by Deborah Hale
“I believe they might be.” Leah tried to think of a subject to divert her young pupil’s curiosity.
For three weeks now, the mysterious sounds of footsteps, hammering and distant voices from the ground floor had intrigued Kit no end. When he questioned them, Leah and his father put him off with vague references to renovations. Hayden feared his son would grow impatient with the pace of the work if he knew what it would mean for him. Leah did not want to let the truth slip out in case Hayden changed his mind at the last minute, which she worried he might.
She approved the effort he was making to master his fears and take this daunting step toward greater freedom for his son. She took it as a touching indication of his feelings for her that he had decided to act upon her suggestion.
“Shall we play skittles?” she asked Kit, certain the activity would take his attention off what was going on downstairs.
It was Hayden who had first mentioned the game, remembering how he and his sister had played it in the upper gallery when they were children. Kit enjoyed the opportunity to be active and make some noise by knocking down the pins. At first his arms had been too weak for him to roll the ball far, let alone hit any pins, but with practice he had improved a great deal.
“Yes, please!” Kit sat up taller in his chair. “I hope I can knock down six pins with one roll today. I want to be able to play skittles with Sophie when she comes to visit. Do you suppose Papa could teach me some more games?”
“He might,” said Leah as she set up the wooden pins. “You will have to ask him when he comes.”
Hayden still spent far more time with his son than any father Leah had ever known. But with the approach of spring, he had become more involved in running the estate, not to mention supervising the construction downstairs. In spite of being so busy, he appeared better rested, more relaxed and happier. He and Kit seemed to enjoy their time together more.
Leah handed Kit the ball and watched with satisfaction as he knocked down several pins.
“Only four,” he sounded disappointed, clearly forgetting it had not been long since he’d been happy to hit even one. “But I will do better with the next roll.”
“I am certain you will continue to improve if you keep that attitude.” Leah encouraged him as she reset the pins for his next try.
She pictured Hayden and his sister playing the game when they were children. No doubt he had been careful to observe the rules and not disturb their grandmother by making too much noise. Althea would have jumped and shouted when she made a good score and perhaps not been above the occasional bit of cheating.
In recent weeks, Leah and Hayden had often talked of their childhoods, which made her feel closer to him than ever. Unlike her, he had been old enough to recall the fever epidemic that carried off his beloved parents, grandfather and younger brother. Was that devastating loss part of the reason he clung so tightly to those he loved? While she could sympathize with such feelings, Leah was not certain she dared wed a man who would always want to hold her too tight.
“There now,” she returned the ball to Kit. “Take your time, aim carefully and put all your strength into your roll.”
The child’s features settled into a determined expression so like his father’s that Leah could not help but smile. Hard as she tried to keep her feelings for Hayden Latimer from running away with her, she sensed her resolve slowly crumbling. If he had continued to argue against her views about marriage, it would have aroused her antagonism, like the traveler in Aesop’s fable who pulled his cloak tight against the raging wind. Instead, the duke’s attentiveness and sincere efforts to change had worked on her like the sun’s beaming rays, loosening her grip.
Kit did as Leah had suggested, his eyes narrowed and the tip of his tongue stuck out in a look of intense concentration. The ball flew from his hand and barreled into the pins.
“Seven!” Kit bounced up and down in his chair in the throes of excitement that would have alarmed his former doctor. “I never thought I could knock down that many with one roll.”
“Well done!” Hayden’s voice startled both Leah and the child as he strode into view. “Keep at it and you will soon be better than I ever was.”
“Papa!” Kit held up his arms for an embrace.
Leah wished she could do the same.
All she had to say was one little word, the voice of temptation whispered, and she would be free to give and receive such gestures of affection from the duke.
Free? A more familiar voice countered. With such a fiercely protective man and a child who required so much special care? There were sure to be far more things she would not be permitted to do.
Unaware of Leah’s troubled thoughts, Hayden stooped to hug his son.
“Playing skittles is making me stronger.” Kit flexed his arm to show how it had put on flesh. “Miss Leah says so. And it is great fun. Would you like to play against me, Papa?”
Hayden nodded toward the scattered pins. “A few hits like that and you would humiliate your old father. Give me a chance to practice first so I can offer you a little competition.”
“Besides,” he continued, casting a significant glance toward Leah, “if you can take a recess from your game, there is something I would like to show you.”
Kit gave a vigorous nod. “What is it, Papa?”
Hayden bent over the child and hoisted him into his arms. “You will see soon enough.”
As he headed toward the stairway with careful steps, a footman appeared and rolled Kit’s chair away toward the servant’s stairs.
“Whatever it is, can Miss Leah see it too?” Kit asked his father.
“Of course,” Hayden replied. “In fact I want her to see, since it was her idea.”
“Come on, Miss Leah!” the child called. “You don’t want to miss it.”
“I certainly do not.” She scrambled after them, her heart galloping in anticipation of Kit’s reaction.
Or was it pounding with dread of her frail young pupil being carried down that tall flight of stairs? Images of Hayden falling with Kit in his arms flashed through her mind in a disturbing sequence. She could only imagine how he must feel after years spent zealously guarding his son from the slightest bump or sniffle.
“Let me walk ahead of you,” she offered as Hayden hesitated at the top of the stairs.
She would hold tight to the banister and if any mishap did occur, hopefully she would break their fall.
“Are we going downstairs?” Kit sounded as amazed and delighted as if he had been informed of a voyage to the Orient.
“We are.” Hayden’s features creased with anxiety. “Now keep still like a good boy and hold tight to my neck.”
Leah cast him a smile that she hoped communicated encouragement and confidence. Then she turned and proceeded down the stairs with care almost as great as if she were carrying the child.
Behind her, she heard Hayden’s firm but cautious tread. When they rounded the landing, she looked down to see Kit’s chair waiting for him, along with a welcoming committee comprised of Mr. Gibson, Tilly and several more housemaids and footmen.
By the time she reached the lower floor, Leah’s breath was coming so fast and shallow, she felt a trifle faint. She joined the others to watch Hayden descend the last few steps. Did anyone else notice the faint sheen of sweat on Lord Northam’s distinguished brow?
The servants burst into applause when the duke lowered Kit into his chair. The child grinned and bowed from the waist, clearly delighted with the whole proceedings. “Is this what you wanted to show me, Papa?”
“Part of it.” Hayden sounded winded as if he had just climbed a mountain. “Now let us see the rest.”
It was a kind of mountain he had scaled, Leah reflected as she followed the parade toward Kit’s new quarters. This obstacle to his son’s freedom had long seemed overwhelming, yet Hayden had battled his paralyzing caution to conquer it at last. This one step would open up whole new vistas for the child—the library, the music room, the cloisters and
chapel, even the grounds outside.
When she had first come to Renforth Abbey, Leah would have considered this a simple task that should have been accomplished right away. Now she knew better. It had been anything but easy for Hayden. Yet he had done it, because he loved his son and because he wanted to prove something to her.
He was capable of change and willing to undertake it for the sake of those he cared for. If Hayden could change, perhaps she could too. Perhaps she could conquer her fear of confinement, learn to be content in one place and allow herself to form lasting attachments... even if they threatened to tie her down.
Walking down that long staircase with his precious son in his arms was one of the most terrifying ordeals Hayden had ever attempted. Afterward when he thought back on it, his innards twisted into tight knots and his palms grew damp. A single misstep and he could not bear to imagine what might have happened. All his worst nightmares would have come true.
Yet, as the dismal days of winter warmed to spring and he watched his son blossom, he could not deny the reward had been worth the risk. Four wheels attached to the legs of a chair and Kit’s bedchamber moved to the ground floor—who would think two simple changes could have such a profound effect on the boy’s life? But they had opened up a new world to Kit that he had embraced eagerly. Every day he seemed to grow stronger, happier and more independent.
One evening in early April, as Hayden and Leah emerged from the nursery after hearing his son’s prayers and saying good-night, he shook his head and gave a wry chuckle. “Did you hear Kit at dinner, informing me he is too old for a nursemaid and asking for a valet of his own? What will be next?”
“It is a rather precocious request,” Leah agreed. “But perhaps worth considering. He is growing so fast. He will soon need someone with good strong arms to help him get about. Besides, Kit might feel less coddled if he is attended by a man. I would suggest someone fairly young who could also be a companion for him—take part in his games and so on.”
“I should have known you would have an opinion on the subject.” Hayden offered Leah his arm, which she took with only the slightest hesitation.
In the weeks since Kit had taken up residence on the ground floor, Hayden sensed a growing change in Leah, too. She seemed more content at Renforth Abbey, less restless. They had not discussed the subject of marriage for some time, but he suspected it was as much on her mind as his. Unless he was mistaken, she seemed to be warming to the idea, or at least getting used to it.
“Does that mean you will think about Kit’s request?” She cast him a sidelong glance, her lips arched in the beginnings of an impudent grin that had become so familiar to him. “Surely you cannot still be afraid that every bump or chill will cause him terrible harm?”
Hayden shook his head ruefully. “It is not easy to abandon the habit of worrying about him. No matter how big and strong and capable he becomes, part of me will always think of him as that frail little mite I first held in my arms and swore to protect.”
He could tell by the dewy, brooding look in her eyes that Leah did not think less of him for voicing such feelings—quite the contrary. Yet he must give the lady her due as well. “On the other hand, when I think of the restricted life Kit had before you came to be his governess I pity the poor child with all my heart and blame myself for my blindness.”
“Do not be too severe upon yourself.” Leah gave his arm a heartening squeeze. “You deserved every bit as much pity as your son. Pleased as I am to see him enjoying his newfound freedom, I am equally happy to see you reclaim a life of your own. You will be a better father to Kit because of it, I am certain.”
Without paying much attention to where they were going, they had arrived at a side door that opened onto the gardens.
Hayden nodded toward it. “The evening is mild and there is still some light. Shall we walk out before dinner?”
“I would like that,” Leah responded readily. “In fact, there is something I would like to show you and a question I want to ask.”
A question? He was the one with a question always on his mind. More than once it had risen to his lips only to be suppressed by fear that her answer might not be to his liking. The longer he was able to wait, the more optimistic he would feel about his chances. Yet his sense of caution urged him to be certain of Leah first.
“Lead on.” Hayden opened the door and ushered her out.
The sun had already sunk down below the horizon, illuminating the western sky in vivid bands of red, orange and purple. Hayden could not recall the sunsets being so intense and beautiful in the past. Was it Leah’s company that made them appear that way? He suspected so, just as food had more flavor when she dined with him. Every experience, however commonplace, seemed heightened somehow when he shared it with her.
Even as he savored this sharper awareness of life’s joys, he could not stifle a qualm of uneasiness. It was growing harder and harder to prevent his heart from becoming engaged, as had been his prudent plan. After all, he could not be certain Leah would agree to wed him. She still might decide to go off to Europe with that admiral and his family. Hard as he might try to prevent it, he must try equally hard to keep his heart from being torn apart if it did come to pass.
When he felt his emotions slipping out of his control he reminded himself of his marriage to Celia, which had begun on such a pinnacle only to erode under the pressures of time and their differences.
“What is it you want to show me?” he asked as they walked further and further from the house.
Here, a series of walled gardens that provided fresh produce for the estate stood near a fringe of woodland. Those trees separated the grounds of Renforth Abbey from the surrounding tenant farms.
“This.” Leah tugged him toward one of the enclosed gardens and pushed open a wooden door that led inside. “Why was it left to go to seed when every other part of the estate is so well cared for?”
Hayden stared around at unpruned trees and weed-choked flower beds. “I’d forgotten all about this little garden. My grandfather had it made for my grandmother when they were first married. After he died, she ordered it shut up and left as it was. I never understood why. Althea once asked but Grandmother refused to answer. It was the closest I ever saw her to tears. Why does it matter?”
“Because.” Leah let go of his arm and wandered toward a tall oak tree. A rope swing with a wooden seat hung from one of its sturdy branches. She sat down on it. “I would like to bring Kit out here when the weather is fine.”
Instinctively Hayden began to marshal his arguments, but Leah seemed to anticipate them before he could speak.
“He could ride in your grandmother’s garden chair. I already asked the coachman about making any repairs it needs. Later it might be nice if you bought Kit a cart and a big, good-tempered dog to pull it.”
“A large dog?” Hayden forgot his objections to the garden as he contemplated that alarming notion.
“Don’t you think it would be good company for him?” Leah gave herself a little push to set the swing moving back and forth.
“Careful!” Hayden strode closer to catch her if she fell. “Are you certain that branch is strong enough? The rope could be rotten too.”
Leah laughed. “The branch is as sound as can be. But you’re right. It might be a good idea to replace the rope with new before Kit uses it.”
“Are you mad?” Hayden seized the ropes and brought the swing to an abrupt halt. “Or only trying to drive me that way? I will not have my son flying through the air and cavorting with beasts twice his size!”
Leah looked up at him with a mixture of pity and exasperation he had come to know so well. He found it strangely appealing. “A few months ago, you did not want Kit to leave his bed, but now you chide yourself for keeping him there so long. Other children play on swings. Other children have dogs and are none the worse for either. Kit wants more than anything to be like other children even if he cannot walk. Those are two ways he can be. Do not let your fears hold him back.�
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Was that what he’d been doing all Kit’s life? Leah’s charge rocked Hayden as if he were the one on the swing rather than she. Had he let his fears hold his son back more than the child’s physical infirmity? Was he Kit’s greatest handicap?
“Do you never get tired of being right?” He gave Leah’s swing a gentle push, hoping his outburst had not set back his campaign to win her hand. What greater proof could there be that he and Kit needed her to advocate for the boy’s independence?
“Tired of being right?” Leah gave a gurgle of melodious laughter that reassured him she was not offended. “Hardly! It makes a very agreeable change as a matter of fact. Does that mean you will let me bring Kit here and you will think about getting him a dog?”
Hayden tried to banish the images of possible disaster and the feeling of alarm they engendered. “With certain conditions. That tree limb must be inspected for soundness and the swing replaced with a new one. And any dog I acquire must be the most docile tempered of its kind to be found.”
“Very prudent measures,” Leah said, nodding. “Believe me, I do not want to risk any harm coming to Kit, either. But I worry more about the consequences of keeping him too sheltered. That reminds me, there is something else I believe Kit will like about this garden.”
“And what might that be?” Hayden gave the swing another push. The branch and rope had held so far. Perhaps both were sturdier than he’d given them credit for. Did the same apply to his son?
“I happened to be out walking earlier this week.” Leah seemed to enjoy the movement of the swing. Had she ever taken part in such childhood pastimes? Or had she been too busy caring for her grandmother? Hayden doubted there had been any swings or games at the Pendergast School.
“I heard voices from within these walls,” Leah continued. “It seems some of your tenant’s children sneak in here to play.”
“Do they, indeed?” Now that he looked, Hayden could see where some weeds had been pulled and scattered about and earth in the flower beds had been newly turned.
