Rock Hard Daddy: A Single Dad & A Virgin Romance

by Rye Hart

  “Harry was grinning from ear to ear when he told me,” Lady Constance said. She dabbed at her eyes with a dainty, lace-edged handkerchief. “He said that Lord Richard came calling on the horses. He was most amusing. How can we thank you? You’ve truly achieved a miracle.”

  It was always this way; families were so delighted that a small improvement had altered their loved one’s attitude that they thought the victory was won. It was Cressida’s duty to let them know that such was not the case.

  “We have begun well,” she acknowledged. “But we still have far to go.”

  “Yes, but he’s using the chair, he’s gone outside. I call that a tremendous advance, and I thank you for it,” said the Earl.

  “He has indeed advanced. But has he chosen to take his meals with the family, or engage with guests? No, I thought not. This is just a beginning. I truly don’t wish to dishearten you and I am glad of your pleasure. But I do not charge such steep rates for one small victory. My goal is for Lord Richard to walk. His doctors believe that this is possible; I have communicated with them. It depends on whether Lord Richard is willing to believe me when I say that it’s possible; whether he will credit a woman with knowing how to understand his medical condition; and whether he is willing to commit himself to what will be very hard work. He has weakened muscles which must be revitalized, you see. There are other parts of his anatomy which have been severely damaged by his fall.”

  Lady Constance made a sound and the Earl showed offense. Cressida, realizing that they believed she was referring to Lord Richard’s ability to sire an heir, rushed to explain.

  “My lord, Lady Constance, please do not misunderstand me. His limbs are weak; if he is to walk, we must make sure that his legs can regain strength, but we must also ascertain that his spine has not suffered irreparable harm. We must build up the strength in his arms and chest.”

  “Miss Lockwood, I understand that you are accustomed to discussing these intimate matters with medical professionals. But please exhibit some sensitivity for my wife, who is not accustomed to it.”

  Lady Constance held up her hand. “Please, dearest, do not worry on my account. I want to hear what Miss Lockwood has to say. We could not come to Edward’s aid and he died. Perhaps we can do better with Richard. I am willing to assist Miss Lockwood in any manner, no matter how indelicate, if the end result is for the good of our son.”

  Cressida hid a smile. Her father had warned her that frank talk such as she employed with him would not pass muster with her clients; she must remember that she was addressing people who shied away from a candid understanding of bodily functions. Nonetheless, she sensed that Lady Constance, far more so than her husband, was a realist when it came to her son’s condition and would not blanch from its ramifications. It was women, after all, who bore children and to Cressida’s mind, that equipped them for a much greater understanding of human anatomy than what their husbands were prepared to realize.

  “I apologize,” she said meekly. “I should not have forgotten that I am speaking to the family of my client, and not to other members of my profession.”

  The Earl nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Miss Lockwood,” Lady Constance spoke up, “we prefer that you deal honestly with us. I am sure that the Earl and I would rather the truth be told. Would we not, dearest?”

  The Earl looked as if he wanted no such thing, but he contented himself with a curt nod. “We have demonstrated our confidence in you, Miss Lockwood,” he said. “I trust that you will not disappoint us.”

  “I shall endeavor to earn your trust,” Cressida replied. “Please be aware that there are more battles in store.”

  Lady Constance sighed. “Our son is very strong-willed. I hope that this will not be unpleasant for you.”

  “It is a necessary part of the process,” she answered diplomatically.

  Cressida did not exaggerate. When she knocked on Lord Richard’s door the next morning, his response for her to enter was spoken in jovial tones. He was shaven, dressed, and already in his chair. “Good morning, Miss Lockwood. As you see, I am ready for you.”

  “Yes, I see. Very good,” she said absently as if her thoughts were elsewhere. “Have you eaten?”

  “I am not hungry. I will have something later.”

  “It’s very important for you to maintain a proper diet,” she said. “A hearty breakfast is imperative for a successful day. Shall I ask the kitchen to send up a plate for you or would you prefer to order your own food?”

  Lord Richard was taken aback. He had understood the previous day to be the prelude to a succession of like days. For a nurse to stall his progress upon such a trivial matter as breakfast was unfathomable. “My appetite, Miss Lockwood, is my own matter, and not my nurse’s.”

  “I beg to differ, Lord Richard. Your physical being depends on food in order to function. If we are to make the level of progress that I believe you are capable of, you must be strong enough to sustain the effort. You have been neglectful in that respect.”

  “Have you made inquiries in the kitchen of my meals?” he asked in disbelief. “Is there no area of my life which is beyond your intrusiveness?”

  “In a word, no. I seek your cure, not your good will, Lord Richard. We are nurse and patient, not master and servant, not friends. I was hired, Lord Richard, not invited. To that end, I must and will probe and provoke every aspect of life. If I am successful, and if you are cooperative, I believe that you will regain some, and perhaps all, of your former life. If you are not cooperative, I will fail and you will remain as you are, but condemned to bear the memory of what might have been possible had you been willing. I have discovered that the bacon served by your kitchen staff is the best I have ever eaten. Shall you have some?”

  She returned to his room in an hour.

  “As you see,” Lord Richard said, pointing to his empty plate, “I have eaten everything.”

  “I see. Was it good?”

  “Of course. Mrs. Mays is an excellent cook; she has worked for my family since I was a youth. She has served the Prince Regent when he was my family’s guest in our home.”

  “I rather imagine that Mrs. Mays is far more pleased when a member of the family returns an empty plate than by any servings offered to royalty,” Cressida said.

  He began to object, then realized that she had delivered a compliment. “Perhaps you are correct,” he said abruptly. “I have never had the conversation. Now that I have broken my fast to your satisfaction, pray tell what you have in mind for today. And why have you brought a butterfly net into my room?”

  Cressida, butterfly net in hand, walked past him to the window. Opening it, she turned to him with a smile. “You must rebuild your body, my lord. We will begin by strengthening the part of your body which has merely been neglected, but not injured. Allow me to demonstrate.”

  She pulled a chair close to the window and sat upon it. Butterfly net in hand, she raised her arm and, casting to the right, swept it across the expanse of the window. She did this five times, then switched arms and performed the same act with her left arm. Her slender body moved with a surprising display of power as she swung the net from side to side. Her bronze hair, arranged in a simple, not fashionable manner, was striking because of its color and volume. Lord Richard was surprised to discover that his nurse, although not conforming to his definition of beauty, possessed her own unique appeal. Lord Richard had been, by choice, absent from female company since his injury, except for his mother and household servants. Formerly an admirer of the ladies, and one who had availed himself of their charms, Lord Richard had demanding standards. It was not possible, to be sure, that a mere nursemaid could meet them. But as he watched the interplay of muscles in her back, the grace of her arms, and the tilt of her head, he found the view a pleasant one.

  Chapter Seven

  The Earl and his wife had sat down to supper and were already through the first course when the dining room doors opened and their son wheeled himself in.

 
“I apologize for my tardiness,” he said as he approached the table. “I was dressing for supper and the process takes longer when one’s arms are aching. Miss Lockwood---thank you, Louis,” he said to the footman who came forward to move the dining room chair out of the way so that Lord Richard could move himself closer to the table, “is a harsh taskmaster.”

  “If she is too demanding, my boy, do not feel obliged to obey her. She is in our employ and we can easily change the arrangement to a more favorable one,” his father said quickly.

  “Not in the least. I will not surrender, no matter how formidable the enemy.” Richard sliced a bite of mutton with his knife and ate it with pleasure. “She is quite mad, and I’ve told her so. Has she informed you how I spent this morning?”

  The Earl, a trifle bemused that his strong-willed son was willing to accede to the will of a hired nurse, shook his head. Lord Richard soon had his mother convulsed in tears of laughter as he regaled them with the story of the butterfly net and his efforts to, as he put it, “capture air in a net with holes.”

  “What an extraordinary thing to have you engaged in,” said the Earl.

  “Extraordinary indeed. She warned me that my arms will be aching like the very devil tomorrow morning.”

  “How does this help with the ultimate goal?” the Earl asked, avoiding the blunt phrasing in favor of a more polite reference to his son’s condition.

  “Miss Lockwood chastised me for allowing myself to neglect my wellbeing. She’s quite right; because my legs can’t move, I stopped using my arms with any exertion. She says that I will need a stronger upper body in order to rebuild the rest of me. Louis, please convey my compliments to Mrs. Mays; I believe she has outdone herself with tonight’s meal.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Louis stoically, his training overcoming his amazement at the comment from the Viscount.

  The Earl signaled for the wineglasses to be refilled. “Miss Lockwood appears to be a most formidable woman. A very unfeminine one, however. I am not surprised that she is unmarried.”

  “It would take a man of great courage to marry her,” Lord Richard agreed.

  “A woman must recognize the authority of her husband,” the Earl went on. “If a man is not the head of the household, chaos is the result. A woman must adjust to the bit and bridle, must she not, my dear?”

  “I hardly think matrimony and horsemanship are comparable, dearest,” Lady Constance replied.

  “I agree with Mama,” Lord Richard said. “I should think that a husband must bear in mind that, to use your analogy, Papa, a strong-minded wife has the capacity to throw him, should he prove mettlesome. I know whereof I speak, though not in matrimonial terms,” he added. “I propose a toast: to the ladies!”

  Lady Constance smiled as her menfolk raised their glasses to her. Her fond gaze rested upon her son, his eyes sparkling with delight over his meal, his toast, and his progress. She hoped that Miss Lockwood had not raised unrealistic hopes in her son by making him believe that he would walk again. Her thoughts returned again to the pistol that he kept in his room. She was not entirely reassured by Miss Lockwood’s assertion that he would not make use of the weapon and she would have preferred that, when the furnishings had been removed from Lord Richard’s office, the pistol had been taken out as well.

  Upstairs in the nursery, Miss Lockwood was enjoying her meal with Nanny, who was proving a much more cordial companion than Hobard. It turned out that Lord Richard had been Nanny’s favorite of the Pennington sons. “He was always just like those thoroughbreds he rode,” Nanny said. “Daring, fearless, no fence he wouldn’t jump, no race he wouldn’t win. He was happy in the cavalry, but of course when Lord Edward died, he did his duty, resigned his commission, and returned home. I don’t think much of that Lady Lenore, I’ll tell you, though it’s not my place to say so. Will you take more tea, Miss Lockwood?”

  “Thank you, yes. You have things quite cozy up here.”

  “His Lordship and Her Ladyship are very kind. They’ve told me to stay on so that I can mind the next generation. Not that there are any, of course, and Lord Gerald is still in school.”

  Nanny must have been young when she held her post in the nursery. Cressida guessed her age to be less than fifty years, but her dark hair was only lightly threaded with white and her posture as straight as that of a twenty-year old.

  “Is that the assumption? That Lord Richard will be unable to perform his duties in providing an heir, and the title will fall upon his brother?”

  Nanny looked scandalized. “Miss Lockwood! Surely that is a vulgar topic of conversation.”

  “I apologize. As a nurse, I must address the overall health of my patient.”

  “Oh, well, seen in that light,” Nanny answered, appeased. “If Lady Lenore had thought that he would be the next Earl in all ways,” she said meaningfully, “she like as not wouldn’t have broken off the engagement. A pretty girl like that doesn’t want to lose a title to a younger brother, if you get my meaning.”

  “Yes, I think I do,” Cressida said thoughtfully. “Tell me, Nanny, were they very much in love?”

  Nanny poured more tea into their cups. “Oh, I really couldn’t say. They made an attractive couple; she’s very pretty, of course. She came to Pennington Manor last year with her parents. She did not make any friends among the other servants, I can tell you that. Very high-handed, she is. Not around Lord Richard, as you might imagine; then it’s all pretty as you please. But when she’s not making an impression, well, let me tell you that she showed a side of herself that Lord Richard wouldn’t like. He’s just as strong-minded as you might expect, but he doesn’t have two sides to him.”

  Nanny’s supper might not be as elegant as the one served to the family, but the food was excellent. Spreading butter on a slice of fresh bread, Cressida phrased her next question carefully. “Would it help Lord Richard, do you think, if Lady Lenore were here to encourage him? I’m asking because, as you have known him since childhood, you perhaps know how he feels in a most intuitive way.”

  “Bless us, Miss Lockwood, I couldn’t claim to that kind of knowledge. But if you want my own thoughts on this, I would say that she should be kept as far away from him as possible. Lord Richard is very proud, and for Lady Lenore to see him as less than a full man would be a terrible blow for him. She was there when he fell, you know.”

  “Was she?”

  “Yes, she was the one that rode back to the Manor to let the Earl know that there had been a dreadful accident. That was a horrible day, I can tell you. Lady Lenore screaming, Lady Constance dealing with those hysterics while her son was injured and her still in mourning for Lord Edward. To my mind, Lady Lenore did not impress the family, despite that title and her beauty. But she’s not yet engaged; there are those who say she’s pining for Lord Richard. I say, if she’s pining for him, why not marry him?”

  “Perhaps her parents do not permit it.”

  “Pah! Lady Lenore rules her parents, I can tell you. Ever so meek they are around her. She broke off the engagement because she wouldn’t tie herself to half a man who couldn’t give her exactly what she wanted. That’s the truth of it, plain and simple, and Lord Richard knows it.”

  “If, as I hope, he regains his movement-“

  Nanny followed Cressida’s tactful premise. “That would be different. She’d be the wife of an Earl one day, and the mother of the next Earl in due time. Yes, I think she would marry him under those terms.”

  “Would he offer for her?”

  “Perhaps. I couldn’t say,” Nanny said reluctantly. “Great families marry for their own reasons. The Penningtons don’t need wealth, they have plenty of their own. But he must marry someone and Lady Lenore is a great beauty.”

  “What about her family?”

  “They’re not as wealthy as the Penningtons. I believe that Lady Lenore must marry well. That’s the tittle-tattle, anyway.”

  “I see.”

  When she returned to her own room after another cup of tea with
Nanny, Cressida thought about the conversation. There were things that she could not write in her book when she recorded her account of the day’s progress. She had trespassed into areas which bordered on gossip, something that she never did in her professional life. Why, she wondered, when she put the book away, doused the lamp and went to bed, had she probed Nanny for so many private details about Lord Richard? It was most unlike her to venture into such subjects as his engagement and any plans to marry. It was none of her business; he was merely a client.

  Chapter Eight

  Although he protested that Miss Lockwood seemed to be preparing him to take on Gentleman Jackson in a boxing match, Lord Richard found that he enjoyed the physical rigors which his nurse set for him. His upper extremities quickly regained their former strength as he continued with the exercises which she provided. But when she told him that it was time for him to work on his lower extremities, he did not conceal his unease.

  They were returning from the stables. Lord Richard met with El Diablo several times a week, their meetings always an occasion of mutual affection. He frequently stayed to give the stable hands his thoughts on the foals and colts which had been born and whether he thought they would continue the reputation for distinction for which the Pennington breed was known.

  Cressida no longer had to push Lord Richard in his chair. Although the Earl thought it unseemly, his son insisted on making the wheels of his chair move on his own power. He and his nurse traveled side-by-side back to the manor and their conversations evolved into a camaraderie.

  “I wonder if I could be content as I am,” he said.

  The November air was chilly, and the trees were bare of their leaves. As the season prepared to give way to winter, the temperatures were less accommodating to prolonged time outdoors. Lord Richard noticed that Miss Lockwood showed no signs of being deterred by the colder weather; her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright, her coloring made more vivid by the chilly air. Her hair, slightly disheveled by the wind, was even more becoming, he thought, for its imperfect state. He had always expected women to be impeccable in their attire, deportment and sense of style so that, whether he had been escorting his former fiancée or attending a ball, women complemented his appearance.