Eleanor Fitzherbert’s Christmas Miracle (Dangerous Lords Book 5)

by Maggi Andersen

  “We shall arrive in time for luncheon,” Hayworth said, smiling at her. He had the most attractive smile, his green eyes fringed with dark lashes.

  “Are we stopping soon to eat?” asked the hopeful voice behind them.

  “Yes.” Eleanor smiled at Hayworth who winked.

  “Don’t expect too much from today, Nash,” Eleanor said. “It might be the wrong place, or we may not find any evidence of your family ever having lived here.”

  “The air smells nicer here,” Nash said in a small voice.

  “Yes, it’s because there are lots of trees and wild flowers,” Eleanor said, her heart squeezing in her chest. Was it foolish of her to believe she could move to the country and take Nash with her? The speculation which would arise wouldn’t worry her, but she would hate any gossip directed at Hugh and Georgina. She could imagine it already. Was he her child or Gordon’s? Had he been born out of wedlock seven years ago? It would be hard to prove otherwise as they had visited Gordon’s uncle in Scotland around that time, when Gordon was in better health.

  She pushed away her thoughts. How lightly the reins rested in Hayworth’s long fingers, the grays obeyed even his smallest gesture. “Your horses are well trained,” she said.

  “I don’t get to do this often enough, these days,” he said with a surprisingly boyish grin.

  “It’s a straight road right up to that big oak,” Nash pointed. “You might let ’em go, milord.”

  “I might indeed.” Hayworth slapped the reins. The horses gathered speed in perfect unison.

  The wind tugged at Eleanor’s hat as she turned to view Nash. His little face was vivid with joy.

  She would die rather than let him down.

  *

  Mark glanced at the lady beside him. Eleanor’s first thought was for the boy. How terribly sad that she had no child of her own. There was no telling whether this escapade would end well, and he wanted it for Nash as much as she did. But mere wishes didn’t always equate with success.

  He had slowed the horses and after negotiating the bend, they arrived in Old Bexley village, a cluster of houses and farms. Toward the southern fringe of the village, near the parish church, a large weatherboard mill was built across River Cray, framed by two weeping willow trees growing on either bank. Ducks swam about through the long graceful green fronds. It was a pretty place.

  “Do you remember this, Nash?” Mark asked.

  “Yes!” Nash’s voice rose in excitement as he leaned out of the curricle. “That’s the mill where grandpa worked.”

  “We must thank Lord Hayworth for discovering it was Bexley and bringing us here, Nash,” Eleanor said.

  “No need. I am enjoying this, too,” Mark said, “Especially the company.” He was rewarded with a becoming blush. “There’s an inn. Shall we partake of some luncheon and decide what next to do?”

  When seated in the dining room, they ordered a hearty meal for Nash whose stomach seemed to be forever empty. Probably because he’d been desperately hungry in the past. While he and Eleanor ate lightly, Mark watched Nash eat a pile of bread and butter and a plate of onion soup, as if it was his last meal on earth. He then tackled a rice pudding.

  “Where to first, Nash?” he asked the boy.

  Nash swallowed and took a sip of milk. “Grandpa’s house.”

  “Any idea where it is?”

  He nodded. “It’s along that road we just passed. I remember Grandpa taking me in his cart.”

  “That’s helpful,” Eleanor said. “Perhaps the current owners can tell us more.”

  After luncheon, they rode out along the road with Nash directing them. With a couple of false starts, he ordered Mark to pull up the curricle beside a modest cottage. The old stone house was surrounded by a few acres of farmland, kept in neat order.

  Mark helped them down. “I’ll stay with the horses, Eleanor, you take the boy in.”

  “Very well.” She was forced to pick up her skirts and almost run to catch up with Nash who was halfway to the door.

  Mark admired her slender form in her lilac pelisse, as she reached Nash, said something to him, and tidied his hair. A woman in a white cap and apron answered her knock. After a brief conversation, Eleanor and Nash disappeared inside.

  As he walked the horses up and down, Mark tried to come to grips with what he wanted for his future. He was drawn to Eleanor in a way he hadn’t experienced in years. Besides finding her extremely beguiling, he had tremendous respect for her. But he could not ignore his desire for children. He wanted a family, this trip today made him even more aware of it. He’d felt a little like a husband with his wife and child on a Sunday outing.

  The more he saw of Nash, the surer he was that the boy had come from good stock. Even if his father had wiped his hands of Nash, there might be other relations in the area who’d lost contact with him.

  He studied Eleanor’s beautiful, sensitive face as she walked down the path toward him. She did not look optimistic.

  As she reached him, Nash disappeared around the corner of the cottage.

  “He has permission to visit the donkey,” she explained.

  He grinned. “So this wasn’t a wild goose chase?”

  “It was once his grandfather’s farm. As he said, his mother left the area after her father died.”

  “And the boy’s father?”

  She shrugged her slim shoulders. “They couldn’t say if she was married. Annie used to work at Hall Place. It’s a school for young gentlemen a few miles downriver from here.”

  “Then we shall go there next.”

  She nodded but cast him a doubtful look.

  “You’re not giving up?”

  She frowned at him. “Of course not. But this seems doomed to failure, don’t you think? I’m worried about how Nash will handle the disappointment.” She bit her lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. “He has been through so much.” Her voice trembled, revealing how deeply she felt.

  “Don’t be such a doubting Thomas,” Mark said with a smile, hating to see her so upset.

  “But I’m not. That’s unfair,” she murmured. Her cheeks had gone quite pink.

  “You look very pretty when your dander is up.” It was a poor attempt at making her feel better, and he almost apologized. But it was true, she was lovely, and he couldn’t look away.

  She glared at him and spun away so quickly, she almost lost her footing.

  Mark put out a hand to help her, his fingers curling around her upper arm. The briefest of moments passed as he fought the overwhelming urge to draw her to him and failed. She came silently, without protest. He raised her chin with a finger, then dipped his head to kiss her.

  Eleanor made a strangled protest against his mouth and then gave in to the kiss, a hand clutching his shoulder. Through the fog filling his mind, he’d consented to a mere touch of her lips, but was unprepared for the fire licking along his nerve endings warming every part of him. His hands came around her narrow back to hold her more firmly against him. “Eleanor!” he whispered into her hair.

  A cry made them start. They separated quickly, both breathing fast as Nash ran across to them.

  “We must talk, Eleanor,” Mark murmured.

  Nash’s vivid blue eyes were laughing, his mouth curling up in delight. “Sampson remembered me!”

  Eleanor attempted to rearrange her hat which had fallen onto her back held by its yellow ribbons. “That’s wonderful, Nash.”

  “Shall we go on?” Mark was pleased to sound calm as he assisted them into the curricle. He suddenly wanted so much he’d hadn’t been aware of until now, and his heart seemed to swell in his chest.

  He wanted this lady, and unless he was completely unpracticed in the art of seduction, he thought she wanted him, too.

  Chapter Six

  Eleanor resolutely refused to look at Hayworth as he drove them along the road toward Hall Place. Her heart had yet to settle into its normal rhythm. He remained thoughtful, answering Nash’s questions about phaetons and racehorses whi
le making no attempt to draw her into the conversation.

  Why had he kissed her? It was not as if he wished to marry her. It was obvious how much he wanted children. And he didn’t seem the sort of man to approach a widow for a casual liaison. Two men had put such unwelcome suggestions to her, but they were married.

  She sighed. What must Hayworth think of her? She’d made no attempt to push him away. In fact, she’d kissed him back. While she couldn’t blame him when she’d obviously encouraged him, she would be disappointed if that was his intention. She’d been enjoying his company, and drawn to him, she’d lost her usual sense of caution. She’d began to want, to hope, for something she’d considered buried. A husband, and the possibility, however slight, of a child.

  They drove beside a high-stone wall beyond which smoke belched from chimneys of a rambling Tudor brick manor house. Hayworth guided his horses through the gates where neatly clipped yew hedges bordered the drive.

  “This be it,” Nash cried. “Where Ma worked.”

  Three boys, some not much older than Nash, were playing shuttlecock on the lawn. They paused to stare at them as they continued along the raked driveway. Hayworth pulled the grays up in the turning circle in front of the entry.

  The boys hurried over. “I say, sir, what prime cattle,” a gangling youth said, his gaze on the horses.

  “Can I rely on one of you young gentlemen to take special care of my horses? If you’ll walk them, I’ll let you take the reins for a short ride around the drive when I return,” Hayworth said.

  “You can rely on us, sir!” the youth said promptly while the others nodded.

  Mark helped Eleanor down and tossed the reins to the tallest lad. Her arm in his, they walked to the front door.

  Nash frowning, trailed behind.

  Eleanor turned. “What is the matter, Nash?”

  “They’re nobs,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t trust ’em with Sampson the donkey.”

  “Nash.” Hayworth released her arm and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I am a nob; Lady Eleanor’s father was a nob. There’s a chance even you have a nob or two in your family. And one thing I can say about us nobs, we value our horses and take excellent care of them.”

  Silenced, Nash dragged his feet after them to the door which was opened by a wide-eyed maid in a mobcap.

  When Hayworth explained who they were, she bobbed a curtsey. “I shall tell Madame you are here.”

  A moment later, a middle-aged lady in black appeared with a lorgnette hanging on a chain on her ample bosom. Her thin cheeks were tinged with pink. “Milord, milady. I am Mrs. Kirkwood. My husband is the headmaster here. Kirkwood is away at present. Please, do come into the parlor.”

  They were ushered into a soberly furnished room. Eleanor declined the offer of tea while Haywood explained their wish to trace some of Nash’s relatives.

  Mrs. Kirkwood stared at Nash. “He is nothing like his mother,” she said. “Annie had brown hair and eyes.”

  “You remember Annie?” Eleanor asked surprised.

  “I do. She did our mending, exquisite stitches. But I’m afraid I have no idea who the boy’s relatives would be.”

  Aware of Nash alert beside her, Eleanor leaned forward. “Do you recall why Annie left her position here?”

  She thinned her lips. “I shouldn’t like to say, although I have my suspicions. She gave notice without warning and I had trouble finding someone to replace her.”

  “Are there any staff still working here who knew Annie?” Hayworth asked.

  “Yes, my lord. Maud would remember Annie.”

  Maud answered the bell. The maid wasn’t young, about Eleanor’s age. Scrunching her apron, she eyed them nervously.

  “Lady Eleanor and Lord Hayworth wish to inquire about Anne Simkin, Maud,” Mrs. Kirkwood said.

  “Please sit down, Maud,” Eleanor said. “Thank you, Mrs. Kirkwood. We shan’t keep you from your work.”

  Mrs. Kirkwood looked regretful, but left without comment.

  The red-haired maid sat upright in the chair, her gaze resting on Nash. “This is Annie’s son?”

  “Yes. We hope you can tell something that will help us find his family.”

  Maud hesitated. “I shouldn’t like to speak of it in front of the boy.”

  “Shall we walk to the river, Nash?” Hayworth asked. “Lady Eleanor will tell you what she learns later.”

  With a backward glance, Nash followed Hayworth from the room.

  When the door closed, Maud turned to Eleanor. “It would upset Nash to hear the truth, my lady.”

  “Why, Maud?” Although she’d expected something unpleasant, Eleanor was still chilled and apprehensive.

  “Annie were a decent girl, lived with her father.” Maud frowned. “But she was pretty and caught the eye of one of the boys’ fathers. He gave her flowers and took her up in his carriage. Said he was a widower and would come for her. But he never did. Went away and left her in the family way. Annie asked me to say nothing. I used to slip away to give her small things for the baby, and she feared it might get me into trouble.” Maud narrowed her eyes. “Burton his name was. I’d never forget that or his face.”

  Eleanor leaned forward. “Did his son remain at the school after this happened?”

  “No. Frederick was taken away soon after.” She started. “Where is Annie now? Is she all right?”

  “I’m afraid she passed away a few years ago.”

  Maud jumped up. “Oh no. Poor Annie.” She fumbled for her handkerchief. “Poor boy.”

  Eleanor rose, too. She patted the maid’s thin back. “Thank you for telling me this, Maud. You have been extremely helpful.”

  “Mrs. Kirkwood knows nothing about this, my lady.”

  “And she won’t learn it from us, Maud. Rest assured.”

  “Thank you.” Maud looked relieved as she curtsied. “Annie would be pleased you’re lookin’ after him.”

  When they left the room, Mrs. Kirkwood appeared in the hall. “I hope Maud was able to help you.”

  “She was. Thank you, Mrs. Kirkwood.”

  “You found the boy’s relatives?”

  “We have more to do to find them, I’m afraid.”

  Mrs. Kirkwood nodded. If she wished to learn more, she didn’t ask.

  Eleanor walked over the lawns toward the river. The sun shone through a filigree of leaves above her head. She had found out who Nash’s father was, but it gave her no joy.

  *

  After they climbed back in the carriage, Mark had not been able to discuss it with Eleanor without Nash overhearing, but he could see that what she’d learned had unsettled her.

  Eleanor smiled at Nash. “I have been given a name, Nash. But it is far from certain that this is your father. We shall have to investigate further. Did you ever hear your mother mention a Mr. Ralph Burton?” she asked him as they began their journey back to London.

  Nash shook his head. “When Annie got sick, she told me dad was a baron’s son. She wrote him a letter. But we never heard anythin’.”

  Eleanor heaved a sigh. “Oh, Nash!” She held out her arms to him.

  Nash climbed over the seat into the front and she drew him onto her lap.

  Nash looked sheepish. “I guess I forgot to tell you that. What is a baron?”

  “He’s a nob, Nash,” Mark said, winking at Eleanor. He gazed at the boy resting his head on her breast, a little envious. She stroked Nash’s hair.

  “Don’t worry, lad, Lady Eleanor will sort this out, and even if we don’t find your father, you will be safe.”

  “I want to live with you,” Nash said in a sleepy voice.

  “His lordship and I are not married, Nash,” Eleanor said.

  Mark turned his attention to the horses. The boy was exhausted. No sense in continuing to upset him. It would have to wait until he and Eleanor were alone. She obviously thought the same, for she told Nash to rest, then fell silent.

  When Mark looked around again, Nash was slumped down fast asleep in her
arms. “We’ve tuckered him out,” he said.

  Her anxious gaze met his. “Have we done the right thing bringing him here today? It has been most unsettling for him.”

  He hoped his smile was reassuring. “Couldn’t have done it without his help, now could we?”

  “I suppose not,” she said softly. “Hayworth…”

  He smiled. “Call me Mark, Eleanor. We are surely on first-name terms now.”

  “I hope you don’t think…” she began.

  “I can hardly think of anything right now,” he said, interrupting her, his eyes flickering to her mouth, “but wanting to kiss you again.”

  She flushed pink and put a hand to her lips. “Mark, I am not looking for a lover.”

  He slowed the pace of the horses before swiveling to face her. “You believe me to be after a casual affair?” He groaned. “Of course you would think that. I have hardly wooed you in the proper manner. Forgive me, Eleanor. My regard for you has become something deeper. I realized it today, which took me by surprise.” He turned back to the road. “But I don’t regret the kiss, Eleanor. Dash it all, we can’t talk of it here.”

  “Are we home?” Nash roused and gazed around sleepily.

  “Not far now,” Mark said.

  “Eleanor.” He raised his gaze to find her flushed and confused. “May I speak to you when we reach London?”

  She nodded, but her expression made him uneasy. The strength of his feelings surprised him. After Susanne died, he’d trifled with agreeable women without his heart becoming involved. Now, he’d fallen head over heels and behaved like a callow youth. Was the lady going to refuse him?

  Chapter Seven

  After Nash was taken up to the schoolroom, Eleanor sat with Mark in the small salon. She watched him stretch out his long legs in the armchair and observe her. Her heart was beating unnaturally fast as she tried to read his expression. He looked determined and…very handsome.

  “Would you like tea or coffee, or wine, perhaps?” she asked in an unsteady voice.

  “No, thank you. Eleanor.” He rose to sit beside her on the sofa and took her hand. “I must explain myself. I’ve decided to marry again.”