Gifts of the Heart

By Mary Kruger

Life long ago settled into a comfortable routine for Robert and Eliza Evans, the Marquess and Marchioness of Stowe. Robert is active in politics in Regency London, while Eliza remains on their estate in Devon with their children. But when Eliza unexpectedly becomes pregnant, cracks appear in their marriage. It takes a major crisis before Robert and Eliza learn to give Gifts of the Heart.

Originally published in A Mother's Love, by Mary Kingsley.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Kruger
• Release date: Feb 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452459417

Mary Kruger

Mary Kruger has been writing for many moons and has the gray hair to prove it. She is the author of the acclaimed Gilded Age mystery series, featuring sleuthing pair Matt Devlin and Brooke Cassidy; she has also written two contemporary set knitting mysteries, published by Pocked Books. Under her secret identity of Mary Kingsley she is also the best-selling author of Regency and historical romances, and has been nominated for RWA's prestigious RITA award. Mary began telling herself stories at a very young age and just never stopped. She believes the only good book is one that comes from the heart. In addition to writing, Mary is a librarian. she has taught at Southcoast Learning Community in Massachusetts, and at Brown University's Learning Community. When she is not playing Freecell, she enjoys reading, needlework, and, of course, chocolate. She lives in a seaside city rich with history with her adored daughter and total boss, Samantha. She is currently working on reissuing the Gilded Age series in ebook format.

Book preview

Gifts of the Heart

Mary Kruger

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Mary Kruger

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Cover design copyright 2011 by Princess Pages.

For Samantha

Chapter One

Robert Evans, the Marquess of Stowe, glanced out the window of the traveling carriage and then reached up to grasp the strap, bracing himself for the sharp downhill turn into the drive. Stowcroft, at last. It had been a long, weary trip from London to Devon, though the roads were in good shape and the weather was fine. His own impatience was what had made the trip so long. Never had Robert wished so much to be home. Never had he needed it quite so much.

The carriage swept past the lodge, where the gatekeeper rushed out, tugging at his forelock. Beside him his wife, still wiping her hands on her apron, dropped into a hasty curtsy. News of Robert’s homecoming hadn’t reached here, then, though he hadn’t really expected it to. He had made his decision to return too quickly to send a letter ahead. Eliza would be surprised to see him. Surprised, and glad? Lord, he hoped so. He found himself leaning forward, as if to hurry the carriage along. He needed to see Eliza again. He needed to confirm, despite the hint in his sister’s last letter, that she was well. Eliza was, quite simply, all he had.

He knew it didn’t seem that way to the outside world. His pedigree was long and his estates, if not vast, healthy. He took his seat in Parliament every year and enjoyed a position of influence in the Whig party. He would have been a supremely happy man, had Eliza ever bothered to come to London with him. Instead, she chose to stay behind at Stowcroft with their children, whom she claimed needed her more than he. It was an old argument, one he no longer fought, though now that Laura, their youngest, was nine, he hoped things would change. He was tired of living away from his wife.

The carriage dipped into a sun-dappled glade, the wheels rumbling briefly over the planks of a bridge, and then emerged again into sunlight. Before him was the house, a comfortable Elizabethan manor of gray stone, set on a plateau of emerald green turf that led to a cliff. Beyond was the shining sea, sparkling in the sun. He was home.

As the carriage drew up under the portico, a footman raced to open the door for him. Robert descended and strode into the house, past a startled-looking Shannon, the butler, and the curtsying maids. Welcome home, me lord. Shannon followed after him, grinning. Hiring him had been Eliza’s notion, a butler who performed his duties impeccably, but with the Irish tendency toward song and irreverence. Robert still wasn’t quite accustomed to him, after ten years. And fine it is to have ye here, me lord. Will ye be wanting refreshment? Or will ye be going to your rooms to bathe?

Neither, Robert said crisply, thrusting both hat and stick at him. Where is Lady Stowe?

Why, in the garden, me lord. Where else would she be? Surprise showed for a moment in the bright blue eyes, and then something else, an expression Robert couldn’t identify. Sure, and glad she’ll be to see ye. She’s—

Thank you, Shannon, Robert said, cutting him off, and turned away. He was never certain whether to upbraid the man for his impudence, or to return his cheerful smile. This house was certainly run differently than it had been in his parents’ day, a fact which his mother, on her infrequent visits, lamented. Robert liked the informality, even if it did sometimes make him uncomfortable.

From hall to antechamber to drawing room Robert strode, again looking neither to right nor left and so ignoring the rare Grinling Gibbons carvings in the hall and the exquisite Adam mantelpiece in the drawing room. The quickest way out to the garden was by the French windows that opened off the drawing room. So intent was he on his destination that he didn’t notice the figures gathered on the terrace, until he heard voices. Father! someone gasped, and he turned, startled, to see his daughters with their governess.

Good lord, they had grown. Though he had just seen them at Christmastime, both girls seemed to have added inches to their heights. In addition Delia, the oldest of his children at fourteen, no longer had the shape of a little girl. The thought gave him a pang. Delia. Laura. Smiling, he walked toward them.