She’d be back in his arms in seconds rather than months.