“That was my wife’s. It was the only thing she knew how to do.”
“She produced two lovely children with you. You have to give her credit for that.”
For a moment his brow turned as black as thunder, then it eased into that now familiar dent between his brows. “A reluctant contribution to our marriage. She did not want children by me. I see by your face that surprises you.”
“I should not assume all women want children, though it does seem to be expected of us.”
“Do you?”
She smiled tightly, not her alluring society smile but her prim governess smile. “It takes more than wanting. There must be provision. I can barely take care of my mother. I would be ill-equipped to have children. Besides, I am not married and am not likely to be.” She said this to let him know that she really only wanted to be the governess, that the sham engagement was just that, a fiction.
“As to that, it takes more than money to raise children as I have proven.”
“But it is not too late. Henry is young. Charlotte is understanding.”
Wyle gave a harsh laugh and tossed off the rest of his wine. “And thank God for that. Do you know why I called you back today?”
“As with most things you do, I am in the dark. You didn’t suffer…”
He shot her a frank look. “What? An attack of conscience?”
“I was going to say a loss of reason from your head wound.”
Wyle coughed. “No, at least not that I recall.”
“Then from your quoting of my father, I lay your behavior down to the caprices of a soldier used to taking action even if it is risky.”
His smile seemed pained. “I called you back because dutiful, understanding Charlotte burst into my office and told me I was making a huge mistake for which she would never forgive me. That she and Henry were virtual prisoners both here and at Fair Oaks. It made me realize how ill done it was of me to leave them in the charge of servants while I went off to war.”
“Then you mean to sell out and remain with them?”
“It is unlikely I will be called back to duty. But if I am I trust I can leave them in your care.”
“But, and I point this out as a matter of form, I am a servant.”
“Oh, no.”
He rested his head on his fist and stared at her with that penetrating gaze that she imagined would make a subaltern check for smudges on his uniform. She refused to glance at her lavender dress.
Then he shook his head slowly. “I do not know what you are, Miss Greenway but you are no servant.”
She placed her glass carefully in the side table. “Would you like me to play for you until dinner?”
“You are the only person I know who retreats from an untenable position to the center of focus. Yes, I would like it of all things.”
When her fingers touched the keys, he realized he was not to be treated to light ballads. The chords of the music echoed off the oak paneling as though they were words trying to say something very significant to him if only he understood the language. Wyle had seated himself close to the piano prepared to be amused. He was not prepared to be stunned, to be touched. If only he had met this woman years ago when he was looking for a wife. But she would have been, what? Five years old? Still he had let his well-meaning relatives stampede him into marriage.
But then he thought of Charlotte and Henry. It did not do to regret your life, for to turn back the clock would lose him all the good things as well as Louisa’s tantrums, her homesickness and constant demands to be able to go to Paris in spite of the war. He thought she had marred his life forever but just at this moment, listening to the soft fall of Marian’s fingers on the keys, he could not even remember what his first wife looked like.
Marian played until Trumby opened the door to announce dinner but Wyle would far rather have listened to her than sit down to even the best of meals. On their way into the dining room he asked, “Will you play something else after dinner?”
“Yes, but I thought you might like to have the children come down for tea.”
“Of course. They would like your playing too. You will teach Charlotte the pianoforte?”
“She is eager to learn.”
Wyle seated her in the first chair to the left of his position at the head of the table. While they waited for servants to lay slices of capon and portions of the other removes on their plates, he could see Marian working up to a subject. It was the firmness of her mouth that gave her away. She compressed her lips when she was planning to say something.
She took a sip of wine and picked up her cutlery. “I was just thinking how nice it would be to have Charlotte dine with us. She could learn so much. I’m not sure why children are relegated to the schoolroom when dinner could be a time of profitable instruction.”
He knew why he would rather not have Charlotte present but it had nothing to do with his daughter. He also realized too late why Marian would like Charlotte here. Even the rougher manners of the Peninsula would not have provided for a single genteel lady to dine alone with an eligible male. The presence of the servants meant nothing for her reputation. Why had he not thought of it before?
He took a delaying sip of wine, wondering if it was too late to send for Charlotte tonight and was not surprised to hear someone at the door. Frobisher let himself into the dining room, drawing a stony stare from the butler.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Frobisher asked, staring in some confusion at Marian.
“Would it matter if you were?” Wyle countered.
Marian chuckled at Wyle’s comment but she sounded relieved. True, Frobisher added nothing to the situation as a chaperone. Possibly he made the evening worse. But to deny him a place at the table now would be ill-advised since he could not trust what Fro might say when in his cups. Tomorrow it would definitely have to be Charlotte.
Trumby came to attention. “Shall I set another place, sir?”
“No, let him eat off the cloth.”
The butler glared at Wyle and produced another place setting from the cupboard. He then served Frobisher and got a rousing thanks in return. Trumby then left them until the second course was needed.
“Are you going out tonight, Wyle?”
“No, I plan to stay in and listen to Miss Greenway while she plays for the children.”
“How dull.”
Marian choked.
“The staying in part,” Frobisher amended. “Not your playing.”
“You have not heard me play, Mr. Frobisher. How can you judge?”
The man took too large a gulp of wine and had trouble getting it down. “How can a music recital hold a candle to the opera?”
Marian smiled ever so slightly. It was in fact an admonishing smile. “If by the opera, you mean ogling the dancers in the ballet number, then no, I suppose I would not shine next to them.”
“You are making me sound like a toad,” he accused.
Wyle’s lips curled into a patient smile. “You are doing that yourself, Frobisher. You may dine with us and stay for the evening but you will watch your mouth around my children.”
“Wyle, you are becoming positively staid.”
“And about time. As Miss Greenway has reminded me, Charlotte and Henry have been without me enough of their lives.”
“I thought you meant to go back into action as soon as your leg mended.”
“News from the front is that the French are headed back across the Pyrenees. The war may soon be over.”
“You cannot leave the army. What about your friends?”
Wyle glared at him. “What about all my relatives?”
“You can dodge them much better in Europe than in England.”
“The trick is to seem to do what they want so they stop interfering.”
“Yes, I thought that fake engagement was one of my more brilliant ideas.”
Marian stared at him. “So it was your idea. I might have known.”
“Now see here—just a moment. Why has Wyle told you abo
ut our plan?”
Wyle sighed and put down his glass. “Because I assumed Miss Greenway was the actress you hired.”
“What? But how could you mistake a respectable governess for an actress. Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Marian failed to suppress a small snort of laughter.
Wyle winced. “Apparently.”
She turned to the lieutenant. “What were you thinking, Frobisher, by suggesting such a scheme? As soon as he breaks the engagement he will be right back where he started with the aunts interfering.”
“Yes but now he has you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“To governess the children, I mean.”
She shook her head. “That is not what you were thinking.”
“What am I supposed to think, the two of you here dining en famille, alone?” Frobisher waggled his brown eyebrows up and down and Wyle laughed.
Marian thought Wyle was three parts drunk and was embarrassed to have her indiscretion pointed out to her. If Wyle did not know it was improper for her to dine alone with him, then she had, which is why she was going to insist on Charlotte joining them.
“Well, whatever it was, put it out of your mind,” she said.
Wyle had been thinking during this lively exchange and finally interrupted.
“He’s right.”
“What?” Marian demanded.
“It does not look well for us to be dining alone.”
“Very well,” Marian said as she rose to her feet. “I will retire to the schoolroom.”
Wyle grabbed her hand to halt her flight, his touch gentle yet compelling. “Sit down, please. We have Frobisher for propriety tonight.”
“Frobisher?” she choked out but she did sit again.
“And tomorrow night we will have Charlotte and Henry dining with us.”
“We will?” Marian asked.
“Yes, it is the perfect solution.”
Frobisher stared at his friend. “You have some strange ideas about perfection.”
“But at least they are my ideas, not someone else’s put to me when I was in my cups and generally a wreck.”
“You were never like this during the war.” Frobisher went to the sideboard to replenish the wine in his glass.
“The war is over for me.”
“Tell me you won’t dig out that uniform and have your charger shod as soon as we are engaged again.” He sat back down and plunged into his meal.
“I tell you I won’t. Between the children and Fair Oaks, I have enough to handle.”
Frobisher grumbled through the rest of the meal but he did stay. When Marian withdrew to the drawing room to arrange music, Wyle rang and sent for the children, causing his butler’s eyebrows to get even more exercise.
Frobisher glared at Wyle. “What are you playing at?”
“What do you mean?” Wyle poured port into two glasses and handed one to his friend. Usually this would have silenced Fro but the man simply sniffed the liquor.
“You know what I mean. Are you planning to turn Miss Greenway into a light skirt?”
“Certainly not. In this case my intentions are honorable.”
“They had better be. If I mistake not she has a father in the cavalry who will call you out if they are otherwise.”
“Unfortunately it appears Major Greenway is either dead or captured.”
“Ah, so this is one of your charitable impulses.” Frobisher leaned back in his chair with satisfaction. “You are too soft-hearted, Wyle. Everyone knows that.”
“That is how it started out but I begin to see the wisdom of Aunt Alva’s views.”
Fro choked on the sip he had finally taken. “Your Aunt Alva, the one you are always dodging?”
“She says I need to get married again and I intend to. Miss Greenway just doesn’t know it yet.”
“And what makes you think your attentions will be welcome? She seems a frosty woman to me.”
“She is already invested in the welfare of my children. If I don’t make any fantastic blunders she might also come to like me.”
“But you can’t have it both ways. She can’t be your children’s governess and your fiancée.”
“Why not?”
Frobisher stared at him. “It will look like you seduced her.”
“But I cannot send her away now. The children need her.”
“Then you can never marry her.”
Wyle downed the rest of his port in one incautious gulp and immediately felt dizzy. Why did he argue with Fro. He never won. But was his friend right in this case? Perhaps he should consult Aunt Alva but the mere thought gave him such a shudder. He stood and invited Frobisher to the recital. To his surprise the man agreed.
* * * * *
Charlotte looked very grown up and Henry sleepy but they sat through one of Miss Greenway’s sonatas with rapt attention. When the tea tray arrived, Wyle glanced at Marian but she said, “Charlotte, you serve tea so prettily. Would you like to do it tonight?”
“I-I shall try not to spill any.”
“Not on your brother or Miss Greenway, at any rate,” Wyle joked. “But if you want to dump some on Frobisher or me that is completely fine.”
Charlotte laughed and it was like a bell tinkling. He was glad he’d hit on the right comment to put her at her ease. Wyle wondered how he could have let so many years pass without appreciating this child. Henry watched everything, so wide-eyed he almost forgot to eat his cake.
As soon as he had swallowed his tea, Frobisher left.
“How did I do?” Charlotte asked.
Marian smiled at Wyle and he said, “Perfect.”
She was right to prompt him. Charlotte needed to hear the word from his lips not hers. How odd. Marian Greenway had been in the house only a day and everything seemed completely changed. How was this possible?
He went to bed speculating on some hard truths. He wasn’t getting any younger. He was engaged to this woman as far as his relatives knew. All he had to do was put off breaking up with her. If she grew used to the idea of being engaged to him, perhaps she might agree to marry him.
And to think that last night he had been devising ways to get rid of her. Her acerbic comments had a certain calming effect on him and everyone else. And those eyes, like deep pools you could lose your soul in. When she was not pretending to be prim, her lips pouted lushly and made him want to kiss her troubles away and fold her in his arms forever. No matter how she tried to hide her beauty behind that cold stare she failed. Marian Greenway was a passionate loving woman and no lace cap could disguise her spirit.
Chapter Four
As they breakfasted in the schoolroom Marian contemplated what had happened with Wyle the day before. Now both the children would have Lord Wyle’s attention though Henry needed it even more than Charlotte right now. But she wondered if Wyle would be up to the plans she had made for today. The children talked of nothing but the day before.
“Will we get to come down again tonight?” Charlotte asked.
“You are to dine with us tonight, both of you.”
Henry choked on his muffin. “Both of us? Are you sure? The butler threatened to cut my head off the last time I broke a plate.”
“Yes and every night unless your father invites company and then I shall not dine with him either. Finish up, we have a big day ahead of us. Here is our schedule.”
They put their heads together over the sheet of paper.
“A riding lesson, the first thing? Yippee,” Henry said.
“Well, I hope so. First we have to convince your father. He does have four riding horses, doesn’t he?”
“He must have a dozen horses,” Henry chimed.
“Half of those are carriage horses,” Charlotte said. “But will he let us?”
“I have sent word to the stable to saddle three hacks for eight o’clock. If we just pretend this is normal, perhaps he will too.”
They had unearthed a red riding habit that more or less fit
ted Charlotte from one of Louisa’s old trunks. It would do until they could have one made for her. Marian wore her newer habit, the dark green one that was the same color as a rifleman’s uniform.
At precisely eight Marian and Charlotte descended the stairs in riding dress. Henry jumped down every other step until Marian reminded him that if he strained an ankle he would not get to ride.
To her surprise and delight there were five horses saddled and Wyle was standing at the head of one of them, a tall, hard-muscled gray. In her mind she assigned the sleepy hack to Henry, the sleek mare to Charlotte and the restless chestnut to herself. She had not wanted to ask about Wyle’s leg, whether it prevented him riding. She preferred to leave the option open to him to come if he was able. So not teaching the children up until now had been because of lack of time rather than ability? Or perhaps lack of thought.
As he lifted her into the saddle of the chestnut he said between gritted teeth, “I would appreciate a little warning when you plan an expedition.”
“It’s not an expedition. It’s a lesson and I plan on taking the children riding every morning it does not rain. Didn’t you read the schedule I left on the desk in your study?”
He stared at her, his mouth agape and finally she saw a resemblance to Henry.
“I must have mislaid it,” he finally said. “I only knew what you planned because my head groom does consult with me unlike some of my employees.
By now both Henry and Charlotte were mounted on exactly the horses she would have chosen for them. The gray brute Wyle mounted was definitely a leader. The chestnut mare under her she thought had some fire in her but she did not intend to let her show it today. It would not impress either Wyle or his children if she got herself thrown.
“Insofar as possible I think we should walk the horses today. Do you agree, Lord Wyle?”
“Oh, through the streets, yes. Once we get to the park, we’ll see.”
She noticed him switching the reins about in his hands and realized that the scar that ran between the thumb and forefinger on his right hand indicated an injury that would have been career ending for a cavalry man. Finally he put the reins for the curb bit in his strong left hand and the snaffle reins in his right. She recalled all her father’s war horses had been double bitted like this with one set of reins for braking and one for steering. It took courage to ride a hard-mouthed army horse with only one sound hand.
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