by Alexa Aston
The conveyance slowed.
“Lady Lavene!” Margaret Erskin waved enthusiastically. “What a treat to see you again. I never thought we should so soon.”
Caroline approached and found Miss Margaret beside her mother with Miss Stonely opposite beside Julian Winter.
“It is a most pleasant surprise, indeed,” she agreed. “It is certainly a fine day for a ride. We elected to walk today. It’s been quite fortunate this winter has been exceedingly mild.”
“Are you off anywhere in particular, Lady Lavene?”
Oh, she wished Julian hadn’t spoken. There was something about his voice that resonated within her, like a harp string vibrating in perfect pitch.
“Only home, Mr. Winter. Lucas here has nearly outgrown his shoes so we have ordered new ones, isn’t that right, Lucas?”
The boy nodded distractedly, more interested in the matched pair of chestnut horses than the conversation of adults.
“If you are in no hurry, might we take you home by way of Hyde Park?”
If Caroline had been on her own, she might have found a way to refuse. But the unalloyed excitement on Lucas’ face at the offer gave her pause.
“But Julian,” Miss Stonely complained, “we are four already. There aren’t enough seats for two more.”
Caroline felt a brief moment of gratitude, tempered by Lucas’ look of crushing disappointment.
Then she made the mistake of looking directly at Julian. Did she show a moment’s hesitation? She must have done so because there was a softening in the man’s eyes.
“That’s a problem which can be quickly overcome if Lady Lavene wishes it. Lucas can sit on my lap and he’ll get a better view of the park.”
She felt a tug on her hand. “Pleeeease.”
Her son’s blue eyes were large, his plea hard to ignore. When she looked up at Julian, there was a similar look in his eyes. This was not an offhand invitation, hastily made and easily disposed of. The man actually meant it.
Many people had shown kindness to her over the years and yet, somehow, Julian’s regard seemed different. Perhaps it was because he was also close to her in age, eligible and, without question, very handsome.
At her nod, Julian smiled. Lucas jumped up and down on the spot and waited impatiently for the footman to open the door. The child clambered in. Julian reached over him to offer Caroline his hand. She squeezed herself in beside Mrs. Erskin, opposite Julian.
Lucas settled himself on Julian’s lap, facing out of the carriage in rapt attention at being up so much higher than anyone else in the street. Caroline threaded her gloved fingers together to stop herself reaching forward and fussing over him.
As the barouche lurched into motion, she noticed Julian rest his arm along the sill of the carriage, there to catch the boy should be become overenthusiastic as they moved along. His protectiveness of the child warmed her.
And he was watching her again—not Lucas, but Julian. The last time a man looked at her like that was—
No.
She had no business thinking of handsome men. She turned her head away, looking out onto the passing streets of London.
Her eyes fell on a young girl wrapped up in a dark shawl standing on a corner selling flowers, a man hunched over with the weight of a large wicker basket on his back, hurrying past. On Hyde Park corner, a man with a hurdy-gurdy cranked out a tune while his companion made a marionette dance in time.
Now was not the time to indulge in a flight of fancy. This man was not for her – not judging by the sour look Miss Stonely gave her. Besides, she had more than herself to consider.
There was Lucas for one, and the folks at St. Luke’s Mission for another. There was so much to do, so much of the world that needed to be set to rights.
How could she possibly entertain the idea of a romance?
She’d had her turn until death did they part. Except she never expected it to be so soon…
Chapter Six
Julian didn’t know how it happened, but somehow on that carriage ride through the streets of London, he’d been gifted with sight through another’s eyes – Caroline’s eyes.
A city with which he was somewhat familiar, he now saw anew – the coalmen laboring under their load; the street urchins searching the gutters for lost buttons and coins; the particular walk of a lightskirt who would sell her body for a few coins to purchase food and a bed for the night.
Then the carriage turned onto Rotten Row and he became conscious of the quietness of the park, the rustling of the leaves overhead, the particular smell in the air that presaged rain.
There, the illusion stopped, and Julian felt as though he’d been awoken from a dream, except he had the weight of a small boy on his lap. The woman before him blinked slowly as though she, too, experienced what he had seen.
Manston’s borrowed barouche attracted attention. Some riders slowed out of curiosity – most had not met the new Viscount Carmarthan and his bride, and so were disappointed to see only the livery and not the personages.
Margaret and Lydia took advantage of the interest. If the gentlemen they saw on the Row were particularly well known, then they practiced their most flirtatious glances. Lydia, it seemed, had completely overcome her earlier complaint at Lady Lavene joining them.
Meanwhile, Aunt Harriet preened herself beside Caroline, basking in reflected glory.
Caroline tried to hide an amused smile behind her hand, but Julian saw it and smiled also, savoring the warmth in his chest on realizing that, once again, they likely shared the same thoughts.
As they stopped momentarily to allow another carriage to pass, a couple on horseback recognized the widowed Lady Lavene. Baron and Baroness Thornley approached to speak a few words. Julian couldn’t help but listen in. Caroline’s late husband was well regarded, it seemed, and, if he hadn’t died so young, would likely have taken his place in the House of Lords in due course.
Then there was curiosity about the child who had now climbed down off Julian’s lap and up onto his mother’s. Caroline assisted Lucas without breaking her conversation. The action prompted a speculative lift of an eyebrow from the baroness.
That was odd. What could be more natural than a mother interacting with her son?
“And, who might be this young fellow be here?” the peer asked with a syrupy tone of voice.
Caroline stiffened ever so slightly and held Lucas to her a little more closely.
“This is my son, Lucas.”
She rubbed his back which seemed to prompt the lad. “It is very nice to meet you,” he said parrot fashion, an exercise in etiquette no doubt drilled into him.
“Your son? I wasn’t aware you and Lord Lavene had had a son. How old is he?” the baroness asked. She continued her questions without waiting for answers. “He seems rather small for what? Six? Seven years of age?”
“I’m four!” the child added helpfully.
Baroness Thornley’s look of surprise was impossible to miss. So was the malicious speculation that gleamed in the woman’s eyes a moment later.
He knew exactly what was being inferred about Caroline, and he would not stand for it. The very plain suggestion that Lucas was a bastard child was reprehensible – and a few other choice epithets that he preferred to keep locked behind his teeth.
Realizing he could be an imposing-looking man when he wished, he straightened in his seat, using his bearing to draw attention away from Caroline and Lucas.
“You will excuse us,” he told the baron and his wife firmly. “I do need to return the ladies home. I will pass on your regards to the viscount. Onward, driver!”
He continued his level stare after them as the barouche lurched into motion. Julian watched the baroness tug her husband’s sleeve and whisper. He was relieved Caroline had her back to the spectacle as they moved away, but by the stiffness of her back and the tilt of her head as regal as a queen, it was clear she knew herself to be the subject of gossip.
Lydia and Margaret exchanged significant glances.
Julian offered one of his own to Margaret, silently warning her to speak her next words carefully.
“Isn’t it the Westhavens’ card party tonight?” Margaret inquired of Lydia after a moment. “I should rather like to make the acquaintance of Dougal McFife. He’s the heir to Sudbury Castle, don’t you know?”
“Is he really?” Lydia asked with exaggerated attention. “Do tell me more.”
Inwardly, Julian seethed, annoyed at being made impotent. He couldn’t reprimand Lydia and Margaret because they had said nothing inappropriate, but they’d plainly made their judgement about Caroline nonetheless.
“To my townhouse, please, driver. Mrs. Erskin will be most anxious for the Misses to be home.”
If there had ever been a skerrick of attraction to Lydia prior to this – after all, she was considered a beauty – Julian was well cured of it now. He saw his cousin and especially her friend for the children they still were. Nothing on earth could compel him to make an offer of marriage for Lydia, no matter how much the girl and his aunt desired the match.
It wasn’t until they’d made the complete circuit of Hyde Park and crossed back into Mayfair that his temper cooled.
In fact, a chill had fallen over the party altogether, and the ride continued in silence. Julian didn’t trust himself to even look at his cousin or her friend. Instead, he kept his eyes on Lucas who was sleepy. The boy rested his head against Caroline’s breast and brought a thumb to his lips as he struggled to keep his heavy lids open.
The barouche came to a stop in front of his London home. Julian alighted with great reluctance, his training as a gentleman forcing him to assist his young charges from the vehicle.
“Will you be at the Westhavens’ tonight, Julian?” Margaret’s meek inquiry told him that she was chastened by his stern silence.
“I have yet to decide whether to send my regrets,” he said.
Margaret made a quick glance to Caroline, then simply nodded her head in reply. Lydia wisely kept her mouth shut. He climbed back into the barouche and didn’t look back as it departed.
“There was no need to have gone out of your way,” said Caroline, softly. “Lucas and I could have taken a hansom cab home.”
Julian shook his head to protest when an absurd thought occurred to him. He burst out laughing.
“I don’t even know where you live,” he confessed.
After a moment’s hesitation – and dare he witness it, another blush – Caroline broke into a smile and the warmth he’d felt in the park returned.
“As it so happens, I live only two streets away.”
“Then it is not out of my way at all.”
From then on, the silence in the carriage was companionable. Julian entertained the fantasy of being a man enjoying a fine winter’s afternoon in the company of his wife and son. Yes, he was more than ready to settle down with a wife, a lover, a companion, a mother. And in his mind, this paragon was beginning to take on the form of Lady Caroline Lavene.
Ahead, he heard the cries of a young paperboy on the corner.
“Paper! Paper! London’s public disgrace! More from The Nightingale!”
In the gloom of the early evening, it would have been easy to miss the change in Caroline’s posture, except that it startled Lucas’ awake.
“Paper! Paper! London’s public disgrace! More from The Nightingale!”
It was tempting to order the driver to slow enough to purchase a copy from the open carriage, but he did not.
Why would she react that way to the newsboy? No doubt she had heard about The Nightingale – who in London could have failed to? And there was no shame in a woman interested in current affairs. If she was so interested, why did she not say so?
Hyde Park.
The motley choir led by a priest.
The pamphlets
Did Caroline know who The Nightingale was?
Another thought occurred to him; did he know who Caroline was?
All too soon, the carriage arrived at her door. It was opened by a middle-aged man who didn’t seem quite at home in his butler’s uniform.
“We’re glad ye’ve returned, my lady. We’s were gettin’ a bit worried,” he said, holding open the door of the barouche and taking a sleeping Lucas from her arms.
Julian moved to assist Caroline down the steps. Although he was not a stickler for correct protocol himself, he did find it strange that a servant would speak in such a familiar manner.
“I bumped into friends today, Fordyce,” she said and shot a glance Julian’s way. “This is Mr. Winter who was kind enough to invite us to join him and his cousin for a ride through Hyde Park.”
Fordyce smiled a gap-toothed grin. “Ah, no wonder the little ’un is knackered. Bet he enjoyed that.”
“We both did.”
“Leave ’im to me, my lady. I’ll take ’im up and ole Nanny’ll ’ave him ready for bed in a trice.”
He and Caroline stood alone at the open front door. Caroline seemed reluctant to go inside and Julian was honest enough with himself to know he was reluctant to leave. He was aware of being on a threshold – literally and figuratively – but neither of them knew the next step to take.
He suspected it had been a long time since Caroline had entertained, let alone entertained a gentleman visitor.
“I’d like to call again, if I may.”
Yellow light spilled from the house but her face was in half-shadow. He cursed the darkness that concealed her expression from him.
“I… I don’t know.” Caroline stared up the porch stairs. “It’s been a long time… since I have Lucas, I don’t go out in society much.”
If the way she’d been treated today was any indication, Julian understood her reluctance completely. The implication of the baroness was clear enough. Lucas could not be the son of Caroline’s late husband. That only left one conclusion.
Bastard.
It seemed to Julian a nasty epithet better suited to duplicitous adults rather than an innocent child.
He was struck by a feeling that if he did not say something to her now, she would be forever out of reach.
“Tomorrow,” he said, hoping to forestall the door closing on him. “Please, let me take you and Lucas to see the menagerie at the Tower of London.”
She hesitated.
There!
“Lucas does love his animals,” she said.
“Then tomorrow it is?”
Caroline shook her head and Julian’s heart sunk. His gambit was lost. He started to turn away.
“Call on us the day after tomorrow. We would both love to visit the Tower with you.”
Chapter Seven
Through the heavy oak door and above the hubbub throughout the house, Caroline imagined she could hear the driver urge the horses on and the sound of clopping hooves on the cobbled streets outside.
Julian Winter appeared to be courting her.
She smiled and turned away from the door. Fordyce wasn’t smiling. He looked worried.
“I forgot my manners and whatnot, didn’t I?” he said. “I didn’t realize ye’d had a gentleman caller. I’m sorry. I ain’t really cut out for the airs ’n’ graces lark.”
He fiddled with his white gloves nervously. “If ye’re goin’ to be entertainin’ in the proper manner like, I don’t think I’m cut out for it, Lady Caroline, I’m not…”
“You are the finest manservant I’ve ever known, Fordyce,” she said. “I wouldn’t have hired you or anyone else in my home, in fact, if I didn’t think you were all up to the task.”
“But yer gentleman friend’ll ’ave other ideas.”
By now, they had an audience. Mrs. Stewart with a sleeping Lucas on her shoulder; Franny, the parlor maid who was lame in one leg who had just whispered something to her friend, Jane, who had slipped down a passage to the kitchen, no doubt to let Cook know something was happening upstairs.
Caroline silently counted to ten, waiting to ensure she had the full attention of those present.
Now was the time
to nip any rumors in the bud.
“I run an unconventional household and I prefer it that way. But let me say this to you all now, I will not stand for gossip spread about anyone in this house including me,” she said. “Anyone who does not approve of the way I do things in my own household will not be welcome in it, whether he be a prince or parlor maid. Have I made myself clear?”
All nodded, none more intently than Franny. Even little Lucas raised his head and regarded her, bleary-eyed. Caroline softened her voice.
“Now, everyone, back to your duties. Fordyce, ask the groom to prepare a carriage for tonight. I plan to spend the evening at St. Luke’s.”
The gathered servants melted back into the house to attend to their work. Caroline was about to follow Mrs. Stewart and Lucas upstairs when Fordyce interrupted.
“My lady,” he said formally and bowed. “An invitation arrived while ye was out.”
He handed over a thick, white card. Caroline accepted it without looking at it. “Thank you, my friend.”
As she entered her bedroom, Caroline hadn’t appreciated how tired she was. She ought to have supper before she changed into a plainer, warmer gown.
She had feared this, the judgement of those who did not understand why she did what she did. She should not have to explain to a stranger that Lucas was adopted. As far as she was concerned, he was her son. She did not take him into her home and her heart as a conspicuous piece of pious theatre. She did so because she wanted to help him.
The last thing she wanted to do was let Lucas think he was anything other than her child.
Except he wasn’t.
Lucas had relatives somewhere out there. Relatives who probably had another name for him. Relatives who possibly never cared for him. Relatives who…
If they knew the child they abandoned had fallen on his feet, would they come to claim him? Would they press a claim on her?
Would they threaten to take Lucas away from her?
While Caroline waited for supper to be brought to her room, she looked at the printed invitation bordered with decorative snowflakes. Her name was hand-written, but the rest of the card was printed
