The Brigadier's Runaway Bride (Dukes of War Book 5) by Erica Ridley Read Free Book Online Page B

she ever wishes to present her face to Society again. Worse, she thought I was dead. By confessing her situation to you—or to anyone—she would have destroyed any opportunity to save the baby’s fate.”
    His mother wiggled free from her husband’s arms. “But when would you have—”
    “Bruges,” he answered. “Just before Waterloo. She joined me for my last day of leave.”
    His father arched a brow.
    Edmund colored. “During her stay, I asked her to marry me and she acquiesced. I regret that my actions caused her to suffer. My feelings have not changed, but the war disrupted our timeline.”
    Disrupted it so badly that Sarah was forced to the altar within scant weeks of her expected delivery. She could not have waited any longer, he realized. She was out of choices and out of time.
    “In that case, of course the two of you will live here,” his mother said briskly, her eyes softening. “Trying to avoid scandal in London is like trying to avoid heat in the summertime. Bring her here at once. She’ll feel right at home. We’ll be two peas in a pod, planning a wedding and a christening. Why, I’m happy to set up a nursery in any room that she wants. The chamber between hers and mine will do nicely. I’ve got nothing else to do. I’ll be the most helpful, loving, and attentive grandmother you lovebirds could ever dream of!”
    Edmund stared at his well-meaning mother in growing dismay. It was good to be home, but allowing his mother to smother his bride with unceasing attentions was the last thing they needed. The first thing they needed was the privacy—and the time—to get to know each other again.
    Correction: the first step in the battle was to get married.

Chapter 6

    Within hours of having returned from his visit to his parents, Edmund had given enough orders and commissioned enough supplies to feel like the general of an army.  
    His townhouse (long live Bartholomew!) would be the base for Operation Wife and Baby. There wasn’t quite enough money to employ more than a skeletal crew of servants, but how much trouble could a tiny infant be?  
    Once a few investments paid off, they could hire governesses or nannies or wet nurses or whatever the baby needed. Until then, Edmund and Sarah would simply have to be battalion leaders. A team. A solid, united front against the world.  
    Or at least against soiled nappies.
    Bearing a folded parchment on a silver tray, Edmund’s manservant entered what had once been Edmund’s study and was now a makeshift nursery. A cradle would arrive within the week, as would a beggaring amount of linens and white cotton baby gowns and suitable toys. And a pair of rocking chairs had been commissioned to match the cradle.
    The housekeeper had suggested most of the items, for which Edmund was deeply grateful. He knew nothing about being a husband and even less about being a father to a small child. His own past gave no insight. He and his brother had been nearly eight years old before they could finally slip out from under their mother’s watchful eye to engage in manly pursuits with their father. Hunting. Fishing. Boxing.
    Those things would come later. The first year would be the hardest. Or perhaps the most dull. When did babies begin talking and playing? When they were two years of age? Three? Perhaps that was why he and his twin hadn’t engaged their father’s interest until they were much older. They had been boring.
    No matter. Even if his child was nothing more than a pretty little doll at first, he would not abandon Sarah to do the rearing herself. Nor should she have to. His fists clenched. If he had more money, she wouldn’t have had to lift a finger—most gentlewomen had little reason to interact with their offspring.  
    But Sarah was not most gentlewomen and Edmund was not a gentleman at all. If he were, he wouldn’t have taken her innocence and left her with child. Nor would he have stolen her out from the arms of a duke, or forced her to live in