by Laura Landon
Millie waited until the children were out of hearing, then turned on Roarke Livingston. “There is no reason for you to go with us. The children and I will be fine without an escort.”
“The Bedford Street Investigators have been hired to protect Lord and Lady Strothum, their children, and their staff, Miss Shaw. Until we discover the reason someone broke into Lord Strothum’s house and killed one of his footmen, no one is to leave unescorted. Especially his children.”
Millie suffered a pang of guilt. She’d been so preoccupied with her dislike of Roarke Livingston, she hadn’t thought of what would be best for the children. Such a lapse of judgment was insufferable.
“Very well, Mr. Livingston. Wasn’t there another investigator with you? A Mr. Conway? If someone must accompany us, I prefer it is him.”
“I’m sure you do, but Jack is otherwise engaged. I’m afraid you are stuck with me. Whether you like it or not.”
“Well, I—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “You don’t. But at the moment you don’t have another choice.”
Millie didn’t have a chance to argue further. The children returned with a bundle of bread chunks tied in a cloth. Their excitement couldn’t be dampened.
“We’re ready,” Henry announced.
Rather than wait for her signal, the three children rushed to the door. Thankfully, Rogers was guarding the entrance and prevented the children from leaving without her.
Millie walked across the vestibule and placed her hand on Beth’s shoulder just as Rogers opened the door. But not before he gave her a hard look. He knew how Roarke Livingston had affected their lives. Rogers disliked him as much as Millie did. Perhaps more.
The boys moved to dart into the sunshine, but Detective Livingston extended his arm to prevent them from exiting, then slowly shook his head.
Henry and Robbie realized their mistake at once and stepped back to allow Beth and Millie to walk out first.
Millie held Beth’s hand in hers as she walked through the ornate gate, then crossed the street to go to the park. She tried but couldn’t shake the foreboding message in Rogers’ expression. She couldn’t forget the intense dislike in his eyes, or the frown of concern because she would be alone with Roarke Livingston.
Rogers knew how dangerous Roarke Livingston could be. He was the only other person who knew what had happened. The only person who hated Roarke Livingston as much as she did.
Millie kept a steady pace in order to maintain an adequate distance from Mr. Livingston. She would not allow an opportunity for conversation to develop between them. The less she had to do with him the less likely it would be that she would say something she regretted.
The less likely she would reveal something that was best kept secret.
CHAPTER 3
Roarke let the boys run ahead while he followed little Beth and her nursemaid. He remained a respectable distance behind Miss Shaw.
If she could walk with her back any straighter, and lift her chin any higher, it would be a wonder of nature. She walked as if the devil himself was after her, and perhaps that’s who she thought he was. Except he couldn’t figure out why she thought that. Their paths had never crossed. At least, not that he had ever known.
He watched the little girl she’d called Beth scurry to keep up. He guessed the child was perhaps four, and her short legs had to move ever so fast to keep up with her nurse’s rapid pace.
“Miss Shaw?”
She ignored him, but that didn’t surprise him. It was obvious she considered his presence an unwanted irritation.
“If you want to continue at your current pace, perhaps the child could keep up better if she walked with me?”
It took a moment before she realized what he meant. She slowed immediately, and looked down at the little girl marching beside her.
“I’m sorry, Beth. I didn’t mean to walk so fast.”
“That’s all right, Miss Millie. I know you were only trying to keep up with the boys.”
She stopped and turned her head in search of the boys. The surprised expression on her face told him she hadn’t realized they’d scampered ahead of her. The instant terror in her eyes told him that she considered herself derelict in her duty to keep an eye on her charges. Obviously, the boys hadn’t been foremost in her mind. He had a feeling that he knew who occupied her thoughts.
He wondered what she’d been thinking about him.
On second thought, perhaps it would be better if he didn’t know.
Since Lord Strothum lived near St. James Park, it didn’t take them long to reach their destination. The park’s rolling lawn was an ideal area for the children to run and play.
When they reached a relatively unpopulated area, Miss Shaw took a stuffed ball from the reticule she carried, and tossed it to Henry.
“Be sure to include Beth when you and Robbie play,” she ordered. “And don’t throw it too hard.”
“Are you sure it’s proper for girls to play ball, Miss Millie? I think only boys are supposed to learn to play ball.”
“And I think that’s a very superior attitude, Master Henry. Not one becoming of a gentleman.”
A frown creased Henry’s forehead as if he had to think over Miss Shaw’s opinion. He hesitated, then looked at Roarke.
“Is that right, Mr. Livingston? Are girls supposed to learn to throw a ball?”
“It’s a bitter pill to swallow, Master Henry, but Miss Millie is correct. Not only can girls learn to toss a ball as well as boys, but some are even rumored to be better.”
Henry considered this for a moment. “Well, Beth isn’t. Most of the time we have to roll it to her because she can’t catch very well.”
“Yes, but Beth is several years younger than you. She could grow up to surprise you. Especially if she has an older brother to teach her how to throw a ball properly.”
Henry thought for a few moments. “I guess I could do that. I taught Robbie, and he and Beth are about the same age.” Henry turned to his sister. “Come on, Beth. It’s time you learned how to throw a ball.”
Henry took Beth’s hand and the three children ran off.
Miss Shaw watched them until they started playing, then sat on a nearby bench where she could see them clearly.
“You handled that perfectly, Miss Millie.”
Her head snapped up to face him. “It’s Miss Shaw to you, Mr. Livingston. As it will always be.”
Roarke nodded. She’d erected a wall between them and had no intention of either of them breaching it. He looked at the empty spot on the bench and considered asking her permission to sit. Then thought better of his notion to ask. He simply sat.
His intrusion forced her to move to make room for him. Either that, or she could have remained where she was. Although he would have enjoyed their nearness, such a closeness would be considered highly improper.
“Henry seems like an intelligent lad,” he said, in an effort to strike up a conversation that wasn’t confrontational.
“Yes, he is. He’s very bright for his age, and has a very amiable personality.”
“What about Robbie? He’s not Lord and Lady Strothum’s, is he?”
His question seemed to bother her. She stiffened beside him, and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
“N…No. He’s not. Robbie’s parents died when Robbie was just a babe. Lord and Lady Strothum took him into their home and have provided for him as if he were their own.”
“I can see Lord and Lady Strothum doing that. They are very generous people.”
She ventured a look in his direction. “I’m surprised you admire such an act.”
Roarke wasn’t surprised. He was shocked. “Why would you have that opinion, Miss Shaw? Do I seem so heartless to you that I would abandon a babe to the world without lifting a finger to help it?”
The look in her eyes turned cold. “Yes, you do, Mr. Livingston. That’s exactly how you seem.”
Roarke fought to control his anger. “You talk about me as if I have horns a
nd my closest acquaintances are the devil and his minions. May I ask what I have done to you to inspire your hostility, Miss Shaw?”
“That, Mr. Livingston, you will have to discover on your own.”
With a hostile parting glance, she rose from the bench and walked to where the children were playing.
“Toss me the ball, Henry. You can judge for yourself whether or not girls can learn to throw as well as boys.
She threw the ball with enough force to send Henry and Robbie running to retrieve it.
. . . . .
Millie was still seething when they returned home. She walked through the door Rogers held open for them.
“Did you fare all right, Miss Millie?” Rogers asked.
“As well as possible…under the circumstances.”
“Very good. Should I have Cook prepare a tray of sweets for the children, Miss Millie?” Rogers asked when she ushered the children to the stairs.
“Yes, please, Rogers. That would be perfect. They are no doubt hungry after our game of catch.”
“Our?”
“Yes, Rogers. I felt it my duty to show the young lads that catching and throwing a ball aren’t restricted to only the male populace of the world.”
“I’m sure you did,” Rogers said.
Millie couldn’t help but notice the slight lift to the corners of Rogers’ mouth.
“And Mr. Livingston showed Robbie and me a better way to throw a ball so it would go farther,” Henry said with excitement.
“And he told me to get behind the ball when someone threw it at me instead of sticking my arm out,” Robbie said. “After I did that, I caught almost every ball Miss Millie and Henry threw at me.”
“Did you now, lad,” Rogers said, acting duly impressed.
“Yes,” Robbie said with excitement in his voice. “Mr. Livingston said someday I was going to be a real good ball player.”
There was a broader smile on Rogers’ face. That was something she hadn’t seen from him in a long time.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, Rogers,” Roarke Livingston said as he removed his hat and gloves, “but Miss Shaw shows a great deal of skill. She has a powerful right arm.”
“Yes, sir. She always has. She—”
“Thank you, Rogers,” Millie interrupted. “I’m going to take the children up now.”
“Very good, Miss.”
Millie ushered the children to the stairs. She didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary in Roarke Livingston’s presence. She wanted to hate him. She had every right to hate him. But the emotion she felt when he stopped the boys at the door and reminded them to let the ladies leave first chipped away at the intense revulsion she felt for him. And the warmth that rushed through her when he spoke to Robbie and Henry about underestimating a woman’s abilities lessened the loathing she knew she should feel. And the time and patience he took to instruct both Henry and Robbie on the correct way to throw a ball evaporated more of the animosity she’d harbored for more than four years.
And the heat that traveled through her body when he sat next to her angered her. Such a response was unforgivable. How could she react that way around him? How could she allow her emotions to betray her like that?
Millie led the way to the nursery. She was never so glad for anything in her life as she was when she and the children reached the nursery and she could separate herself from the outside world. Especially from Roarke Livingston.
“How was your adventure to the park?” Janie asked.
Millie let the children tell Janie all about their day while she went into the connecting room to check on a sleeping Carter—and to be alone.
It was obvious to her why Rosie had fallen so completely in love with him. She wondered if every woman did.
Millie walked to the small bed where the baby lay curled up and watched him sleep. Oh, to be that innocent. To not have a care in the world. To not know the heartache and pain that life would throw at you.
She pulled the covers over little Carter, then pushed a lock of damp hair back from his forehead. She turned when the door opened.
“Would you care to join us, Miss Millie,” Janie said from the doorway. “Cook sent up a tray of pastries. I can’t guarantee how long I can keep the children from eating them all.”
Millie laughed, then followed Janie into the main nursery room. Her footsteps hesitated when she saw Roarke Livingston pouring glasses of lemonade for the children.
“Ah, you’re just in time, Miss Shaw. Look what Cook sent up.”
“Cook asked you to deliver?” Millie said, keeping the tone of her voice as cool as possible.
“Actually, no. She was kind enough to make a tray for me, too, but since I didn’t relish eating by myself, I offered to add my pastries to yours and bring them up so we could eat together.”
“How thoughtful of you,” she intoned.
“Yes, I thought it was.”
He smiled and something shifted inside her.
“Would you pour?” he said, glancing at the pot of tea.
“Of course.”
Millie poured while Janie distributed the pastries. When everyone had what they wanted, the children started eating. Between bites, they told Janie more about their afternoon.
“How long are you going to pretend we are enemies, Miss Shaw?” He kept his voice low, so there was no chance Janie or the children could hear him above their eager chatter.
“I don’t need to pretend, Mr. Livingston. We are indeed enemies. Bitter enemies. You just don’t know how deep my animosity runs.”
Millie enjoyed seeing the change on his face. She enjoyed knowing that her words had shocked him more than he could hide.
“Isn’t that right, Mr. Livingston?” Henry said. His question pulled Millie back to the children and the conversation going on around them.
“Isn’t what right, Master Henry?”
“Didn’t you say that Robbie showed fine promise in throwing the ball?”
“I did indeed,” he answered. “He reminds me a great deal of my brother. He had a powerful arm just like Robbie’s when he was about his age.”
Millie felt the blood rush from her head. Just the mention of something that reminded him of someone in his family turned her blood to ice. She was surprised that he hadn’t noticed more resemblances. If he looked closely, he couldn’t help but see his own— Millie pushed her chair back from the table. “I’m going to check on Carter,” she said.
She needed to leave the room. She didn’t want to be there to have to respond to anything else Roarke Livingston might notice about his son.
Millie walked to the middle room where Carter slept. Her step faltered once on the way, but she didn’t turn around to see if anyone noticed. She needed to escape Roarke Livingston’s watchful eye.
She reached the small bed where Carter slept and anchored her hands on the railing that protected the babe from rolling out of bed. What would she do if he asked more questions about Robbie? How would she explain who he was and why he was here?
Millie closed her eyes to block out the possibilities that she might have to battle. She—
“Are you all right?” he asked from beside her.
His voice startled her and she jumped. “Of course. I just needed to check on the babe.”
“There’s something wrong, Miss Shaw. I’d like to help if I can.”
Millie turned on him. “You’d like to help, Mr. Livingston?”
“Yes.”
“Then leave. Allow Mr. Wallace to assign one of the other Bedford Street investigators to take your place.”
“Why?”
She leveled her gaze with his. “Because that is the only way you can help.” She turned. “Now, if you will excuse us. Beth needs to lie down for a while, and the boys have work to do before dinner.”
“Are you asking me to leave?”
“Asking you to leave would be putting what I want from you in terms that are too polite. Just leave.”
With that, she wal
ked past him and left the room. She helped Janie gather the cups and glasses, and when everything was put away, she looked around.
He was gone.
CHAPTER 4
Roarke walked down the hall toward Lord Strothum’s study. He was late to the meeting Mack had scheduled to update them on what they’d discovered on the outside. He reached the study door, but stopped when he heard her voice coming from inside the room.
Lord Strothum had obviously wanted Mack to meet his children and had asked Miss Shaw to bring them down. The fact that the earl wanted to introduce his children spoke of his pride in them.
Roarke leaned against the wall outside the study door and waited. He didn’t want to interrupt. Nor did he want to enter the room if Miss Shaw was there. She’d made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want him anywhere near her. He knew his presence would upset her.
Several days had passed since the trip to the park, and during that time, Millie Shaw had done everything in her power to avoid him. The only time he’d caught even a glimpse of her was when she brought the three children down to see their parents each evening. Robbie, of course, wasn’t with them.
It was understandable that he wasn’t, considering that he was a distant relation that Lord Strothum had been kind enough to take in after he’d been left orphaned.
Roarke was glad Robbie had a relative to look after him. There was something special about the lad. Roarke had felt a connection to him the first time he’d met him. He knew what it was like to be orphaned at a young age. Although he hadn’t been alone. He’d had his brother.
Perhaps that was what made Robbie seem special. Or, perhaps it was because he was so different, both in coloring as well as physical build, from the other children. Where the others were blond-haired, blue eyed, and fair skinned, little Robbie’s complexion appeared handsomely dark, as if bronzed by the sun. His eyes were merry and dark, almost black. Physically, he was a strapping young lad, nearly as tall as Henry, who was three years older.
Roarke was glad the lad had Millie Shaw to look after him. She’d proven that she wouldn’t let anyone exclude him. From what he’d seen so far, she had a special fondness for the lad. She hovered over him like a mother hen.
