Feeling almost euphoric, he guided his horse into the driveway that led to Langston Grange.
Chapter 9
Emily lifted her hands from the piano as her maid came into the music room. She’d gone there when she’d calmed, taking out her frustration on the hapless keys, instead of packing Cecily’s bonnet.
“Your aunt sent me to fetch you, my lady.”
“Is it time for tea already?”
“It is, and there’s a visitor downstairs.”
“Very well.” She put away her music and headed for the main drawing room. She hadn’t planned to join her aunt today, but if a guest was present, she had no choice.
Her aunt’s trilling laughter drifted along the hallway. The caller must be someone known to her aunt, or she would be quieter. She reached the landing, straightened her skirt and cap, and entered the drawing room.
“There you are. I told Lord Cardmore you would appear.”
A knot tightened in her stomach as she slowed her steps. Had she not made herself clear by running off? She did not want to see Andrew. Not now, anyway. She needed more time to come to terms with her new knowledge of him. She was not one to hold a grudge. But the information he’d shared was too fresh, too raw. She hadn’t even had a chance to discuss it with Aunt Lily.
There’s nothing to be done at the moment except hold my head high and be polite.
She swallowed and moved forward. Andrew rose from his chair and nodded. “Nice to see you again, Lady Emily.”
“And so soon.” She muttered the words under her breath, not caring if he heard, as she swept past and took a seat next to her aunt. The tea table was out, and Aunt Lily poured, handing her a cup. A plate of sweets nestled next to the cups.
Andrew seated himself and grinned like a man who had not a care in the world. How did he do it when he must know she had not yet processed his news? But he did know her, probably better than most, and probably counted on her adherence to propriety to not bring up their conversation of the morning.
“I told Cardmore he is looking well. He says his wound is healing nicely.” Aunt Lily sank her teeth into a crème cake and blotted her mouth with a napkin.
“Where were you wounded, my lord?” Emily asked.
“My shoulder.” He placed his hand on the spot. “Saber.”
“I see. It was your body then. I thought perhaps it was your pride.”
Aunt Lily’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.
“A bit of pride was involved as well, my lady. That part has recovered. The body takes longer.”
She nodded and sipped her tea, her eyes locked on Andrew’s face, wondering if it made him uncomfortable.
Aunt Lily smiled brightly, ever the enthusiast. “And how have you found Cardmore Hall? Is it as you remembered? Your father has been gone for nearly two years, and I heard it lay vacant, waiting for your return.”
“Dusty. Dank. Dismal. Can you think of any other words to describe a place with covered furniture and empty grates? For a week, my valet and I rattled around in the place, our only companions a few mice and an old cat I found in the stables. Fortunately, a cook was available in the village. When my friend Lord Ralston came to call, my table, at least, was fit for dining.”
“And how are you faring now?” Aunt asked.
He swallowed the biscuit he was chewing. “Much better, thank you. I now have a housekeeper, a maid, and two footmen. I’m hoping to bring Spencer, our butler, back. Others can be employed when I have a butler in place. My man of business did keep the stablemaster to care for the horses and Mr. Drake to manage the estate.”
Emily crossed her arms. “Sounds like everything is under control.”
“Yes, well, not quite.” He set down his cup and leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “I have a bit of a dilemma. A temporary one, I assume. But I came here hoping for advice from you wise ladies.”
A tingle stirred the back of Emily’s neck, as if a cool breeze had suddenly drifted into the room. Andrew was up to something. Wariness prickled her skin and forced her to sit up straighter to listen more intently.
He looked down and paused, as if he didn’t know how his words would be received.
“Speaking of staff—or lack thereof—I find I am in need of a nurse.” He looked up and tried to smile, but his lips quickly turned down.
Emily’s brows drew together. “A nurse? Is someone ill?”
“No, not that kind. A nursemaid—nanny—you know, someone who can care for a child.”
Aunt Lily spoke up. “If one of your servants has a child in the house, shouldn’t they find their own? It’s not your responsibility. And I must say, it’s generous of you to allow a servant to have her child with her, especially a young one needing a nurse.”
He rose and walked to the hearth, taking the poker and absently stirring the embers. Aunt Lily still liked a wood fire, especially when the logs had a fragrant scent.
“The child does not belong to a servant. As I said, I have very little staff at the moment.”
“How old is the child, and what gender?” Aunt Lily reached for another crème cake and bit into it, letting a few crumbs drop.
“A boy—six years old.”
A curious thought slid into Emily’s brain. If Caroline Woodley had given birth to a healthy child, it would be about that age now. But no one had ever mentioned the babe, and everyone had assumed it died when she did. Could the child have survived? Was Andrew talking about his child? His son? He’d said nothing about a child during their conversation by the lake.
Andrew set the poker in its place and seemed to study the embers. When he returned to his chair, the grin was gone from his face.
“Well? Do you know of anyone?” He was looking down again, now sliding his signet ring off and on his finger. The motion told Emily he was nervous. It was an old habit he had apparently not outgrown.
Aunt Lily ran her fingers through her hair, dislodging a pin. “I believe the bookseller in the village has a sister who has served as a nursemaid. She’s a woman whose children have emigrated to Canada.” Her gaze left Andrew’s face, and she nodded toward Emily. “You know who I mean, Em. She helps the vicar with the school. I believe she misses her grandchildren, although they were babes when they moved.”
Emily bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. “I know who you mean. But Cardmore said he wanted a temporary nurse.” She swallowed and faced Andrew. “Will one of your nephews be visiting?”
“No.”
“Someone else?”
He looked down and fingered his ring. “Not exactly.”
“Who then? Who is this child?”
He stood abruptly and faced the women awaiting his answer. “His name is George, and he’s Caroline’s son.”
Aunt Lily’s eyes widened. “But-I thought she died in childbirth and the babe with her.”
“The boy survived.”
Emily grimaced and turned away. Caroline’s son? The child he spoke of would be Cardmore’s heir, born of his wedded wife. What had he meant by temporary? To think he would reject a child curdled her heart.
“When you say temporary, what exactly do you mean?”
“I hope my sister Bronwyn might agree to raise him.”
Speaking quietly, with all of the haughty demeanor she’d learned during her disgrace, Emily cut through the momentary silence that fell over the room. “The woman Aunt Lily mentioned is an excellent choice. I suggest you send for her and see if she is available. As for the temporary nature of the employment, I sincerely suggest you reconsider. This child is your responsibility. How you could even think of abandoning him is beyond cruel—even for you.”
“But I told you—“
“You told me your legally wedded wife brought an innocent bab
e into the world while you were at war. I assume he resided at Woodley Park after his mother’s death. Now you’ve returned, and his rightful place is with you.”
Aunt Lily stuffed a biscuit into her mouth and chewed furiously. Andrew, his cheeks suffused with red, glowered. Calm settled over Emily as she surveyed her companions. She was very sure this was the right thing to do. The Andrew she knew would never be this pernicious, even if what he’d told her about Caroline’s condition upon her marriage was true. The war had changed him. Now that he was home, perhaps he would change back.
He stared at her, his gaze curiously benign, like all the fight had been taken out of him. He idly rubbed his injured shoulder and then nodded. “I’ll take my leave now.” He rose, and Aunt Lily signaled to have his topcoat and hat brought in.
“I’ll contact the woman in the morning.” Wincing, he thrust his bad arm into the sleeve, then his good, and pulled his coat closed. Turning, he bowed toward Aunt Lily. “Thank you, Mrs. Whittington, for the tea. I may have need of further advice, as time passes.”
Aunt Lily nodded. “From two childless women? Really, Cardmore, you might still want to consult your sister. See him out, will you Emily? I forgot to ask cook about the dessert for dinner.”
Emily sighed and followed him into the front hall. “You’re in a fine hobble, aren’t you, Andrew?”
“You still don’t believe me.”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“He’s not my son.”
“He is in the eyes of the law.”
He put on his gloves and hat and turned toward the door. Even with her unfashionable height, she barely reached above his shoulder.
“You can see yourself out.”
“Fine.”
“Andrew, whether I believe you or not in this matter, your duty toward the child remains the same. He’s your heir, the next earl. People think of you now as a war hero. If you foist off this child on someone else, your reputation will suffer.”
“I don’t care what people think of me. The fact remains, I know nothing about children. What am I to do with him, Em?”
“You can love him. Remember what your father did to you and how it made you feel.”
“That’s a low blow.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I know it’s hard to go back, but we were once friends. Do you think you could help me with this problem? For the child’s sake if not for mine?”
“You ask a lot.”
“Think on it then.” He waited for the butler to open the outer door. He looked like a puppy someone had kicked to the ground.
She sighed. “Let the child settle in with the nurse, and then bring him here to tea. Aunt Lily and I both like children and can better assess his needs.”
He nodded and walked away.
She sincerely hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash.
Chapter 10
Chilled to the bone, Andrew galloped all the way home. His discomfort was not caused by the weather. Emily still hadn’t forgiven him, but what did he expect? Immediate absolution? He’d been the source of extreme humiliation, perhaps even her current unmarried state.
Fools. Couldn’t they see what a prize she was?
Her challenge of his decisions for the child made him uneasy. Was he wrong to want the boy to be brought up in a home with a mother? His sister Bronwyn wasn’t perfect, but her brood had turned out fine. If George couldn’t live in the only home he’d ever known, then Bronwyn would be a good choice.
Perhaps he’d been hasty in sharing his dilemma with the only women in the neighborhood he trusted. But his immediate problem now had a solution. Matilda, the housemaid, couldn’t continue to do double duty. Her training was elsewhere.
He dismounted in the stable and handed his horse over to the stablemaster. Gathering his greatcoat around him, he shivered as a strong gust nearly blew him off his feet. The cold and damp felt like snow, although it was early for such severe weather in the Cotswolds.
“Rub him down and then give him his feed.”
“Very well, my lord.”
“And Jones, remind me to take a closed conveyance next time I make calls in frigid weather.”
Not waiting for an answer, he trudged to the house. A light shone from the third floor.
George is installed in the nursery then.
Perhaps he should get to know the child better.
He hurried through the garden, ran up the terrace steps, and entered the house through the ground floor ballroom. The blasted room was as cold as the outdoors. Finding the central stairs, he climbed to the library on the first floor where warmth engulfed him the moment he opened the door. He took off his outerwear, throwing them down on a chair, and stood for a moment in front of the grate, his hands in front of him. The library was his sanctuary. He’d given a standing order to always have the fire lit in this room, and thankfully, it had been followed.
Not bothering to light a candle, he continued up the stairs and into his private sitting room. He needed a dose of medicine to get him through the evening. Should he wait until after dinner to visit the boy? The child dined in the nursery. Perhaps he’d see him now—as soon as this abominable pain eased.
Where is Lester?
Strange how he’d come to rely on his valet, even though he’d only hired him a month ago. Lester had shown up at his lodgings in London, not three days after he’d sold his commission, and presented a letter of recommendation from an old Eton acquaintance. Bewildered, he’d examined the reference and invited the man in. He’d needed a valet, having lost his batman at Waterloo, but how had the man known? His answer had shown how enterprising he was. He said he’d presented himself to several returning officers, hoping for a position. Most did not need one and sent him away.
Andrew hired him posthaste. Some days he could barely slip his bad arm into a coat sleeve because of the pain in his shoulder. A valet had been his first item of business.
Andrew sighed in relief when a knock on the door was followed by the man himself.
“You’re home.”
“I’ve dosed myself, but I’m in need of some information. Give me an update on the child and then find out what time he dines.”
Lester stood in front of him, his hands behind his back. “The nursery is cleaned, and the child has settled in. I was told by Mrs. Evans he brought a meager wardrobe and will need a few garments for winter. He also had a few toys, now put on shelves in the nursery.”
“Were there any books? Does he read?”
“I believe he is too young, my lord.”
“Does he still cry?”
“Less, I’m told. Mrs. Evans says the cat has not left his side and has proven to be a calming influence.”
“Very well.” He closed his eyes and let the information sink in. “And dining?”
“He has his meal early. I believe he is eating it now in the servants’ hall.”
“Why there?”
“The maid, Matilda, says the nursery is vast and difficult to heat. The servants’ hall is next to the kitchen where it is warmer.”
“Please inform Mrs. Evans I would like her to bring the boy to me here when he finishes his dinner.”
“Very good, milord.”
When Lester departed, Andrew rose and took another spoonful of the brown liquid that brought him peace. Thank God it was readily available. He sat back down in his most comfortable chair and relived his conversation with the ladies of Langston Grange. They were right of course. He was shirking his responsibilities. The child had no choice in who begat him. Being raised in the Woodley household, who knew what he’d been told?
He relaxed into his chair and must have dozed off because he startled awake with a knock on his door.
“Enter.”
Mrs. Ev
ans walked in, holding the boy’s hand.
“Please be seated, Mrs. Evans. Master George can occupy the footstool next to the chair.” He swept his hand toward the seat in front of the fire, directly opposite his. She seated the boy before dropping carefully onto the edge of the chair. Still holding the child’s hand firmly, she disengaged it, then faced her employer.
The boy’s sixth year had passed. He’d looked up the date of birth in his papers earlier in the day. Looking at him now, he could see a distinct resemblance to Caroline—the blond hair, blue eyes, and patrician nose. Wide, unblinking eyes—her eyes— stared at him, but the boy made no sound.
“Do you know who I am?”
The boy nodded.
So he had been filled in.
“Are you settled in your quarters?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you read, George?”
“No, sir.”
“Would you like to learn?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can speak your mind, George. You don’t have to answer with two words, you know.”
Mrs. Evans sighed. “The boy is still bewildered and frightened, my lord. He was quite talkative in the kitchen.”
The pain in Andrew’s shoulder had eased, and he had a feeling of well-being. It didn’t hurt to be kind to the child. Emily was right. He had an obligation to see to his education and provide him a home, even if every time he looked at him, he saw Caroline. The answer might be to keep him, but out of sight.
Unworthy, Cardmore.
“Are your needs being met, George? Is there anything you would like to do besides learn to read?”
He twisted his small hands in his lap and seemed to take a deep breath. “Are there really horses in your stable, sir? Might there be a pony?”
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