Lord Of The Privateers. Stephanie Laurens

Declan’s jaw set. “Besides,” she continued, a note of steel sliding into her voice, “you wouldn’t want me to regret that I’m carrying your firstborn at this moment, would you?”

      Royd swallowed the bark of laughter that nearly escaped him. There was absolutely no possible answer Declan could make, other than...

      Declan shifted in his chair. “No, of course not.” He concentrated on peeling the pear on his plate.

      Shortly after, in sunny good humor, Edwina rose, and the company adjourned to the drawing room. The room had a pleasant ambiance; Royd approved of his sister-in-law’s taste, which apparently ran to comfort rather than the latest fashion.

      The women sat on one sofa and the nearby armchair. He claimed the armchair he’d previously occupied, leaving the other sofa for Robert and Declan. They sprawled, relaxed and at ease. Isobel asked Edwina if she had any social engagements planned over the next days, and from there, talk turned to more general topics.

      Royd learned that, on their ultimate return from Africa, Robert planned to visit Aileen’s family in Scarborough. Royd asked about Aileen’s brothers, which led to a discussion of the situation in the Americas. Royd contributed to the debate, but for the most part, remained focused on Isobel. He listened to her opinions—which, of course, she had; she knew nearly as much about global shipping as he did. What he learned suggested that the past eight years, while not altering anything fundamental about either of them, had nevertheless expanded their knowledge and experience in ways the other might not yet appreciate.

      That was a point he decided to bear in mind.

      The ringing of the doorbell was, minutes later, followed by the entrance of the butler, Humphrey. He bore a silver salver on which resided a letter opener and a white envelope. Humphrey paused by Royd’s chair. “For you, Captain.”

      Royd lifted the envelope, glanced at the writing, and straightened in the chair. “Wolverstone.” He picked up the letter knife, slit the envelope, then returned the knife to the salver. “Thank you, Humphrey.”

      Humphrey bowed and departed.

      From the envelope, Royd drew out a single sheet. He unfolded it and read.

      “Well?” Robert asked.

      “We have an appointment with Melville at Wolverstone House tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock. Apparently, that’s the earliest Melville can absent himself from the Admiralty.”

      “Excellent!” Edwina looked at Isobel and Aileen. “That means we’ll have the morning free to further our own plans.”

      Royd looked at Edwina, then at Isobel’s and Aileen’s faces—and deduced that the males of the party weren’t included in Edwina’s “our.”

      Which suited him. He had arrangements of his own to make, and his brothers would have, too.

      Against that, of course, lay the undeniable fact that the three women were fast connecting in a way that would forge them into a formidable supportive force; Royd knew all about the power that females in plural could bring to bear—witness Isobel’s grandmother and her largely female clan.

      Yet when he considered what the outcome would likely be, it wasn’t concern he felt but an odd form of contentment. Anything that helped bind Isobel into his family was to be encouraged.

      He sat back and smiled at Edwina. He was appreciating his sister-in-law more and more.