The Bath company seemed to be out in force this afternoon, hurrying to the shops or taking leisurely strolls to the Pump Room. Simon drew the crisp fall air deep into his lungs, relishing an uncommon feeling of contentment as he strode up Bond Street to the jeweler’s. Sophie was his. The very notion still made him shake his head in disbelief, but by Christmas they would be man and wife, and she would be safely ensconced at Kendlerood House, his family’s ancient manor in Lincolnshire. He imagined Puck as chatelaine of his estates, comfortably settling into her role as lady of the manor. He grinned. Perhaps she would even be pregnant by Christmas. They had certainly made a good start on that project over the last few days. The thought of Sophie grown soft and round with his baby was surprisingly enticing, and not just because she would provide him with an heir. Unlike most men he knew, Simon liked children and looked forward to fatherhood. Sons and daughters—and he wanted two or three of each—would have the added benefit of keeping his mischievous elf busy and out of trouble.
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