“Did you address each other by titles?” he asked.
“No. I’m afraid that was something we did not need to worry about.”
“Then, if you are in my presence, please call me John. I know what you said in the past, but it makes me uncomfortable. I know I should be used to it, but I fear I never will be. Lord John is my father’s title.”
“But…” Vivienne began.
“What if I insist as a Lord?”
She paused for a moment and then stepped closer to peer over their shoulders. “Can you tell me more about the ship’s model you are building, John?” His name felt strange and intimate on her tongue.
“It is a scale model of the warship, HMS Resolute. It is a barque-rigged ship of the British Royal Navy.”
“Was this a war ship for the Crimea?”
“No. The HMS Edinburgh, the HMS Britannia and many more were used for the Crimea, but not this ship. The Resolute was specially outfitted for Arctic exploration. Last year she was found adrift by an American whaler in an ice floe off the Baffin Island, some 1,200 miles from where she had been abandoned.”
Vivienne ran her hand over the edge of the table and asked. “Did you fight in the Crimean War?”
“Yes.” He lifted the small piece he was working on and turned it in his hands. “I do not wish to be reminded of the battles I saw. The Crimean was bloody, brutal, and on land. This may be why I carry an interest in this ship. It was not there.”
She bent to take a closer look. “The details are amazing.”
“Thank you.” He handed Graeme a piece and pointed to where the boy should place it.
Vivienne watched him curiously. This amazing model was not created by someone with mental retardation as his father let her believe John had. Her cousin who, from birth, suffered from mental incompetence would never be able to build a model on this scale or anything else for that matter. Lord John placed each miniature detail with steady hands and no hesitations.
“May I sit?”
He gestured to the chair beside him.
“Thank you for spending time with Charlie. I know he misses a male figure in his life.”
He continued to work with the boys watching every move. “Your husband’s death?”
“He…” she swallowed as his memory rushed back. “Lucas died in the war.”
John nodded once and said simply, “I am sorry for your loss. If he was anything like Charlie, I know he was a good man.”
Pride filled her from his kind words.
“Tell me about Graeme’s lessons.”
As they chatted about the day, Vivienne found herself to be at ease with John. As she informed him about Graeme’s history and language lessons, he listened with a keen ear. His stillness was born of focus, but it was unnerving that the focus was on her. He’d pull his attention away every minute of so to instruct the boys with what to do next.
She thought of John’s casual ways and wondered if he would be more at ease a simple country squire and not born into noble blood. When he told the lads a joke, his lips curved with quick and easy humor. As he laughed, again she found her mind wandering. His lips were firm but the lower one carried sensual fullness. Would a kiss from his lips be filled with fire or drugging icy coolness?
John grinned as he caught her once again looking at him. Filled with sensual allure, his eyes were provocative. Vivienne couldn’t remember ever being looked at with such a sultry gaze. Like his mouth, his eyes implied things. Erotic things men and women did behind their bedchamber doors. When he reached for another of the ship’s pieces, her heart skipped a beat when John’s hand brushed hers.
“I’m enjoying this evening much more than I ever thought I would,” he said.
“The boys are a great joy to spend time with.”
“Yes,”… he drew out the word. “I am also enjoying time with the boys.” His gaze captured hers. “When you have a free moment, I would like to go over Graeme’s lessons.”
“Any time—”
A young man burst through the study door. “Lord Mitchell, come quick. You father’s collapsed. A stable hand found him and said he wasn’t breathing.”
John looked from the boys to her.
“Go. Do what you must,” she said. “Graeme will be fine. I will take him with Charlie and me. Is there anything I can do?”
“No,” John hurried out of the room behind the servant.
She hoped the stable boy was mistaken. Vivienne knew how in a second news can changes one’s life forever.
Vivienne went to the main kitchen, but no one was there. The kitchen was deserted and the pans from the dinner still sat on the back of the stove.
Something was terribly wrong.
Without letting on her fears to the boys, she collected a quick plate of cold meat and potatoes and hurried the boys up to her and Charlie’s room. She fed them, washed their hands and read the boys a story until they quickly fell asleep. Vivienne brushed hair off their foreheads and smiled.
Little devils during the day but angels at night.
There was a knock at the door. She answered it only to find John on the other side.
“I… came to see how Graeme is?”
“He’s sleeping. Please come in.” Vivienne shut the door, followed him in and sat next to him on the couch. “How is your father?”
He stared at her for a long moment before blurting out, “He’s dead.”
She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. From the feel of the house, she expected this news but it was quite still a shock to hear.
“Lord John, I am so sorry.” She put her hand on the sleeve of his coat.
He looked down and squeezed her fingers tight. “Lord John. Is that what I truly am now? I should feel something… but I don’t. The doctor said it was his heart. The one thing he never used, failed him.”
“It is a terrible blow.”
John drew in a shaky deep breath. “He hated me. I was the stupid son.”
“That you are not.”
He stared at the floor and his boots. “I feel no tears.”
“You will.”
“I mourned the loss of my brother, but I fear I cannot force myself to mourn the loss of my father.”
They listened to the crackle of the fire in the hearth. He pulled in a deep breath and finally said, “Graeme deserves more. I will honor my brother’s memory I will be a better man, not for my father, but for Graeme.”
“I have not known you long. But what I have seen, you are a good man.”
“No one has ever told me this.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand.
He brushed her hand with a kiss. His lips were warm and smooth. They lingered a little more than was proper. When he looked up, their eyes met. “Thank you for being here. I know this is most improper and against the rules of the house. I should not be alone here with you.”
“You needed to be with someone. It has been a most dreadful night. I am not a fine lady of the Ton. I am a widow with a son. I have no reputation to ruin.” She smiled. “You told me yourself , you are not one who believes in the rules of society, but now you are the lord of the estate. This will change.”
“No. Rules. Titles. I am still John. The house may call me lord, but you are still to call me John. I will not have that change. I need some form of normalcy that I can believe in.”
“If you need me. I will be here. All you have to do is ask.”
John checked in on the boys. “Would it be all right if Graeme stayed the night here? He is sleeping so peaceful, something I fear I will not.”
“Of course. You never need to ask permission to leave Graeme with me. I care for him as if he were another son.”
He studied her for a moment as if to check to see that she were telling the truth. He nodded, kissed her hand again, and closed the door behind him.
Vivienne leaned against the wall and clenched her fingers. The memory of John’s lips remained etched on her skin.
Chapter 4
Three wee
ks had passed since Lord Mitchell’s death. His funeral was grandiose with his body laid out in the town’s cathedral for all to see and thousands of flowers. Vivienne observed at the funeral, and now with the house staff, that no one seemed to terribly miss the elder Lord.
Pity. God rest his soul.
Had he treated friends, business colleagues, and staff the same wretched way he treated John? Was he cold and uncaring to everyone around him?
When she and Charlie took dinner in the main kitchen, the staff chattered. They liked John, but she’d never heard a kind word uttered about his father. They said the young Lord never spoke or acted cruel. As the new Lord of the estate, John raised their pay to fifteen shillings a day! An unheard of hefty sum. The elder lord hadn’t raised the staff’s wages in ten years and this was almost double the past amount. Along with vails from visitors, the staff acted as if they’d received the crown jewels or found a pot of gold in the stables.
Everyone, including herself, wore proper black mourning attire, but she found the ‘mourning’ mood of the house to be almost jubilant.
As the afternoon wore on, Vivienne tried to keep the boys’ attention focused on their English lessons. From the low sun in the sky, the small room where they sat was excessively warm. The boys held little interest in bookwork.
“When can I see my Uncle?” Graeme said, and stuck out his lip in a pout. “I have hardly seen him since grandpa pa died. Is he mad at me?”
Vivienne tossed her skirts to the side and knelt beside the boy. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Uncle probably thinks it’s my fault. Everyone dies around me. And now he doesn’t want to see me.” There were tears in the little boy’s eyes.
She pulled him against her. “Oh, Graeme. Never think that. None of this happened because of you.”
“Then why is uncle always gone?” When she didn’t answer quickly enough, he threw out his hands in a dramatic fashion. “He doesn’t want me either. No one wants me.”
She consoled Graeme and hugged him tight. When she looked over Graeme’s shoulder, Charlie stood beside them. He was crying too. She tucked her son under her other arm.
Charlie pulled back and patted his friend on the arm. “Graeme, I didn’t die and I’ll never die, I promise. I will be here and you can always be my friend. I don’t have a brother, so you can be my brother and my friend.”
“I can?” Graeme sniffed and rubbed his nose on his linen sleeve.
“Sure.”
Vivienne’s was very proud of her son but at the same time her heart broke. What a gallant thing for a young boy of six to say. Yes, John was right, Charlie’s father would have been proud. She felt a tear of her own slip free and skitter down her cheek.
“I have an idea.” She stood gaining composure and brushed off her skirt. “Why don’t we go and find your uncle. He can help us with your vocabulary list.”
“Can we work with him on the ship model?” Charlie asked exuberantly.
“Maybe, if you finish all your lessons, and you have permission, we will see.”
At the opposite end of the house, they found the study door cracked open. Vivienne rapped knuckles once.
“Go away,” a stern voice answered.
“I’m sorry. Lord John?’ She pulled the boys through the door behind her. “Graeme has asked to come and see you. I am sure you can spare a moment.”
She was shocked to see dark circles under John’s eyes and his hair a disheveled mess. He stood from behind the desk and walked toward them.
“Please,” she continued. She tried to keep the pleading tone from her voice, but John needed to understand the gravity of the situation. “Graeme has been asking about you.”
“I do not have the time—”
Vivienne cut him off, “Boys will you go and play for a moment so I can speak with Lord John… alone.”
“What is this about?”
“It’s about you. Graeme misses you. He’s barely seen you in weeks.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“I understand.” She took a calming breath and then said barely above a whisper so the boys would not overhear, “Graeme thinks you blame him for your father’s and your brother’s deaths?”
“What?” His eyes grew wide. “How could he possibly think—”
She put a hand on the sleeve of his coat. “He feels everyone around him dies and you haven’t seen him because of it.”
“Oh…my Lord.” John closed his eyes for a second before looking across the room at his nephew. “I never thought…” his voice faded.
“I know in our minds it does not make sense, but we are adults and he is only a child. Everyone grieves differently. It is the deduction Graeme’s formed. From what you told me, your father did not show compassion toward you, so I beg you sir, do not act the same with Graeme. He needs your commitment and if you can administer it, your love.”
He watched her for a moment then nodded and moved to the boys. To her surprise, he scooped both boys into his arms and bounced them on his hips before dropping them to their feet. “I need to work for a short time longer, but then I promise, I will stop. Go and play, but come back, and we will work on the ship. I’m putting the cannons on today.”
The boys whooped and ran at full speed out the French glass doors to the back lawn.
“Do you mind if I stay here until they return? I insisted if they came to see you, they needed to complete their lesson.”
“Rules.” He rolled his eyes but smiled. She wondered when the last time was he’d smiled?
John sat heavily behind the desk, jammed a hand under his chin, and sighed deeply.
Vivienne moved behind him and glanced out the windows find the boys. When she turned back, she noticed the business forms scattered across his desk from the mill. John lifted the quill and began to write. Two of the letters in the first word he wrote were backwards. As he attempted the second word, he cursed and threw the quill to skip across the desk’s wood surface. “This is hell,” he muttered. “I would rather chew needles.”
She glanced at the other records. All invoices had similar words she assumed he’d written, all with backward letters and malformed words. Vivienne started to say something, but the boys burst through the door, red cheeked and out of breath.
“Have we played long enough?” Charlie asked.
Vivienne answered, “Yes. Boys, I want you to sit at the table and finish our lesson.”
The boys let out a communal groan.
“Will you help us, Uncle?” Graeme said and handed John a sheet of paper. “Please?”
“The word the boys are working on is ran. Can you write it on the paper for Graeme and then use it in a sentence?”
John reluctantly picked up the quill and then scribbled the word. The N and the A were reversed and the N was backwards.
“You and Charlie quickly ran across the field,” John said and handed Graeme the paper.
John did as he promised and for the evening left his work behind. Each boy was able to put a cannon on the HMS Resolute complete with pea-sized black cannon balls. They couldn’t be happier.
She was troubled by John’s struggles with work, Vivienne asked one of the house staff to stay with the boys and sought John. She didn’t need to look far, he was in his study with the same pile of paperwork laid out before of him.
As she watched him from the door, she knocked. “I am sorry to bother you again.”
His eyes softened when he saw her. “Please, come and sit. I will not bite this time.” He gestured to a chair empty next to him, crossed his feet at the ankle, and sat back.
“I can only imagine how busy you have been the past weeks, but I am grateful for the time you spent tonight with Graeme. I saw an immediate lifting of his spirits.”
“Sometimes I need to be pulled from all of this.” He gestured to the piles of paper and ledgers.
Vivienne leaned forward and lifted the paper John wrote on earlier for the boys. “I have a question about when you write.”<
br />
“I barely write. Now you know the truth.” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “I can also barely read. I am stupid.”
“If you say you are ‘stupid’ one more time, I will be forced to slap you.”
He looked shocked at her words, but then grinned. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Do not tempt fate, sir. Lord or not, I will not tolerate this kind of self-belittling behavior from you or anyone. Please trust me, and tell me when you read and write, how do the letters appear?”
“Twisted. I know the words are not correct and I have been told this over and over… but…” he sighed. “That is the way I see the words.”
She scooted her chair close. “A few years back I was a governess for a boy who suffered a similar impairment. He was very bright, but when we did lessons, his eyes and ears saw and heard things… differently. Letters and words were jumbled.” She took out a clean sheet of paper and laid it between them. “Write this sentence: We spell words exactly as they sound.”
John took the quill and concentrated. He wrote: We spell wrds xatle az tha snd.
“Your brain told you what to write but processed it differently than the rest of us. The boy I worked with had a pattern. It was certain words and certain letters. He would write…” she took the paper, wrote, and then pointed to the sentence.
Wespellwordsexactlyastheysound.
She continued, “He bunched his words together. Did you have a governess or tutor who worked with you? Did they try and straighten this problem?”
“I had a governess for about a year, but then she told my father there was no hope and he let her go.”
“How old were you?”
He shrugged. “Six or possibly seven. Then I spent the rest of time at boarding schools. It was hell. I always struggled with reading. Math was usually not an issue, but with lectures or books… I was dreadful.”
“Maybe you didn’t have the right governess or teachers. You have a special learning issue that needs time to overcome. I will start the boy’s lessons earlier in the day and then come here. If you will allow it, we can work together on your invoices, billings or whatever you wish. I believe with diligent work, I can possibly help you read and write the letters you are troubled with.”
Redemption for a Rogue (The Regimental Heroes) Page 2
