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has done you the honor of giving you three daughters.”

      “I—” There were only Banning male portraits hanging in the great hall. “Every single one?”

      “Every baby is a girl.”

      He closed his eyes. A whole new, unexplored world laid out its vastness before him. Lace and ruffles. Diaries and separate phone lines. Three girls. He’d better buy stock in the phone company.

      Boy friends.

      Oh, Lord. “And this one?” he demanded, pointing to the next baby on a blanket.

      “That one is Miss Magoo.”

      “Miss Magoo!”

      “Mr. Magoo if it had been a boy, of course. You see the resemblance.”

      Alex stared at the lashless baby. She grinned hugely at him, unaffected by her surroundings. With the big bald head, he supposed the baby did resemble Mr. Magoo. With luck, she’d grow hair eventually.

      In trepidation, he looked at the smallest baby. It was by far the most unattractive creature he had ever seen. To Alex’s mind, this wizened child had a face only its mother could love. “What did this homely child’s unnatural mother name her?”

      “I believe Miss Daphne affectionately called her Alex Junior. Alexis, in the feminine sense, I should think.”

      “This is the one she chose to bear my name?” Astounded, he stared at the tiny baby, who appeared to glare back at him. Daphne’s eyes, Daphne’s mouth and no doubt Daphne’s temper. “She’s scrawnier than the others. And, though I hate to say it, she’s…ugly.”

      “Sir, please. The child hears you.”

      “Well, her mother will soon hear me, as well. Something’s got to be done about these names.” He reached down, gently picking up Alex Junior. “This one doesn’t look like me at all. Why do you suppose she named this one Alex Junior?”

      “She said that one was forced out of the um, chute, sir. Miss Daphne commented that being forced to do some thing against its will was in keeping with your situation.” Sinclair coughed delicately, but Alex knew he was trying not to laugh. “She was the first child born. I believe it is customary that first born males bear their father’s name. Miss Daphne believes gender shouldn’t affect any situation adversely.”

      It damn well did. Alex stared at the baby doubt fully, receiving the full force of haunting Daphne eyes watching him. He sighed, almost frightened by the morning’s events. If Daphne did anything by convention it would be a first, and Sinclair knew it. He handed the baby to the valet with a shrug. “I’m going to see Daphne now.”

      “I would take an heirloom from the vault, sir.”

      Alex paused, thunder struck. “An heirloom?”

      Sinclair kept his head turned stiffly forward. “It is generally looked upon favorably by the mother to receive a token from the father of her child, signifying his appreciation for her propagating his lineage.”

      Alex’s brows raised. “Are you suggesting a tiara?” Did three babies require more of an appropriate gesture than one baby?

      “Your mother’s pearls should do nicely, though I do believe Miss Daphne isn’t in a relenting mood.”

      “I’ll stop by the vault on my way to her room.” Alex’s chest tightened as he left the nursery. If he owned a diamond mine in South Africa and signed it over in her name, Daphne would likely not care.

      He wondered if she had ever loved him—the way he’d loved her.

      Still loved her.

      Chapter Two

      Alex walked into the large bedroom he and Daphne had once shared. His heart thudded un com fort ably as he looked for the woman who’d sent him divorce papers. Receiving them had nearly killed him. He’d wanted to shred them and throw them into a fire place, but he’d filed them away in a cabinet. He couldn’t put her off forever. If she insisted on the divorce, he guessed he’d have to give it to her. It would be a hell of a one-year anniversary gift, one he didn’t want.

      “Daphne? Are you in here?” he asked softly, glancing around the room.

      She popped her head out from inside a closet. His heart stopped instantly, and his mouth dried out. Daphne was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Not pop-culture beautiful, no. Classically beautiful, with beautiful, large green eyes. Bronze hair waved down over her shoulders.

      “Alex.” She came from the closet and seemed to find it hard to look at him.

      “I—I brought you this,” he said stiffly, holding out the velvet pouch that contained his mother’s pearls.

      She shook her head. “I don’t want anything from you.”

      He bit the inside of his jaw, wondering how to proceed. What should he say to this woman who’d just borne his children? “You look beautiful,” he said honestly.

      “Thank you.”

      Her voice was gentle and quiet—and somehow un convinced. Alex scratched his neck and cleared his throat. “I saw the babies.”

      “Oh?” She briefly met his gaze before finding a place on the floor to stare at.

      “I’m a bit over whelmed to find myself a father of three all at once.” He smiled to show her he was taking it well, but she kept her vision trained to the ground. “How are you? Being a mother of three…I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through,” he said helplessly.

      “I’m fine.” Shrugging, she went back to sorting baby things. “Managing.”

      “Is there any way I can help?” He really, really wanted to help her in any way she needed.

      “Not pulling commando tactics on me would be nice. Just because you have half the world’s money doesn’t give you the right to drag me and the babies away from our home.” She stared at him belligerently.

      He spread his hands in front of him, struggling to understand the hidden meaning behind her words. The tiny apartment she’d leased didn’t seem to be much of a home to him. Their home was here, at Green Forks, if he could only convince her of that. “You belong here, Daphne, no matter what our relationship is.”

      “Even divorced? You would want me here?”

      Swallowing tightly, he said, “Of course. Those are my children. You are my wife.”

      Her eyes were wide. “Even if I’m not your wife?”

      He couldn’t bear to think about it. As long as he could put it off, he wasn’t signing those papers. Daphne had married him for better or worse, and by heaven, he had to convince her that being his wife fell under the heading of better. “Let’s not talk about that right now.”

      “We have to, Alex! We have to talk. You may not like to, but we probably should have done more talking before we got married.” She sank into a chair. “I’m so tired. Can we argue some other time?”

      Instantly alarmed, he said, “I’ll call Nelly.”

      “What for? I want to rest, not have to talk to one more person.”

      Sudden tapping in the hall electrified her nerves. It sounded like a cane. It sounded like—

      “Daphne. You’re back.” Aided by Sinclair, Alexander walked into the room.

      She bristled at the tone in his voice, which seemed to imply that she’d returned of her own free will. She was amazed by the recovery he’d made. He looked like his old self again. “For the moment,” she said with a lift of her chin.

      “Hmph.” He leaned on his cane. “Like your mama, birthing triplets. Where’s the boy?”

      “Sorry to disappoint you, but apparently that’s

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