Hunters

XXV. Holiday

XXV. Holiday

"Zora," Lecia breathed. She was beside herself with amazement and adoration. In her lap, not even removed from the box it had been wrapped in, was a small portrait of man a Duchess recognized painted by a familiar hand.

"It's truly quite happenstance that I realized what it was," her sister said, beaming. "For some reason it caught my eye as we were travelling through a shop, and once I knew, I could not have left it there."

Tentatively, Lecia traced a fingertip over the curve of Chopin's nose, and then she set the gift to the side and rushed to give her sister an affectionate hug. She truly did miss having her near all of the time. Laughing, they separated and Zora took her sister's hands.

"I'm afraid every gift from now on will be a disappointment," the elder giggled.

"Never," Lecia countered. "You're always so thoughtful. I, on the other hand, am often impersonal and, this year, entirely inconvenient."

As a gift, Lecia had commissioned a beautiful evening gown for her sister. While the dress was well suited for Zora's complexion and temperament, it was a neutral effort on Lecia's part simply because the younger woman was terrible with gifts. Furthermore, the idea had been decent enough when she had asked Mr. Worth to do the work in July, but since then the Baron had passed away and it would be many more months before Zora could wear the light colored gown. Not to mention, the Duchess had never imagined that her sister would have become quite so large with child. It was debatable whether the garment would ever fit.

"Delacroix?" Vaughan asked his wife as she returned to the settee beside him. She smiled, admiring his eye, and nodded.

"Yes," she said. "How did you know?"

"He painted my mam's portrait. He has a distinctive stroke," he explained, glancing at the piece and then back to Lecia.

"I didn't know that your mother had a portrait," she murmured so that no one else could hear. While it was an intimate gathering, they were at the Earl's London estate, so there were additional members of her sister's new relatives present. Namely, the nosey Countess.

"It's in Itton," Vaughan told her. "My grandparents' farm is maintained as an additional source of income, so I had a small chapel built. The locals hail her as a saint, so it was only fitting they have a place of patronage."

"Oh," Lecia whispered. "I'd like to see it some time. Your mother's portrait, I mean. The farm as well, I expect."

He offered a half-hearted smile before shifting his gaze to Henry, who had risen to take a drink at the back of the room and beckoned the Duke join him. As Vaughan left her, Zora approached, baby Henry in her arms and an impish grin on her beautifully round face.

"You mush hold him," the new mother insisted.

Lecia peeked at the infant wearily and quickly took in her surroundings. Their mother was on a nearby sofa, clearly brimming with excitement. The Countess was distracted-for the moment, anyway-so at least she might not witness the impending debacle. Vaughan and Henry were engaged over scotch, which suited the baby's aunt just fine, but before the Duchess could have even objected had she wanted to, the swaddled child was thrust into her arms with gentle urgency.

Little Henry was very small. Lecia was sure he weighed less than Harry had. She had never actually seen a baby, as they had close to no relatives and the ones the Harpers did have-Uncle Ruslan, for instance-had not started their own families. So, of course, she had never held one. It was an odd sensation, holding a person in that way. It would have been kind of her to say that he was precious to look at, but, as it was, the only adorable feature about him yet was his size. However, she could not overlook an innate affection for the boy. He was her nephew by blood; her sister had made this tiny living thing. Still, it was so fascinating to cradle in her arms the life of a child. One day, he would be a man; he would be an Earl and would have his own children, yet here he was, helpless and incapable of most things.