Her hand moved from his chest to his cheek. Even through the soft leather of her glove, he could feel the warmth of her palm. “You don’t have to do anything, Rafe. This is for me to do. I’ve avoided the issue of Jamie’s parentage for too long, and it’s time I dealt with it. Knowing you care enough to want to help gives me the strength to do that.”
“But I—”
She stopped him with a kiss. A salty kiss. A kiss so filled with tenderness it almost undid him. “You give me courage, Rafe,” she whispered against his lips. “And I adore you for that.” Another kiss, then she drew away. Before he could pull her back into his arms and give voice to the tempest of emotions roiling inside him, she turned and walk from the room.
He followed her into the aisle, wanting to do something, say something to bring her back. But the words stuck in his throat. In silence, he watched her walk away, his body taut with frustration and indecision, a hundred unspoken words and questions rattling around in his head.
He wasn’t sure what had just happened, or what Adderly’s return meant, or what his hesitation might have cost him.
But he knew something had changed.
Nineteen
Adderly arrived just before luncheon. Josephine was in the yellow salon, trying to read a book, when she heard his carriage on the drive. Filled with apprehension, she rose and went to the window.
Father was already stepping off the porch to greet him; two jovial fellows well met, their faces wreathed in smiles—the cads—while Shipley sent footmen forward to retrieve the baron’s luggage. By the number of cases they carried inside, it was apparent he planned to stay for several days.
Footsteps in the hall. Composing her face into a bland expression, she turned from the window just as Jamie rushed in.
“Is it him?”
“He. And yes, it is.”
“Oh.” He looked terrified and excited at the same time.
Still a child, and faced with issues beyond his control or understanding. The awareness that she had done this to him was like a tear in her heart. “You look quite handsome,” she said, filled with pride, despite a building dread.
“What do I call him?”
“Sir, or my lord, or Lord Adderly. You can decide later if you wish to address him as Father.” Seeing the worry on his wan face, she forced a smile. “Come stand beside me, so I won’t be nervous.”
With a look of relief, he scampered into place just as the door opened again and Father ushered the baron into the room.
Josephine stood frozen, her gaze fixed on William’s face. But when she saw the way he looked at Jamie and the emotion behind his tentative smile, some of her fear drained away. “Welcome, Lord Adderly,” she said, extending a hand as he approached, and hoping he didn’t see the tremble in her fingers.
“Miss Cathcart. You’re looking beautiful as always.” A dip of his head, then he released her hand and stepped back.
She was pleased to see a reflection of her own panic in his brown eyes. Resting a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, she felt tension ripple through his small frame, and gave a squeeze of reassurance. “Adderly, may I present James Cathcart, my son. Jamie, this is Baron Adderly.”
Jamie gave a slight bow. “Good day, sir.”
“Delighted, I’m sure.” Hands clasped at his back, William rocked on his heels, the buttons on his waistcoat straining over his girth. “May I call you Jamie?”
A quick look at Josephine, then Jamie nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you know who I am, Jamie?”
“Mother says you’re my father.”
“She is correct. I am your father. And I’ve been far too long in coming to see you. I regret that. To make amends, I have brought you a gift.”
“Thank you, sir.”
A pause. “Would you care to see it?”
Another glance at Josephine, another nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. It’s outside.” William’s smile seemed more relaxed as he extended a hand toward the door. “Shall we?”
Josephine followed them into the entry, where Father fell in beside her. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Good manners prevented her from striking him, though she was sorely tempted.
Bright afternoon sunlight greeted them when they stepped outside. It was a moment before Josephine’s eyes adjusted to the glare. When they did, she saw Adderly speaking to one of his blue-liveried grooms. The man walked to the back of the carriage and untied a horse tethered to the boot. A glossy gray gelding, with dapples on his shoulders and haunches, and a paler gray hue in his mane and tail. After handing the lead to Adderly, the groom stepped back beside the coach.
Smiling, William ran a hand along the horse’s neck. “This is Thunder, Jamie. A fine thoroughbred with impeccable bloodlines. I would like for you to have him as a gift from me, your father.”
Impeccable bloodlines. How ironic. And how thoughtless of William to use such a phrase in front of the woman he had cast aside for lacking an acceptable pedigree, and the boy he had ignored because of his common blood. But then, William had never given much attention to the feelings of others.
“B-But I already have a horse,” Jamie said.
“Since when?” his grandfather barked.
Seeing that telltale throb in Father’s temple, Josephine stepped in, hoping to defuse a situation that was already awkward enough. “It’s most kind of you to give Jamie such a fine animal, Baron Adderly. Isn’t he a beauty, Jamie?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jamie scrambled out of the way when the nervous gelding shied at the sudden clatter when a coachman dropped the mounting step into the boot at the back of the coach. “Th-Thank you, sir.”
Smiles all around, even though the tension was thick enough to cut with a blade, and anyone who had ever been around horses could see that the young thoroughbred was too green, too high-strung, and too big for a boy of Jamie’s size and age. But rather than make an issue of it, Josephine nodded to the butler hovering near the front door. “Have one of the grooms take Thunder to the stable, will you, Shipley? And tell Cook we will take luncheon now.”
But Father couldn’t let it go. “Don’t brush this off, daughter. I want to know where the boy got this other horse he mentions and why I wasn’t informed.”
“Mr. Jessup gave him to me,” Jamie said.
“Jessup?” Adderly frowned, his gaze flicking from Jamie to Josephine to Father. “Isn’t that the man who calls himself a wrangler?”
“Yes, it is.” Josephine smiled at the two men staring at her; one in confusion, the other in fury. “Mr. Jessup was kind enough to bring the horse back for Jamie when he returned from Scotland.”
“Without asking me?”
“I saw no need to involve you, Father, since—as Jamie’s mother—it was my decision to accept or reject the gift on my son’s behalf.”
“Well, now that Adderly is here,” Father ground out, “he can decide which horse his son will keep.”
Jamie looked at Josephine in panic. “But I love Blaze. I don’t want to give him up.”
“You’ll do as you’re told, boy!”
“Father,” Josephine murmured in warning.
“No!” He rounded on her, fists clenched at his sides. “This lack of gratitude is precisely what comes of coddling the boy too much. I’ll not be talked back to in my own home, nor will I allow a guest to be treated in such a disrespectful manner! Boy, go to your room!”
Josephine met Jamie’s stricken look with a weak smile. Better he should be absent while they sorted this out. He was confused enough as it was. “It’s all right, dearest. Off you go now.”
As soon as Jamie raced inside, Josephine whirled on her father. “That was completely uncalled for!”
“Please,” William cut in, his face flushed—with embarrassment or anger, Josephine couldn’t tell which. “This is entirely my f
ault. I should have checked with each of you first. Let’s allow the boy time to think it over, then I’m certain he’ll make the proper decision.”
Still glaring at her father, Josephine nodded. How humiliating.
“Of course,” Father said, his own face ruddy with anger. “After you, sir,” he added, waving them inside.
Josephine’s stomach was tied into such a tight knot she didn’t know how she could sit through a meal in the company of these two men, much less swallow a single bite of food.
• • •
At noon, Henny brought lunch down to the stable.
Although Gordon had been out of bed for over a week, he still couldn’t manage the slope, even with the crutches the doctor had brought, so he continued to take his meals in the bunk room with Rafe. By his smile when Henny walked into the room, he didn’t seem to mind.
“Faith, and you wouldn’t believe the shouting!” Fueled by righteous anger, the pretty Irishwoman fluttered about, settling Gordon in a chair with his injured leg propped on his cot, then passing out their plates and mugs—tea for Gordon, coffee for Rafe. “And right in front of the house where God and all the staff could hear. It’s a scandal, is what it is!”
Rafe frowned, food forgotten. “What happened?”
“Miss Josephine gave back as good as she got, that’s what happened! And I don’t blame her for it. The master should have kept quiet, rather than tearing into her and Master Jamie in front of the baron. It was a disgrace, so it was.”
“Henny, what happened!”
She reared back in surprise. “There’s no need to shout, Mr. Jessup.”
If Josie was in trouble, he needed to know now, before he went charging up there. Striving for patience, he set his mug on the floor by his foot, and the plate on the end of the bed. “Then, please, Henny, tell me what happened.”
She let out a deep sigh. “It’s all because of that horse the baron gave Jamie.”
“The gray gelding the groom brought down?” Gordon asked.
Henny nodded. “Thunder, he’s called.”
Rafe was astounded. “Adderly gave that horse to Jamie?” No wonder Josie was upset. The animal was entirely unsuitable for a boy Jamie’s age.
“He did. And when Master Jamie said he already had the horse you had brought him and he didn’t want to give him up, his grandfather started shouting about disrespect to the baron and such like, then sent the lad to his room. Sure, and Miss Josephine was chewing nails, so she was, and I don’t blame her. To his credit, the baron tried to smooth things over, but when they went in to lunch, they were all three scowling like vicars on race day. Faith, and it’s a mess.”
It sounded like it. But Rafe trusted Josie to send word if she needed him.
This is for me to do, she’d said. A gentle way of telling him this was a part of her past and didn’t include him. If he went up there now, uninvited and rushing to the rescue, it would be the same as telling her he didn’t believe she was capable or strong enough to handle it.
Hell. She was stronger than he would ever be. Bullets and bluster might be his weapons, but they were no match for Josie’s endurance and strength of character. She had withstood sneers and barbed comments for years now. She could certainly handle a weasel and a drunkard.
But just in case, he’d be here—waiting and watching and hoping she would come to him if she needed him. And even if she didn’t.
Instead, it was Jamie who came. And Rafe soon learned that if a woman’s tears rattled him, those of a child were like a knife in his chest.
The boy ran into the stable just as Henny was going out. Seeing the look of terror and despair on his tear-streaked face, Rafe dropped the halter he was carrying, and stepped forward. “What’s wrong?”
Jamie kept running, almost knocking Rafe off balance when he plowed into him, his arms going around his waist in a tight hold.
“I don’t want him! They can’t make me take him!”
Startled and not sure what to do, Rafe glanced at Henny, watching from the doorway.
But she was crying, too, one hand pressed over her mouth.
Realizing he was on his own, Rafe tentatively rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Jamie, talk to me.”
Tears. Muffled words. Sobs.
Gently pulling the arms from around his waist, Rafe dropped to one knee, and was further surprised when Jamie threw himself against his chest, his thin arms going around his neck this time.
“I won’t give him up!”
It felt odd. The shaking body pressed against his felt odd. Too small and fragile to be causing such a ruckus in his heart. “Jamie. Son, what’s wrong?”
Son. It just slipped out. But it felt right. Holding him felt right.
Motioning to Henny to go on, Rafe continued to hold the boy and stroke his back like he did with Pems when the stallion was afraid. After a few minutes, the hitching sobs dwindled to wet sniffles. “Talk to me, son. Tell me what’s wrong.”
The dam broke under a rush of angry words. “I won’t give up Blaze. He’s my horse and I won’t give him up. Ever!”
“All right.”
The boy drew back, nose and eyes running, but defiance flashing in his reddened eyes. “And I don’t want Adderly for a father, either! I don’t want to go live with him. I want to go to America with you.”
Unsure how to respond, Rafe bought time by brushing a lock of blond hair off the boy’s sticky brow.
“We could take Mother and Blaze and Pems with us,” Jamie added, warming to his plan. “And I shall never come back to see Grandfather or the baron ever again.”
“What about the gray? Thunder, I believe he’s called.”
“I won’t see him, either. And I won’t bring him to America with us.”
Rafe wondered what he’d unleashed with his earlier ill-advised remark about going to America. Who knew kids were so literal?
“Here.” He pulled out a faded neckerchief and pressed it into Jamie’s hand. “Wipe up.” He hid his distaste while the boy smeared snot all over his face, then shook his head when Jamie tried to hand the kerchief back. “No, you can keep it.”
“Truly?”
“Sure.
Grinning, the boy stuffed the damp, wadded kerchief into his pocket like it was a rare treasure.
“The gray is a fine horse, Jamie.”
“I still don’t want him.”
Rafe thought for a moment, then tried a different tack. “A fellow can have more than one horse, you know. More than one father, too.”
Jamie blinked at him, hope and confusion reflected in his hazel eyes.
“In fact, I have several horses, myself.”
“Several boys, too?”
“No. No boys. Or girls.” Not yet, anyway. But the prospect of another towheaded boy and a pretty, dark-haired daughter moved him in an unexpected way.
“I could be your boy. If you wanted.”
“I’d like that. Very much.”
“And perhaps Mother could be your wife. That way, she wouldn’t have to marry the baron.”
“I’d like that, too.” Rising, Rafe rested a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “How about we take another look at Thunder.” He gently steered the boy toward the gray’s stall. “Even if you decided not to ride him, I think he’s too fine a horse to let go. In fact, he might be a good companion for Blaze. What do you think?”
• • •
“I had another reason for visiting today,” Adderly said, carefully cutting his chilled breast of duckling into tiny, precise pieces before moving on to begin slicing his glazed carrots.
Josephine remembered that about him. Having had the rules of the dining table drilled into her by her dragon of an etiquette tutor, she recalled how surprised she had been at her first dinner with William when she had seen him cut all of his food into tiny portions before he took his f
irst bite. She had been so fearful of making a mistake in front of a baron’s son she hadn’t expected him to be the one to disregard the rules.
Cut. Set the knife across the top of your plate. Take a bite. Set down the fork. Chew at least ten times. Sip from your goblet. Gently press the napkin to your lips, return it to your lap, and begin again. She could still remember Mrs. Capshaw barking those words in her ear. No wonder she had such a delicate digestion.
Not so Rafe. He ate like a man who enjoyed his food—and needed a lot of it to fuel that big body. A man with an appetite. When he chewed, it did the most fascinating things to his cheeks and jaw, and when he swallowed . . . She smiled, remembering how it seemed to involve every muscle and tendon in his throat, all the way down to that small hollow at the base of his neck, where sometimes a few dark, curling hairs—
“Daughter?”
Startled, she looked up to find both men staring expectantly at her.
“What do you think of the baron’s invitation?” Father prodded.
“Invitation?”
“To visit his home at Fell Ridge. Weren’t you listening?”
Fell Ridge? The scene of his wife’s recent death?
Misreading her hesitancy, William sought to reassure her. “It would be entirely proper. My maiden aunt is visiting and will act as chaperone. And of course, you may bring your maid, or my aunt will be happy to provide one. As for traveling arrangements, I will accompany you on horseback, rather than ride inside the carriage.”
Too bad he hadn’t considered propriety eight years ago. But what Josephine found even more disturbing was that within weeks of his wife’s passing, Adderly sought to parade her replacement before his bereaved son. “Isn’t it a bit soon to be entertaining? Edward must still be in distress after his mother’s recent passing.”
“That’s precisely why I’ve invited you and Jamie to visit.” William seemed to wrestle with himself then come to a decision. “Edward isn’t well. An incurable weakness of the heart, the doctors say. That and his mother’s death have pushed him into a deep state of melancholy. It is my hope that if he has someone to play with—a brother—he might revive somewhat.”
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