The Reverend's Daughter (Book 2 after The Duke's Daughter)

Chapter Forty One Part Two

The guests began milling about the different areas of the estate as the Wench's crew, in full character, directed them here and there. Small children were encouraged to be led to the barn, there to see the horses and petting animals under Jordy and his men's watchful eyes. Other families made their way to the lake, wanting to toss feed at the ducks, to then watch them swim and dive.

Many made their way to the meadow around the back side of the lake. That was where the booths were arranged in rows, the rows facing one another, a walkway left open down the center. The booths were all festively painted, colorful banners flew from the tops of them waving gloriously in the morning breeze. Some guests wanted to immediately try their hand at the games. Yet others found the fragrant booths where the food was being distributed more to their immediate desire.

Violet made his way through the milling throng of people, exuberantly greeting them, wearing his pirate persona large as life. Swinging his arms widely, a bag of coins jingling against the sword at his waist, he bowed flamboyantly and ruffled a few children's heads as he sashayed his way straight to Betsy.

Betsy watched his approach, soaking up the sight of this incomparable man. The wonder that he was hers swelled painfully in her breast. She had missed Violet terribly in the short amount of time he had been gone from her. Especially, as she wanted to tell him her glad news so very badly.

Upon reaching Betsy, Violet slid his hand behind her nape, he drew her near, his hand moving to slide over the silky tresses at the back of her head and pull her in close. He gazed deeply into her eyes, his own full with love, as he tilted his head to searingly kiss her. Such a possessive kiss was it, that it caused many a man to smirk and chuckle, many a woman to sigh breathily.

"He is perfection."

"What a fortunate girl."

"Oh. My. Word!"

Children began tugging at their mother's skirts, gaining their mother's attentions, begging to be shown what activities were to be had. Most of the women who witnessed the kiss, breathed one, last, wishful sigh towards the couple; wishing they could be Betsy, that was; before allowing themselves to be dragged off by their broods.

A fine, large, black carriage slowly crept through the parting crowd, it came to a stop in front of the landing, just as Violet drew back from passionately kissing his shallowly panting wife.

Half a dozen children piled from the well sprung carriage, gaining Violet and Betsy's attentions, just as soon as the coach's door was forcibly opened from the inside. The children ranged in ages from approximately four to ten. They immediately grabbed for one another's hands and shot off in the direction of the ship.

A frazzled, yet, seemingly, cheerful woman hopped down behind the children. Her golden eyes took note of which way they ran, before she turned to quickly dip in front of her host and hostess. "Lady Christine Conner, I be. Lord Ashton's cousin, lovely 'tis ta meet ye." Her gaze darted off after the children again. "Please, do be excusin' me, however, go I must." The exuberant brunette took off immediately in pursuit of the gaggle of children, her hair coming half out of her bun, her cheeks flushed, her stride purposeful as her searching eyes sought to keep her quarry in view. Christine was attempting to allow the children's parents, her cousin, Lord Ashton, and his wife, Sassy, some time to enjoy the day on their own. Undaunted by the crowd, Christine forged ahead, grabbing up a hand of each of  the younger children as she overtook them, then heading out for the other four who had run over ahead to see the ship in the yard.

Lord Ashton alit from the carriage, turning immediately to assist his wife from the coach.

Betsy blinked away the euphoria that Violet's passion had invoked. She was a bit surprised at the stocky, jovial woman who took Ashton's hand and stepped down. Ashton was a very handsome, fit, distinguished man. The very same man that Betsy had imagined in white skivvies with little red hearts all over them.