“I know,” Miss Stewart said quietly.
Daisy and Louis exchanged glances while Lottie was too preoccupied with her breakfast to pay any attention. Louis poked his sister, and she bat at his hand before folding her hands on the table in front of her. “Have you come a long way, Miss Stewart?”
Miss Stewart looked surprised at being addressed by the children, but her apprehension gave way to a smile. Hamilton was relieved; people did not often take to children unless they had them. Had she not been receptive to his children, he would not have sent her on her way, but it would have been difficult.
“A day’s travel from Lord Angus’s estate,” Miss Stewart said and then hesitated, as if unsure the children would know the distance she meant. Her eyes darted to Hamilton and then back to the children. She did not correct herself or ask them if they understood – something that impressed Hamilton. She was not treating his children as if they were stupid as people often did. “I am very grateful to your father for allowing me to stay.”
“It was the least I could do,” Hamilton said, dismissing her gratitude. It was not difficult to offer shelter to strangers. “I would not leave someone out in the snow.”
“Do you like to play?” Louis asked.
“Louis,” Daisy chastised, every inch the little lady already. “Miss Stewart has more important things to do than play.”
Miss Stewart’s cheeks were pink once again, but instead of addressing Hamilton, she turned to the children, something else that Hamilton appreciated. “It has been a long time since I have played anything.”
Louis’s eyes went large and round, as if he could not fathom a world in which someone didn’t play. “Would you like to?”
“Louis,” Hamilton said. “I am sure Miss Stewart would much rather spend her time elsewhere.”
Miss Stewart hesitated. “I would not mind playing,” she said gently. Then, with a quick intake of breath, she added, “Unless you do not wish me to, my lord.”
Hamilton was surprised but covered it well with a cough. Arabella was staring at him, amused, but he was practised at ignoring her. There was a sharp pang in his chest at Miss Stewart’s countenance, so much of her different from his wife, and yet some parts just the same. “I would not wish to inconvenience you.”
“It is no inconvenience, my lord,” Miss Stewart said, meeting his eyes without hesitation. “At home, I often lead the children in prayer while my father attends the service.”
Religion was clearly an important part of Miss Stewart’s life, and Hamilton was impressed. His children had a good focus on the church, but it had been difficult to find someone who would make the trek to the estate. They would often retreat to the chapel and do their own prayer.
“Well then, children,” Hamilton said, and Daisy and Louis both looked at him, eyes wide. “Perhaps if you eat your breakfast and get through your morning lessons, Miss Stewart will play a little with you.”
Both children immediately tucked into their food, Daisy pausing only long enough to prompt Lottie to do the same. Miss Stewart was looking at them with a small smile, and Hamilton guessed that she had none of her own.
When breakfast was done, all the plates cleared away by the staff, Hamilton folded his hands on the table, watching the nanny herd his children out of the room. Miss Stewart took her leave, bobbing her head once before retreating to her room.
“She is lovely,” Arabella said, brushing a lock of hair from her face.
“Enough, Arabella.” Hamilton ran a hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She is a guest for a day, two at most.”
Arabella looked sad when he took his hand away, reaching over and squeezing his arm. “It is all right to appreciate company, Hamilton. It causes no harm.”
“It has only been months,” Hamilton protested.
“Almost a year,” Arabella corrected gently. “Catherine would not expect you to remain alone forever.”
The sound of her name brought a burst of pain to Hamilton’s chest, and he breathed slowly. He did not expect it to stop hurting so soon, but he was often struck by thoughts of her, or memories that would cause him to pause and wait them out. She was dead, and yet she still filled so many places in his life.
“Still,” he said firmly.
Sighing, Arabella sat back in her chair, staring at the door. “Father will not be pleased that she is here.”
“I do not have to request his permission to invite someone into my home,” Hamilton said. As much as he loved his uncle, the man adhered to social standing and etiquette more than anybody else Hamilton knew. Even the men he had gone to school with, all holding titles, still allowed some lack of formality seep into their lives.
Arabella’s grin was expected. She and her father did not have the best relationship, and though Hamilton would never ask her to leave, the same could not be said for her father. Shaking her head, Arabella saw the look on his face. “He will not be in control forever, Hamilton.”
That remained to be seen.
Chapter 3
The Children:
So Like Their Mother
Abigail did not expect to be stranded at the Hamilton estate for long, but then the storm showed no signs of letting up. The snowdrifts were too much for the carriage to work through, so she resigned herself to staying for a few more days. Arabella had been quick to offer her some clothes, things she had not worn for an age, and Abigail took them gratefully, though they were much grander than she was used to.
Hamilton’s children were delightful. Lottie was a beautiful child, already talking and taking a shine to the newcomer, startling both her nanny and Abigail. Louis was just like his father, proud but happy, determined to do well in his lessons and take after his papa. Daisy was a little lady already and Abigail could sense a maturity about her that had more to do with her circumstances.
Arabella told her about Catherine Hamilton that first morning, and Abigail had been heartbroken for the earl. To lose his wife and the mother of his children must have been incredibly difficult and raising them alone even more so. Many fathers would have sent their children away, and though Abigail did not know the circumstances why, she could not deny that she was impressed. It took a strong man to take on the duties of an earldom and to raise his children alone.
The first couple of days passed quickly, with Abigail splitting her time between the children and reading in the library. Often Hamilton would come and spend time with the children, sharing looks with her, and talking to her quietly about her home.
“Your father sounds like a wonderful clergyman,” he said, Lottie clutching at his leg and talking in stilted sentences about her book. Abigail had no doubt that she would be reading for real soon. The children were extremely perceptive and intelligent.
Abigail was seated on a small chair, Louis next to her scratching away at his paper. The children had a governess, but she had been kept away from the house by the storm. Abigail was no substitute, she did not know many things, but Louis had asked her to sit with him, regardless.
“Thank you,” Abigail said, looking over Louis’s shoulder to make sure he was studying. From across the room, there was a mistake in the song Daisy was currently playing on the piano, but she swiftly corrected herself.
Hamilton looked at his daughter. “I fear they are not getting the full benefit of this without their governess.”
“They are doing wonderfully,” Abigail said. “The fact that they study without her is a testament to them and to you.”
It was rare that Abigail saw a smile on Hamilton’s face, but he did so, leaning down to help Lottie with her book. Abigail turned her attention fully to Louis, Daisy’s song playing through the room.
“I was wondering,” Hamilton said, gesturing for the children to finish up so that they could head down for lunch. “I was hoping you would help the children when it comes to prayer. There is little opportunity to have someone come and give a service with this snow.”
“Of course,” Abigail said immediat
ely, though she only knew what her father had taught her. Her faith had never led her wrong, and though she believed Hamilton was doing an amazing job, it could not hurt to help the children with their prayers.
While the older children were in their lessons, and Lottie was down for a nap, Abigail would explore the house, bypassing the second floor. She did her best to stay out of Hamilton’s way and also avoid his uncle.
The Honourable Douglas had come to her on the second day, interested in their guest. Though he had been polite and approachable, something about him had Abigail ill at ease. She had met many people through the church and her father’s work, and she had learned to trust her instincts about people. Douglas had given her no cause to think such things, and almost as if she could hear her mother’s chastising voice in her head, Abigail remained polite but did not share his company when she could avoid it.
Thankfully, he seemed just as reluctant to talk with her, and Abigail was often left alone in the library. There were so many books lining the shelves! Though there was a bookseller back home, it had nowhere near the wealth of information that Hamilton possessed in his home.
One evening, Douglas retired to his rooms for work, Arabella and the children started playing their instruments, and Hamilton was somewhere about the house. Abigail once again headed for the library. Sinking into one of the large armchairs, she took out a book written by one of her favourite authors, smoothing out the pages.
She was a few chapters in when the door opened, and Hamilton entered, eyes widening when he saw her. “My apologies.”
“You don’t have to leave, my lord,” Abigail said, before Hamilton could exit. “This is your home, I would not see you take your leave of a room because of me.”
“Nonsense,” Hamilton said, not unkindly. “I have given you freedom to go where you wish.”
Abigail smiled, fingers curling over the edge of the book. “I am very grateful.” After a brief hesitation, she ducked her head. “Your children are very intelligent and lovely.”
Hamilton’s smile, when she looked up, was soft and kind. “Thank you very much. They are so like their mother.”
The pain on his face was evident, so Abigail twisted in the seat, placing the book on the table. “She sounds like she was a lovely woman. Your children are sad but not lacking for love and attention.”
Hamilton looked at her, searching for something, though Abigail could not say what. He approached one of the other armchairs, shifting a cushion before taking a seat. He was even more handsome by firelight than he was during the day. His eyes were fascinating, the slope of his jaw even more so. “Thank you for saying that. It has been incredibly difficult.”
Startled that he was discussing such a thing with her, Abigail covered it swiftly with a nod and a smile. Her father’s congregation often came to her to talk, and her mother had always claimed she had a natural empathy that drew people to her. “You have three wonderful children.”
The conversation continued, and Abigail found herself laughing and talking more than she had in a long time. When the children came in to say goodnight, Arabella informed them that the nanny would be putting them to bed. Glancing between them, Arabella smiled, and Abigail did not know what to make of it, but she was quick to herd the children back out.
“I apologise that you cannot yet leave,” Hamilton said, after a silence.
Not wanting him to think her ungrateful – she did want to leave, but his house was beautiful, and he had been so kind – she met his eyes slowly. “It is not an inconvenience to be here.”
“That is…” Hamilton started, shifting forward on his seat. Their armchairs were close, she realised, and though it wasn’t proper, she did nothing to move away from him. “I am glad to hear it.”
Abigail’s heart was fluttering in her chest, and she did not know what was happening, only that Hamilton was reaching for her, taking one of her hands in his. His hands were soft but strong, and she could see her fingers shaking. That seemed to snap his attention away from her face, and he abruptly dropped her hand.
“I apologise,” he said, voice wavering. “I should not have –”
“Please do not be sorry,” Abigail said, throat tight. She grabbed the book from the table, and unable to meet his eyes, bobbed her head respectfully. “I must retire, my lord. I hope that tonight has not changed your opinion of me.”
“Of course not,” Hamilton said immediately. His expression was confused, but Abigail did not think it was directed towards her.
Heart still racing, Abigail took her leave and hurried up the stairs towards her room. Though Hamilton had been the one to take her hand, she could not deny that she had almost been waiting for it. He was an intelligent man, and he seemed dedicated to his children and to his estate, but she would be leaving as soon as the snow receded enough for her to do so.
It would be stupid to get attached to anyone in the house, especially the earl himself.
Chapter 4
The Honourable
Douglas
The Honourable Douglas was the brother of Hamilton’s father. He had moved into the estate when Hamilton’s parents died, leaving him the sole charge of Hamilton – and Hamilton’s fortune. He had been a rock to Hamilton through his childhood and later through the death of his wife. It was for those reasons that Hamilton was always willing to listen to his advice.
“My dear boy,” Douglas was saying, standing in front of Hamilton’s desk, hands clasped behind his back. “Clergyman he may be, but that does not preclude his wife from making mistakes.”
Hamilton stared down at the letter Douglas had produced. He was reluctant to believe its contents, considering how well his children were taking to Miss Stewart and how respectful and intelligent she was. “It is difficult to believe.”
“I understand,” Douglas said, expression apologetic. “I would not say anything, if it were not for the time she spends with the children.”
“What would you have me do?” There was no requirement that Hamilton listen to his uncle, but he could hear him out. The letter detailed an account of Miss Stewart’s mother disgraced in her community, and her father clawing his way back up into social standing, though the stigma from his wife’s mistakes remained. It would make sense that Abigail was still unmarried given her mother’s circumstances.
“I am not a stupid man,” Douglas said, planting his hands on the desk. “I can see how much you are drawn to her. It would not do well to get attached to someone who would do nothing for your children’s futures.”
Fury blossomed in his breast, but Hamilton couldn’t say why it bothered him. Douglas had always done his best to protect the children, but Miss Stewart’s temperament was a credit to her. Still, he could not deny the contents of the letter and sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “I appreciate you bringing this to my attention.”
Douglas gave him a terse nod and took his leave, shutting the door of the study behind him. Hamilton folded up the letter and placed it in his desk, not wanting to look at it. The letter had been sent by a trusted friend of the family, someone Hamilton had no reason to doubt. Miss Stewart’s status – though she was no more responsible for her parents’ actions than he – was not one that would be favourably received by those around him.
Hamilton decided a walk was in order. There was no chance of him going outside, especially given the weather. The house was large enough to give him thinking time without running in to anybody, and he made sure to skirt around the rooms that the children frequented. Miss Stewart would no doubt be with them, and he wouldn’t know what to say to her. Until the storm waned there would be no opportunity to confirm the contents of the letter though Hamilton didn’t doubt that his uncle was telling the truth.
Arabella was in the sitting room picking apart some needlework when he passed, and Hamilton had to pause in the doorway.
“I did not think I would ever see you so intent on your needlework, cousin.”
“Hmm,” Arabella said with vehemence, stabbin
g the needle angrily into the fabric. Hamilton had seen his daughter doing needlework a few times, and he was certain it didn’t involve quite so much force.
Approaching the back of the main settee, he ran his hands over the golden trim. It had been one of his wife’s favourite places to sit, and it had taken him a while to enter the room, let alone touch the furniture. “You usually only get like this when you are mad at your father.”
Arabella sighed, placing the needlework on her knees. “We had a fight this morning.”
“About?” Hamilton asked. He was surprised. Douglas and Arabella had a difficult relationship that he wanted no part in getting between, but it wasn’t often they fought outright.
“It does not matter,” Arabella said with a tight smile. It wasn’t genuine, but Hamilton let it be. If Arabella wanted him to know, she would tell him. Picking the needlework back up, Arabella gripped the needle with a little less anger and looked up at him with a much warmer smile. “Have you seen Miss Stewart today?”
“No,” Hamilton said immediately, straightening up. “Why should I have?”
Arabella shook her head, looking nonchalant, but Hamilton had grown up with her enough to know it was false. “No reason. She has definitely taken to the children.”
Hamilton did not want to have this conversation with her, not with the letter so fresh in his mind. He tapped his fingers against the settee and then turned on his heel, bidding her goodbye. Arabella laughed softly but did not ask him to stop. Hamilton kept up his pace until he was approaching the library, which was blessedly empty.
His days would usually be occupied by work, but with the storm raging outside, being housebound left him with little to do beyond reading and interacting with his children. Now that he had taken up working again, being with his children had taken a back seat. Hamilton enjoyed having them around, but he was more than aware, thanks to family and friends, that it wasn’t proper to want them around all the time.
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