A Match for Mother

by Mona Gedney, Kathryn Kirkwood, Regina Scott

  Adam nodded, brightening over hiccupped sobs. James looked pleased at the idea. John narrowed his eyes. “Can’t we just leave it for the servants?”

  Daniel put an arm around his shoulder and guided him farther into the room. “Never leave your mistakes for another man to fix, John. Besides, I’d wager the three of you know far better what a proper knight should look like than our friend Mr. Evenson here.”

  “Assuredly, sir,” Evenson obligingly agreed.

  “There, you see? We’ll work here for a bit and when we’re done, Mr. Evenson will have tea and cakes awaiting in the withdrawing room.”

  Luckily, Sir Cedric was far easier than the infamous Humpty Dumpty to put back together again. The wooden frame on which the various pieces of armor had been hung had merely been tipped over. Once righted, the boys were able to identify the pieces and hang them back into place, with much merriment as gauntlets were mixed with stockings and the breastplate with the helmet. By the time they retired to the withdrawing room, they were in a much happier mood.

  “This surely is a fine, big house,” John commented as they sat munching on the cakes Evenson had brought them, their voices echoing in the large, drafty room. “Of course, it isn’t quite as fine as Colonel Hathaway’s, is it, James?” James frowned. “Colonel Hathaway?” He jumped suddenly, and Daniel had the distinct impression that John had pinched him under cover of the tea tray. “I ... I’m not sure who you mean, John.”

  Daniel smiled at the boy’s attempt to tell the truth and still support his brother.

  “You remember Colonel Hathaway,” John insisted. “Mother’s beau?”

  Daniel found he had little interest in hearing about Cynthia’s latest conquest, and he cleared his throat in a warning to change the subject.

  “Mother has a bunch of bows,” Adam piped up.

  “That’s right, Adam,” John encouraged, casting a sidelong look at Daniel but ignoring the obvious hint. “And her favorite is the Colonel.”

  Adam frowned, but John pushed another cake onto his plate, and he turned his attention to attacking it eagerly.

  Probably another charming military man, Daniel thought, but the bitterness of the thought surprised him.

  “In fact,” John declared boldly, “Colonel Hathaway is probably going to be our new father.”

  The last bite of cake was suddenly hard for Daniel to chew. James choked on his own piece. Adam’s blue eyes widened.

  “He is,” John insisted, somewhat belligerently, Daniel thought. “I heard Uncle Jonathan say Mother had to marry. He doesn’t have the blunt to keep us all, isn’t that so, Mr. Daniel?”

  “I’m sure your uncle can care for you as long as needed,” Daniel assured him, although he knew how strapped Jonathan must be with four extra mouths to feed. The smaller Kinsle estate had never been prosperous, and what little had been left, Jonathan had poured into his library on inheriting. He had hardly expected his sister, who hadn’t been home in nearly ten years, to suddenly appear with three nephews he hadn’t known he possessed.

  “I don’t recall whether I like Colonel Hathaway,” James remarked thoughtfully.

  “Oh, he’s all right,” John shrugged. “I daresay he’ll be gone as much as Father was. And even when he is in the country, he’ll be out at his club. We won’t see him much.”

  “Mother won’t like that,” Adam pouted.

  “Mother doesn’t have a choice,” John informed him. “She has to marry whoever asks her. Uncle Jonathan said so.”

  The conversation was definitely unsuitable for young gentleman, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was suitable for his own hearing. But he wasn’t their father, and the best he could do was rattle the dishes on the tea tray to focus their attentions elsewhere.

  “Poor Mother,” James sighed, ignoring him.

  “Poor us,” John amended. “Father may not have been home much, but at least he loved us. We won’t be so lucky this time.”

  Adam’s bottom lip trembled, but he sucked it in manfully as he slid down from the leather chair to the Aubusson carpet. “Colonel Hathaway might love us.” When John scowled at him, he stuck out his chin. “He might! We’re lovable, aren’t we, Mr. Daniel?”

  Something constricted in the vicinity of Daniel’s heart. “You are indeed, my lad, all three of you.”

  “If you were our father I daresay you wouldn’t leave us for some silly club,” James asserted with a sniff.

  “All fathers need time to themselves,” Daniel tried to explain to them. “But I’m sure whoever is lucky enough to be your new father will want to spend time with you.”

  Adam had wandered closer to him and now climbed happily into his lap. “Why can’t you be our father, Mr. Daniel?” He should have seen it coming. The spark in John’s eyes told him the conversation had been manipulated in just this direction. James and Adam were waiting eagerly for his answer. He’d have to pick his words carefully if he were to keep from depressing them further.

  “Any man would be proud to be the father of three such fine, smart boys,” he assured them.

  It was obviously not enough. Adam frowned. “Then why don’t you ask Mother?”

  Daniel kept a determined smile on his face. “Well, your mother and I have known each other since we were children, Adam, but we’ve never been particularly attached to each other.”

  “But she’s awfully pretty,” Adam argued.

  “And she has a pleasant disposition,” James asserted.

  “And she can bake better cakes than this,” John muttered, setting the confection firmly on his china plate.

  Daniel glanced around at their earnest faces. The idea was too farfetched to go any farther. “Well, gentlemen, I’m quite flattered by this regard, but I assure you your mother wouldn’t have me.”

  “Don’t see why not,” James replied. “You’re a much better choice than this Colonel Hathaway fellow. And you like us.”

  Daniel ran his hand back through his hair. Why couldn’t he seem to get them off this subject? Was some part of him actually entertaining the notion that he could court and win a beauty like Cynthia Kinsle? She’d laugh him out of the house. “Truly, my lads,” he insisted. “Your mother and I would never suit.”

  John’s frown was more of a pout. “Why do you both keep saying that? Mother’s the mother and you’d be the father. You just need to explain that to her.”

  “It’s hardly that simple, John. Surely your mother would expect a gentleman to court her properly.” He realized he wasn’t convincing anyone in the room, including himself, and hurriedly added, “I wouldn’t even know what to say to her.”

  John was quick to reply, reinforcing Daniel’s opinion that the boy was masterminding this affair. “You need to visit her at Uncle Jonathan’s. Talk about things ladies find interesting, like clothes.”

  Daniel kept a straight face although the thought of discussing the merits of silk over kerseymere with Cynthia was laughable in the extreme. “Clothes, eh? Somehow I don’t think ...”

  “Or gardening,” John insisted as if sensing reluctance. “You can talk about your gardens.” He nudged his brother. “Couldn’t he, James?”

  James, always solemn, nodded. “Yes, that should suffice.” The grin broke free as he tried to imagine Cynthia rhapsodizing over rosebuds. “Your mother likes gardens, does she?”

  “And you should bring her presents,” John encouraged him. “Everyone likes presents. A package of pins, perhaps, or a tea strainer.”

  “Really?” He tried to look appreciative of the well-meant advice, but his mouth hurt from holding back the laughter.

  “And candy,” chimed in Adam. “There’s nothing sweeter than candy.” He sighed longingly, and Daniel, seeing the obvious hint, reached obligingly for the nearby crystal candy dish, allowing a chuckle to escape. As they helped themselves all around, he was relieved to hear them return to their usual conversation about whose turn it was to pick the game and how they might elude their uncle the next day. As he listened to them, a part
of him kept toying with the idea of courting Cynthia, but he shook his head. He had courted a number of young ladies over the years but none had stirred his heart enough to offer. He had decided the love spoken of by the poets was obviously beyond him. Yet, a companion would be pleasant and certainly he was beginning to realize what a hole would be left in his life when Cynthia eventually remarried and the boys moved away. But did he care for them enough to risk a life with the redoubtable Cynthia as his wife?

  He kept the boys busy the rest of the afternoon with a “tiger” hunt through the grounds. It wasn’t until he had called for his carriage to take them home that John broached the subject again.

  “So, Mr. Daniel, when shall we tell Mother that you’re going to call?”

  There they were again, three faces raised entreatingly to his. He wondered how any parent ever found the strength to say no. But say no he must before this madness went any farther. He was about to do so, with as much force as necessary, when he noticed the tension in John’s face. His blue eyes were over-bright, and there was a decided tremor in his lower lip, not unlike the way Adam looked before he cried. He’d never seen the boy want anything so much, and he found he couldn’t be the one to deny him.

  “Perhaps I can find time in the next few days,” he heard himself say. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for your mother and me to get reacquainted.”

  THREE

  Cynthia watched her sons working at their copy books, the sunlight from the high windows in the schoolroom making halos on their golden heads. The creak of her rocker kept up a steady rhythm. She blinked to keep herself from falling asleep.

  “Done,” her middle son declared, and she rose, putting aside the sock she had been mending to look over his work. The neat letters marched across the page in orderly rows.

  “Very nice work, James,” she smiled, giving his narrow shoulder a gentle squeeze. Of all her sons, he least reminded her of Nathan. James’s temperament more closely resembled her brother’s—meticulous, thoughtful, and self-contained. She did not have to worry that when she set James a task it would not be completed to her own and his satisfaction.

  Next to him, John hunched over his own work and quickened his pace, but not before she caught sight of the ungainly scrawl. She shook her head. If James was the cautious one, John was more likely to throw caution to the wind. He was entirely too much like his father, a fact that endeared him to her as well as worried her.

  “This isn’t a race, John,” she cautioned. “Take your time and do it properly. James, you may read while we wait for John and Adam to finish.”

  Adam sighed gustily and bent back over the copy book, pudgy fingers straining on the pencil. He was still young for this work, she felt, but if there was anything Adam hated, it was being treated like a baby. He wanted to study everything his brothers studied, do everything his brothers did, be everywhere his brothers were. The current bane of his existence was that he still wore short pants. She had been saving for material to make him long pants, but so far it had been much easier to cut off the tattered legs of pants his brothers had outgrown and refit them to his chubby body.

  Someone coughed politely in the schoolroom door. Turning, she saw her brother standing there, his narrow face closed as usual. “Good afternoon, Jonathan. What brings you up to see us?”

  “You have a gentleman caller,” he replied, moving into the room with his manservant behind him. “If you would be so good as to come with me? Tims can watch the boys.”

  Surprised, she nodded and smiled encouragement to the boys. As she followed him back into the corridor, she wondered who could possibly be calling on her. It couldn’t be news about Nathan. How many times had she tensed to a sudden knock at the door, thinking this was the day they would tell her he had been killed? When it had finally happened it had almost been a relief. But surely the only other reason a man would call on her would be regarding Nathan’s effects. Had the Admiralty learned something new?

  She hastened her steps to catch up with Jonathan but she hadn’t made it to the stairs when a hiss pulled her up short. Jonathan didn’t seem to notice, continuing on. Looking back, Cynthia saw John hurrying after them, her hairbrush in one hand.

  “Here.” He shoved it at her. “You’ll want to look your best.”

  Frowning, she accepted the implement. “Thank you, John. You followed me just to give me this?”

  He looked away, shuffling his feet. “Well, I thought you needed it.”

  Cynthia had a sudden vision of him putting some creature in her bun as she was bent over James’s work. She reached up to touch her hair. Nothing seemed to be moving. “John,” she said slowly, eyes narrowing, “is there something I should know?”

  He backed out of reach. “No, why do you ask?”

  “No reason, I suppose,” she replied, attempting to hand him the brush. “But if I am hideously embarrassed at this meeting, young man, you will answer for it this evening.”

  He swallowed. “Just be nice, Mother. Please?”

  She frowned again, but he was already turning to hurry back toward the schoolroom. She slipped the brush into the pocket of her gown for retrieval later—and use on the seat of a certain young man’s britches if her suspicions proved true—and continued downstairs.

  She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the sight that met her eyes. Daniel Lewiston was pacing her brother’s austere sitting room. For once his clothes, a dark blue superfine coat and matching trousers with a lighter blue waistcoat, were immaculate. What was more out of character, however, was that his meaty hands clutched an obscenely large box with lettering identifying it as coming from a famous Wells confectioner. It was obviously chocolates and could only be a present for the boys, one he wasn’t sure she’d let them accept. She decided to put him at his ease.

  “Mr. Lewiston, how nice of you to call,” she smiled.

  He started, then managed a smile. “Mrs. Jacobs. Very good of you to receive me.”

  “Yes, it was, wasn’t it,” Jonathan quipped, seating himself in one of the Hepplewhite chairs near the windows overlooking the terrace.

  Cynthia quelled his amusement with a frown and took a seat on one of the closer chairs to give Daniel the excuse to sit as well. He glanced at the chair across the room near Jonathan, then sighed and chose the one closest to her instead. Offering her a weak smile, he pushed the candy box toward her in much the same way John had just pushed the brush.

  “I ... I thought you might like these.”

  “Me?” She stared at the box in surprise. “I thought they were for the boys.”

  Next to her, Daniel felt himself blushing. Blushing, of all things! By God, was he such a coward? He straightened himself and set the box into her lap. “No, Mrs. Jacobs,” he replied firmly, “I assure you they are for you.” When she continued to stare at the box, he couldn’t help adding, “Of course, you may share them with the boys if you desire.”

  Cynthia glanced up at him in confusion. The intent look he gave her back offered no clues. “Thank you,” she replied for lack of anything better to say.

  Satisfied, Daniel sat back in the chair. She continued to divide her attention between the box of candy and his face, and he realized the silence was stretching. He wracked his brain for something to say.

  “They’re very good chocolates,” he tried. Look at me, I’m reduced to prattling! “If you like chocolates, of course.”

  “Actually, I prefer stick candy,” Cynthia replied. “I’ve always had a sweet tooth for rock.” What an inane conversation! Whatever is his purpose?

  Daniel nodded. “A wise choice. Doesn’t get your fingers nearly as dirty. Not that you’d ever dirty your fingers, of course.”

  Cynthia felt a laugh bubbling up. Luckily, Jonathan responded for her.

  “You’d be surprised how dirty her fingers get taking care of those boys, Daniel.”

  He managed another weak smile at the sally. Cynthia frowned her brother back into silence. The quiet stretche
d once more. She was obviously waiting for him to say something. Daniel squared his shoulders.

  “The boys tell me you like to garden.”

  Cynthia blinked. “Garden? Mr. Lewiston, I haven’t been near anything resembling a garden in ten years. Certainly nothing like the rose gardens your mother used to tend. Do you still have them?”

  There was something decidedly wistful about her tone of voice. He supposed she couldn’t have seen many gardens at that, not if she’d been living near the Bristol docks as Jonathan had intimated. “Yes, the gardens are still there, although I admit I don’t spend much time in them. I’m not all that keen on roses.”

  She smiled. “Oh, but who couldn’t like roses? I always thought your mother was so fortunate: all those bushes, all those colors and shades. There must have been enough blooms to brighten every room in the house.”

  So, she did like gardens. It was a pleasant surprise. No one had been able to do justice to the roses since his mother had passed on. His sister Clementine had scolded him about their sad state on her last visit. Perhaps if he married Cynthia ... He cleared his throat and attempted to change the subject. “Actually, I far prefer the maze.”

  She hadn’t thought of the Lewiston maze in years. She could feel herself brightening just remembering the fun they had had there. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you kept that as well! After all the times we lost you in there, I’d have thought you’d want to tear the thing to the ground!”

  He smiled, sharing the memory. “You five were scamps, no doubt about it. But for all Jonathan and I shouted and chased you about, it was a great deal of fun. To tell you the truth, I miss it.”

  Cynthia frowned, but he seemed sincere. “You cannot mean it. Your sisters and I were awful to you, Daniel. I don’t know how you put up with us.”

  He looked away. “I suppose one is willing to put up with a great deal when one is lonely.”

  She started, and although he still refused to meet her eye she found she had to believe him this time as well.