Hunting the Hero

by Heather Boyd

  He glanced up at Miss Clark and noticed the frown had been replaced by amusement. He winked at her. “I thought we were to meet last night.”

  “Forgive me,” she murmured, lowering her eyes. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind the delay too much if you received a visit from your daughters along with conducting our meeting. I became caught up in a story last night and lost track of the time.”

  He juggled Poppy so she could see her sisters. “What was the story about?”

  “Their mother,” Miss Clark told him, her eyes softening when she looked down upon him. “Nurse was kind enough to recall some events in Lady Grayling’s childhood for us. Your daughters were enthralled and took a little longer than normal to fall asleep afterward.”

  “Ah,” he murmured, but he was rather surprised that his former lover, now his children’s governess, had encouraged talk of his late wife. But then, Miss Clark was not particularly sentimental about certain things. She undoubtedly didn’t find mention of Augusta’s life the least bit troubling. “What did nurse have to recount?”

  “Oh, lots of things. She mentioned the horse Lady Grayling loved to ride when she was just Willow’s age, the friends she had, and the mischief they occasionally got into when no one was looking. The way she loved her daughters and how she sees so much of Lady Grayling in them.”

  Constantine glanced at his daughters and saw that their lips had lifted into smiles, eyes sparkling at the mention of the resemblance. He saw it every day but rarely mentioned it to them. How clever of Miss Clark. She’d discovered in a day how to make his children smile again.

  He’d never meant them to forget Augusta. He would try harder to keep her memory alive.

  When Poppy began to grizzle, Miss Clark moved to take her. “I believe the young lady requires a rest. She’s had an eventful morning knocking over wooden block towers. If it’s not too much trouble, might we have more? There are not enough for all three to play with at once. And this little miss does enjoy causing havoc.”

  “Of course. You may have whatever you require.”

  “Thank you.”

  Poppy went to Miss Clark easily, Maisy obediently crawled out from beneath the desk, but Willow lingered over her drawing.

  His eldest wasn’t at all ready to end her visit. The thought pleased him immensely. “I can bring her up in a little while,” he murmured softly. “Let her finish.”

  “Very well, my lord.” Juggling her bundle, Miss Clark held her hand out to Maisy and guided her from the room. He watched them go, doing his best not to stare at the gentle sway of Miss Clark’s body, and then turned his attention to his daughter.

  Constantine craned his neck to get a better view of Willow’s efforts. The rough pencil strokes he remembered from previous visits had smoothed. It almost looked like a dog instead of a lump with sticks. “That’s coming along nicely.”

  Willow held the picture out in front of her and eventually nodded. “It’s Mama’s horse. She had a black pony.”

  “I’m sure she would have loved your picture,” he assured her.

  Willow smiled and then she carefully slid the pencil across the desk toward him before looking toward the door, lower lip between her teeth.

  He touched her hands and she jumped. “Shall we rejoin your sisters?”

  As Willow nodded and clutched her drawing to her chest, it occurred to him that the girls had rarely been apart for any length of time. By necessity they were always together, but the surprising thing was he wouldn’t mind spending more time with them. He’d speak with Miss Clark before he went to bed and arrange another, longer, visit. Perhaps they could visit him while Poppy napped.

  When they reached the nursery, Miss Clark was bent over the cot, singing softly to Poppy in an effort to lull her to sleep. Maisy watched from another bed, her dolly clutched tight in her arms. Miss Clark’s head lifted and she smiled at Willow’s picture before resuming her lullaby and patting Poppy’s back. Willow scrambled up beside Maisy on her bed and then she too only had eyes for their governess. Constantine could understand the fascination.

  No matter how many times he found himself in Miss Clark’s presence, he always detected yet another feature, flaw, or behavior that contradicted what he thought he knew. If she had turned her talents to the stage, she’d have made an excellent actress. As it was, she merely performed for him. Constantine was utterly smitten despite the layers of misdirection.

  He backed out the door as quietly as he could, amused by how easily Miss Clark had adjusted to his children’s life. There were few overt signs of the woman he’d first met. Anyone else looking at her now would never suspect her of being new at this career. She handled his children’s care as if she had spent her whole life around the young. It gave him hope that she would stay with them for a long time to come.

  Perhaps forever.

  Buoyed by an optimism he hadn’t experienced in quite some time, Constantine headed for his bedchamber. He’d go for a long ride while the weather held because very soon he might be housebound with a woman he wanted more and more each day. The long cold days of deepest winter had been more enjoyable when he’d had Augusta to share them with, and he wasn’t looking forward to spending another winter alone with his own company.

  As he finished changing for the ride, he glanced at the connecting doorway. His wife’s room was exactly how she’d left it. He hadn’t had the heart to pack away her possessions after her death. Up until now, he’d shied from the idea. Yet as he walked to the door and stepped quickly inside before he lost his nerve, he didn’t have the same hesitation.

  The room had a chilly, unlived-in air, yet he remembered how it had been when his wife had lived. He’d spent many an enjoyable hour on that bed, and only the bedding had been changed from the day of Poppy’s birth. A maid still tended the surfaces to free them of dust. Augusta could sweep in from her dressing room at any moment and not find anything amiss.

  But she had died and he had to accept it. Let her go and look to the future. One day he had to marry. He still needed an heir. But that need was exactly the event that had led to Augusta’s death.

  He breathed out slowly, letting his mind turn over those last terrible days. The pregnancy had not gone well from the beginning and Augusta had gone into labor in the dead of night. By late afternoon, the physician had suggested he pray. He’d done that, but it hadn’t been enough. As Poppy had opened her eyes upon the world, Augusta had slipped away, so quietly that he hadn’t realized she was gone until the doctor broke the news to him.

  He should have been with her. He could have proved to her one last time that he’d loved her above all others. He’d been faithful from the day they’d met until recently and regretted nothing of their life together save that it had ended all too soon. Only with Calista had he found an echo of that same contentment, but now even that was denied him.

  He thumped the post of the bed he’d loved and lost in. A ride was just what he needed. The cold air might blast his regrets into dust.

  CHAPTER 15

  MEREDITH LET THE nursery curtain fall back into place just as the sun set on a fulfilling day and Grayling’s horse thundered toward the Hall. She was rather impressed by how easily she’d made the transition from whore to governess. Each job held its own set of challenges, but she had to admit caring for three small girls far exceeded her expectations. She’d actually enjoyed an entire day for a change. That had rarely happened in her former career.

  She smiled as she recounted the time when a day at the House had been pleasant. Grayling had been there, half-naked and smiling cheekily because he was planning something wicked to fill up the time they had together. If only she could have that too, then Meredith would have no cause to be unhappy. Yet Meredith had not had intimate relations in more days than she cared to think about. Celibacy, of any kind, was rather a foreign state for her to be in.

  When she had taken Grayling’s daughters to see him, it had been as much for their benefit as her own. With careful questioning, she had d
iscovered from the other servants that daily visits between father and daughters had ceased some time ago. It seemed Grayling could go for days without remembering to come see them, so she’d made the decision to take them to him. She wouldn’t allow him to forget the three little girls needed him, too. With their mother gone, he was the only one who mattered.

  Yet when she’d met him, looking so lost and lonely in his book-lined room, she’d forgiven his preoccupation with estate affairs, but only just. Men were not always ideally suited to raising young girls. They needed a push in the right direction to share their lives. The visit from his children had considerably altered his mood toward the one she knew best. She’d never seen him without the abundant confidence and vigor with which he had boldly introduced himself at the bawdy house. The change was rather marked and she’d missed the teasing light in his eyes when he’d spoken to her, his prim governess.

  It was very easy to see Lady Grayling was sorely missed, not only by her husband and children but also by the entire staff of Stanton Harold Hall. She didn’t envy Grayling’s second wife, whoever she ended up being. Encouraging the staff to speak of the late countess with the children at her side had been remarkably easy. The servants’ obvious devotion to a woman dead these past two years would make any newcomer feel inferior without much effort. A timid soul would find it painful to be compared to a first wife, especially if she hoped to lay claim to Grayling’s heart.

  Meredith quietly paced the room. Restlessness had settled into her bones in the past hour and she hoped additional exercise would exhaust her body before she attempted to sleep tonight. The sounds of Stanton Harold Hall at night were so different from what she was used to. Her bed was lumpy, the sheets scratched, and the snoring servant in the next chamber kept interrupting her rest several times a night. She even missed the sounds of ardent lovemaking, although she’d never consciously noticed them before.

  It was probably because she slept alone. She hadn’t always wanted the touch of a man every moment of the night, but she had missed Grayling. In the dead of last night, she’d considered creeping from the nursery to find where he slept.

  Meredith raised her face to the ceiling and silently cursed her impossible fantasy. That part of her life was over. She couldn’t go to Grayling to have sex with him just because she wanted to. He wasn’t hers. He never had been. He’d paid to inhabit her bed and nothing more. Even now, he paid her to make his life easier. Grayling was a man clinging to the past with a woman universally admired. The more Meredith learned, the more certain she became that she had imagined any deepening of affection on his part. His wife had been a saint and Meredith was so far from that it was laughable.

  She took another silent turn about the room while she suppressed her growing sense of inadequacy. She hadn’t enquired after Lady Grayling’s character to be nosy. She’d asked because Grayling’s daughters were clearly so very lonely without their mother. She knew what it was like to lose a parent. Little things were forgotten so easily, and with them being so young, the only way to keep their mother’s memory alive was to have everyone begin to speak candidly of her again. It just didn’t help Meredith remain in a good mood.

  “Ooh, Cook is in such a mood today,” Miss Cunningham exclaimed as she burst into the nursery without thought for the sleeping children. “Someone stole her best laying chickens right from under our noses and there’s not enough eggs for breakfast in the morning.”

  Meredith quickly shushed the girl and took the tea tray from her hands. “Then we won’t all get eggs for breakfast. Now go back the way you’ve come and quietly. The ladies are still sleeping.”

  Miss Cunningham had no sense to be around the young. She was as scatterbrained as any debutante before her first ball. Meredith wasn’t about to have her hard work foiled. The children needed a routine and she intended to establish one immediately. Luckily, she and the late Lady Grayling shared a trait for organization that the senior servants approved of. Without that similarity to back up her intentions, Meredith would have undoubtedly had more trouble setting her plans in motion.

  She set the tray on a side table and placed her hand on Nurse’s good arm. When the older woman slowly woke from her doze, Meredith asked, “Tea?”

  “That would be lovely. I shouldn’t sleep the day away but it’s ever so calm in here.” Nurse glanced across the room to where the children still rested. “Never known them all to go down so easily since Lady Poppy came along. You have a gift.”

  “Children are easy to manage.” Just like men, Meredith thought with amusement as she set the cup and saucer down beside the nurse, within easy reach of her good hand. “They only want every moment of your attention until they don’t need it anymore.”

  Nurse reached for her cup and sipped the hot beverage. “They’ve had lots of servants fussing over them. You somehow do a better job of it than anyone since their mother died.”

  Meredith knew high praise when she heard it. She dipped a quick curtsy, balancing her teacup between her fingers, and then took a place opposite the old woman. “They are lovely girls. They would make anyone proud.”

  The older woman snorted. “I suppose you’ve got more questions. What else do you want to know?”

  “Everything, but not so much for me as for them. They enjoyed your stories last night very much. Do you feel up to sharing more of their mother’s antics tonight?”

  The nurse’s eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you begin their studies soon? Your predecessors liked them to walk in circles with a book balanced on their heads.”

  “What a ridiculous thing to do with a child so young. There is plenty of time for lessons in deportment yet.” She shook her head. No wonder the girls had been so unhappy when she’d arrived. A five-year-old had no need to be proper so young. A little laxity in the social graces would be excused and taught by example later. “I think having Lady Willow speak to me and laugh along with her sisters is the first step on the long road ahead. Needlework, languages, and the perfect curtsy can wait. I’ve heard the lass speak so infrequently. She’s much too quiet.”

  The nurse’s expression grew dark. “She saw too much. Heard too much of her mother’s last day. God forgive me for not protecting her better, but everything was in chaos. Grayling was inconsolable and we had a wee motherless babe in arms to find a wet nurse for.”

  God had other business than the needs of women. The only person she could rely upon was herself. She patted the older woman’s lax hand gently, noting the chill of her skin and the lack of reaction. “Then let’s fill Willow’s mind with better memories, enough to make her smile and play again. It is my hope the other servants will help her along the path to happiness.”

  Nurse’s face grew serious as she considered. “I’ll speak to Cook and the housekeeper. They knew our lady the longest of everyone. Mrs. Smith met with Lady Grayling daily. She should have many stories to relate. They’ll support your plan and will stand up to Cunningham if needed. He thinks we shouldn’t mention our lady near the girls. He’s afraid of upsetting them.”

  Meredith shook her said. “But that’s why they are so miserable. Having your mother wrenched from your life leaves a yearning that cannot ever be filled completely. As they age, they forget so much. It’s up to us to prevent that.”

  “You’ve very strong opinions for a governess.” Nurse’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you say His Lordship found you?”

  Although Nurse was a rather inquisitive creature, Meredith gave the same answer she gave to everyone who’d asked so far. “Lady Farnsworth recommended me for the post.”

  “And where the countess found you don’t bear mentioning?” Ridgeway snorted when Meredith remained silent. “The less said the better, I suspect. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I best head below.”

  When Ridgeway stood, the older woman tottered a bit and then slowly left the room. Meredith noticed she dragged her right foot immediately and was reminded that she’d seen this sort of ailment before in a place she’d never mention being and be
aring a name that wouldn’t ever be repeated. Another part of her past she’d locked away and hidden. There was no cure for Ridgeway. She would always suffer the weakness in her limbs.

  “Thank you,” she called softly, both for Ridgeway’s support and for dropping her inquisition into Meredith’s past. However, nurse was too focused on getting her limb to cooperate to notice she’d been spoken to. Poor woman. A house of this size must present such difficulties in getting around in her condition. It was perhaps good that she only went belowstairs but once a day. She wouldn’t return for an hour yet.

  When Meredith could no longer hear nurse’s heavy tread in the hall, she stood to check on the children. All three were sound asleep, limbs sprawled on the bedding in the way that only young children could consider comfortable. They were sweet little things. Adorable together and close. When one stubbed her toe, the others came to soothe her.

  A wave of longing swept over her. If she ever had a family of her own, she hoped her children would always be there for each other. She hoped they would never drift apart and always be supportive of each other’s lives rather than cause each other pain. She clenched her fists. There was nothing worse than knowing your family had betrayed you.

  When she turned away from her contemplation of the sleeping angels and faced the door, she startled. Grayling stood there, still dressed for riding and looking every inch the lord she’d first met. She took in his windblown hair and high color to his cheeks and concluded the ride had driven his doubts from his mind.

  She smiled and drew closer to greet him. “Do you need anything, my lord?” She glanced over her shoulder and peered into the adjoining room. “The children may not wake for some time if you were after them.”

  Grayling said nothing, but his fingers rose to touch her short-cropped hair. The decision to clip it had not been taken lightly, but it was infinitely more practical than keeping it long. She no longer needed to fuss with it for hours on end before facing each new day. A servant had little leisure for personal grooming.