by Regina Scott
She bent low and tapped the tip of his nose. “Yes. I. Am.”
His face split into an enormous grin. “I like when you’re silly.”
“That is a very good thing, my little Lewis, because I am always silly.”
His eyes darted to his father, then back to her, then back to him again. “May we play chasing?”
It was by far Lewis’s favorite game, though it was exhausting. The child could run for hours without growing tired of the endeavor. She had no such endurance. She suspected Porter didn’t either.
“His nursemaids would likely appreciate us returning him with some energy spent,” Porter said.
“Do you really think we will be dragging his sleeping frame back inside rather than the other way around? Because I suspect he can outrun us both.”
“I more than suspect; I know.”
She took in a quick breath of cold air. “I have an idea.” She bent low and said to Lewis, “We should play hide and go seek.”
He bounced up and down, nodding eagerly. “Please. Please. Please.”
“Follow my lead, Lewis. I know how to convince your father.”
Staying low on Lewis’s level, she looked up at Porter, jutted out her lower lip and gave him her most pitiful look of begging. Lewis copied her expression.
Porter burst out laughing. He was not an unhappy or grumbly person, but he did not often laugh out loud. She wished he did, though. The sound of it was almost magical.
“I think we should play hide and go seek,” Porter said.
“Perfect.” Chloe stood straight once more and took hold of Lewis’s hand. “I think your father should have to do the searching first.”
“Very well. I will give you until the count of twenty.” Porter closed his eyes and began to count aloud.
“I know the perfect place.”
Chloe pulled Lewis gently toward a high shrubbery along the side of the path. A break in the bushes allowed them to step behind and to the other side. She had walked in this particular garden before and knew that a small statue sat up against the back side of the shrub, with cobblestones all around it that she and Lewis could stand on and avoid the mud of the snow-moistened ground.
They hunched down a bit to the side of the statue. Lewis tucked himself up against her, and she wrapped her arms firmly around his middle. He bounced and shook as they stood there, waiting for Porter to come looking. Lewis was only ever still when he was asleep. It was little wonder Porter so often looked entirely exhausted.
“Will Papa find us?” Lewis asked in an eager whisper.
“I hope he does eventually, otherwise we are going to get very cold.”
He bounced even faster. “We are hiding good?”
“We are hiding the most good of anyone.”
“Anyone ever?” Awe filled the question.
She pulled him in closer. “Ever and ever.”
Very little time passed before she heard Porter’s footsteps approach. Truth be told, she and Lewis were not very well hidden. She knew the little boy too well to think he had patience enough for a prolonged bout of hiding.
“He’s coming. He’s coming.” Lewis’s whisper grew louder with each word.
Porter appeared in front of them. He looked about, making quite a show of not seeing them there.
Chloe stood, giving Lewis a nudge. “Run, Lewis. Save yourself!”
He darted. Porter reached for him but missed by too large a degree for his effort to have been anything but for show. Chloe made to rush past as well, but he caught her about the middle.
“You’re not getting away so easily.”
“Save me, Lewis,” she said with a grin.
Porter’s laugh rumbled against her. “I suspect, Chloe, you are something of a mischievous influence on him.”
“I certainly hope so.”
She met his eye, as she’d done many times before. In that moment, however, something was different. She was oddly more aware of him: of the precise shade of his brown eyes, the tiniest asymmetry in his smile, the hint of sandalwood in the scent of his shaving soap. The warmth of his firm, steady embrace. Her lungs seemed to narrow even as her heart expanded almost painfully in her chest.
“We are fortunate indeed to have you in our lives.” He spoke with a quiet earnestness that tugged ever harder at her heart.
She recognized the feelings for what they were. She simply didn’t understand where they were coming from. She’d known Porter for ages and, though she had always truly and deeply liked him, she hadn’t ever felt something deeper. Until now.
“Papa, do I need to save Chloe?” Lewis stood near, asking the question with his brow puckered.
“That all depends,” Porter said. “If she wishes to stay and we want her to stay, then she doesn’t need to be rescued.”
She knew he was indulging his son’s imagination, but his words raised a question in her already befuddled mind: what did she want?
“Can we hide now, Papa?” Lewis asked. “Chloe can look for us.”
Porter’s arms slipped away. Chloe missed the feel of them on the instant. This was so very unexpected.
She managed a smile and agreed to continue the game. But her mind was spinning. Porter Bartrum had only ever been a friend. If her view of him had changed and her feelings grown more tender but he was actively looking elsewhere for a wife, their once easy and congenial connection was about to become extremely awkward.
* * *
From the window of her bedchamber, Adelaide watched the game unfolding below. These three were already very much a family, though none of them seemed to realize it. There was love and tenderness between them all. How was it people were so often unaware of what was so obvious to everyone else?
This matchmaking assignment was proving to be a rather simple one. Nothing stood between the would-be couple other than their own lack of awareness. Chloe, she felt certain, was beginning to see the truth for herself. Adelaide would focus on helping Porter make the same discovery.
The answer would be obvious to both of them soon enough. They simply needed a bit of matchmaker magic. Fortunately, that was Adelaide’s specialty.
Chapter Five
When Porter tucked Lewis in to bed, the boy spoke of nothing other than their time playing in the snow with Chloe. Not everyone had the patience or energy to keep up with him. Heaven knew Porter struggled at times to do so. Having Chloe at the house party was a blessing. That she and Vance visited often was even more heaven-sent. Lewis was comfortable with her, and she loved him enough to appreciate him when others too often found him only exhausting.
Mrs. Northrop ran Porter to ground the next afternoon. He’d seen her many times over the course of the house party but had interacted with her very little. He’d tried to believe she was working on finding him a match, that the fee he would “donate”—ladies not being in a position to directly accept payment for work they did—would not be wasted. Yet the very determined glint in her eyes made him instantly uneasy.
“I have made an arrangement,” she said without preamble. “Mrs. Talbot is visiting with the ladies here at the party and has expressed her wish to not have to walk back to her home. I quite casually mentioned that you had planned to go for a drive today and, perhaps, could take her home. She was quite pleased at the prospect. She will be ready to leave shortly.”
The legendary matchmaker was very direct, that was certain.
“I’m to—she expects that—?”
“She has no suspicion that I have arranged this for any reason other than to help her return home in comfort.” Mrs. Northrop gave a quick nod. “She is a proper age for you. Her manners are impeccable. Her financial situation is such that she would not be pursuing a connection in order to secure her comfort. More to the point, I have heard her speak longingly of children. You did indicate your primary motivation is to provide your son with a mother figure.”
Porter nodded. Mrs. Northrop had the unnerving ability to render him mute.
“Drive her hom
e,” Mrs. Northrop instructed. “Get to know her. When you return I will let you know what else I have arranged.”
“There will be—there will be more?”
She eyed him as if he were making no sense. “Of course there will be. You wish for a wife, and we have ample options here but little time. We must press forward.”
She wasn’t wrong on that score.
He released a breath, then firmed his resolve. “I will see that the chaise is prepared.”
He stood by the equipage a moment, convincing himself to proceed. When he’d first engaged Mrs. Northrop’s services, he’d been determined, if not entirely enthusiastic. Where had his resolve fled?
“Lewis needs this,” he reminded himself. Still, his feet dragged as he pulled himself inside.
Mrs. Talbot was tugging her gloves on. She smiled when she saw him. “Thank you, Mr. Bartrum, for your generosity. I had a significant walk ahead of me.”
He dipped his head and motioned for her to precede him outside.
“Will Lewis be joining us?” she asked over her shoulder as he handed her up into the carriage.
“He will not be.”
She looked genuinely disappointed. That seemed to him a good sign. With both of them situated, he flicked the reins and set the horse in motion.
“How old is Lewis?”
At least she had chosen an easy topic. “He is nearly four years old.”
“A very active age, from what I understand.” She sighed wistfully. “My marriage was not blessed with children, but I do adore them.”
Promising. “He is quite active. Not everyone finds themselves equal to the task of keeping pace with him.”
She did not appear concerned. “Does he enjoy being read to?”
“Sometimes.”
“I am certain he enjoys games,” she said.
“Thoroughly.”
Her smile softened. “I have so wished for a child to play with and read to, to sit with and teach and watch grow.”
This was precisely what he wanted to find, yet he felt no relief or enthusiasm. Indeed, he was growing more and more uneasy.
“Do you think Lewis would like to hear a story?” she asked.
That was not an easy thing to predict ahead of time. “Should he request one when you are nearby, I will be sure to inform you.”
Mrs. Talbot nodded. “I would enjoy that greatly.”
They continued down the lane toward Mrs. Talbot’s home. She asked after Lewis’s favorite pastimes and if he was looking forward to Christmas. She asked Porter if he enjoyed being a father.
Conversation flowed easily between them, not slowing even as they pulled under the front portico of her home. She thanked him before being handed down by a footman. Porter set the chaise in motion once more. His mind was not easy.
Mrs. Talbot was well-mannered, good-natured, and clearly interested. Interested in Lewis, at least. Perhaps that was the source of his discouragement. She liked children, felt a pull toward his son, but seemed utterly indifferent to him.
“I don’t particularly want someone in my life for my sake. Do I?” No one but the horse was nearby, so he didn’t expect a reply. Still, the answer felt surprisingly crucial. “Do I?”
He was struck in that moment by the strength of his emotional response. He did want someone in his life. He was lonely and, other than the company of a three-year-old, alone. His heart quietly longed for someone to care about and care for him. Without warning, his previously simple search took on a new dimension.
He fully intended to retire to his bedchamber and attempt to sort all this out, but Mrs. Northrop was waiting for him in the entryway.
“Mr. Bartrum, excellent timing. I am having a lovely visit with Mrs. and Miss Cunningham and intend for you to join us.” She took the steps, looking back once to motion him to follow her. “Miss Cunningham is young, but not infantile. She is pleasant company and of a good family. I believe she is a fine candidate.”
He really couldn’t refuse. This was what he’d asked her to do. He followed her all the way to the sitting room where the lady in question, and her mother, were seated.
“Mr. Bartrum means to join us.” Mrs. Northrop gave the impression of this having been a happy coincidence.
He sat on the edge of a sofa, facing the Cunninghams.
“I understand you reside in Essex,” Miss Cunningham said. “I have visited there often. It is lovely.”
“I have always thought so.”
Mrs. Northrop spoke with Mrs. Cunningham, leaving Porter solely responsible for conversing with Miss Cunningham. He didn’t necessarily object, but conversations weren’t a strong suit of his.
“I was grateful to see the snow has stopped.” She did not seem to need him to lead the conversation.
He was happy enough to follow her lead, as he had done with Mrs. Talbot. “It does simplify travel. But my son will be disappointed. He thoroughly enjoys playing in the snow.”
That seemed to surprise her. “He must be soaked and muddy by the time he returns to the nursery.”
“Well, yes. But he’s also very pleased to have become soaked and muddy.”
“The nursemaids are likely a bit disgruntled, but I am certain they are accustomed to such things.” She didn’t speak unkindly nor with disapproval, but her response was a little disinterested in Lewis’s concerns. “Do you go to London for the Season?”
“I do.”
Her face lit. “I just adore Town when Society is there en masse. So many diversions, so many friends and acquaintances to call on.” She smiled much the same way Mrs. Talbot had when speaking of reading and playing with children. “I confess I am not one to run myself ragged attempting to attend every event, but the ones I enjoy, I thoroughly enjoy.”
He could relate to that. “As do I.”
“You simply must call on us when you are in Town next Season. We would very much like to continue our acquaintance.” A great deal of I lay in her use of we. It was flattering, especially after Mrs. Talbot’s lack of interest. And yet . . .
“I do hope you will dance with me should we find ourselves at the same ball.” It was a touch forward of her but not shockingly so. She was certainly not shy about letting her interest show.
“I confess I do not attend as many balls as some gentlemen. Being out so late night after night would make it difficult to be awake for my mornings with Lewis.”
Her brow pulled. “You spend every morning with him?”
“Nearly. He takes great joy in our time together. As do I.”
How was it possible she found that surprising? Mrs. Talbot had shown little interest in him. Miss Cunningham showed little interest in Lewis. For the first time since undertaking this apparently hare-brained scheme, he began to suspect he’d underestimated the complexity of it. He’d told Mrs. Northrop with such confidence what his wishes were for a wife only to realize now that what he’d told her was wrong.
He excused himself and, after a quick bow, slipped from the room.
A mother for Lewis, he’d said with finality. But he needed so much more. Someone who loved his son, yes, but also someone who loved him and whom he could love in return. Someone he felt at ease with rather than on edge. Someone who brought both him and his son joy and who would be made happier herself by having them in her life. Someone like—
He stopped in the middle of the corridor. His lungs suddenly turned to stone. His pulse echoed through his head as his mind seized the unexpected and undeniable truth.
Someone like Chloe.
* * *
Adelaide continued her conversation with the Cunninghams even as she indulged in a moment of inward triumph. Her arrangements that day would do the trick, she had no doubt. Both ladies she’d thrust upon Mr. Bartrum were perfectly acceptable and fine people. But neither offered the entirety of what he truly needed.
She had seen in his face the moment he’d realized that for himself. He knew what he didn’t want. Now, to help him see with clarity what he did.
/> Chapter Six
Chloe had managed to maintain her equilibrium despite her realization of the change her feelings had, at some point without her taking note of it, undergone where Porter Bartrum was concerned. He was actively seeking a wife, and she had no reason to believe she was anywhere on his list of possible choices.
She was not yet certain what she meant to do. Ought she to attempt to find a way onto that list? Ought she to speak with Mrs. Northrop? If Porter did not share her growing tenderness, admitting to her own would simply interject awkwardness into what had always been an easy and comfortable friendship. She didn’t want to lose that. Yet, once he was married and her heart was broken, she would lose it anyway.
“Miss Munson.”
Chloe had all but forgotten that she’d left open the door connecting her room with Mrs. Northrop’s. The matchmaker stood in the threshold.
“I understand from your brother that you are very accomplished on the pianoforte.”
She couldn’t help a laugh. “My brother is a troublemaker.”
Mrs. Northrop hadn’t smiled very often during the first few days of their acquaintance. She did so more easily now. “Was he gammoning me, then?”
“No, but he knows I don’t particularly care to play for others, and telling you I have that talent meant I would likely be asked to do so.” She narrowed her gaze theatrically on Mrs. Northrop. “Is that what you’ve sauntered in here to do? Force me to perform for strangers?”
Mrs. Northrop nodded solemnly. “I will require it under penalty of torture.”
“What if I consider the task itself to be torture?”
“Then I would remind you that Mr. Ellsworth expressed his wish for a musical evening, and he is not one to be put off a scent easily.”
Oh, what an apt description. “And he does know that I play.”
Mrs. Northrop offered an empathetic look. “You had best accept your fate.”
She managed to reconcile herself by the time the evening’s entertainment began. Mr. Ellsworth did, indeed, insist upon a musicale. Chloe kept a bit to the back of the room, hoping to at least not be selected to play first. As luck, or perhaps misfortune, would have it, Porter stood there as well. Never before had she been uncomfortable around him. But too much was yet unknown.
