Little Jonas remained unconvinced.
“Why don’t you show Colonel Stratton your sword?” Mary Alice used a meaningful tone that made her polite words a command.
Jonas reluctantly handed the toy weapon over. “It’s not real blood,” he said. “Mama wouldn’t let me use pig’s blood.”
“Those poor, rational, put-upon mamas always spoil the fun,” Stratton said with a straight face, and then winked at Mary Alice.
“It’s what I wake up wondering every morning,” Mary Alice quipped. “How can I spoil everyone’s fun today?”
Stratton chuckled. He cleanly sliced the air with the sword, careful of Anna, who still circled, holding her picture.
“Do you know how to sword-fight?” Little Jonas asked, impressed.
“I know a few moves.” Stratton executed a lunge at an invisible opponent.
Little Jonas’s eyes became as big and shiny as newly minted sovereign coins.
“Colonel Stratton fought with the Duke of Wellington,” his mother explained.
Clearly, this little nugget changed Little Jonas’s assessment of Stratton from mere fine fellow to god-like. He ogled Stratton, his mouth dropping open in awe.
“Would you like to learn to fence?” Stratton asked.
“Uh-huh,” the boy managed.
“Please say, ‘Yes, sir,’” Mary Alice reminded him, and then glanced an apology at Stratton. “I’m sorry.”
Stratton shook his head. “Think nothing of it.”
He had been rather ashamed of his Machiavellian ambitions to win over Mary Alice’s children, but to his relief, he found that he truly liked Little Jonas. He was a rough-and-tumble young fellow with a big heart. And Little Jonas clearly enjoyed the relief from the female companionship of his sisters and mother, who didn’t appreciate the finer things, such as bloody ogre swords.
Mary Alice had drifted over to the dollhouse where Caroline and Eleanor were engrossed in play. He could hear Eleanor’s excited voice say, “Let’s pretend that King Foradora is having a ball, and a witch puts a spell on the bog lord, turning him into a lady so he can secretly attend.”
“You are so very clever,” Caroline exclaimed.
Mary Alice flashed Stratton a smile that said she was pleased the girls played so well together.
Stratton felt a bump on his leg and glanced down. Anna held up her picture. “I drew this,” she said. “It’s a bridge. And I made that tower.” She pointed to a shelf where a complex tower structure stood.
He knelt and examined her drawing, which was rendered with a draftsman’s precision. “You are extremely talented. Do you know that?”
Her expression didn’t register the compliment. Anna only stared, not at his face, but at his cravat.
He studied the drawing a moment longer, looking at the symmetry and shapes. Then it struck him that this quaint little girl perceived the world in lines and geometry. “Why did you use arches?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.
“Watch.” She pointed to the timepiece hanging on his waistcoat.
“Yes.” He unfastened it from its chain and handed it to her.
She flipped the top and studied it. “Arches are stronger.”
“That’s right. Who taught you that?”
She furrowed her brow, her eyes focused on his watch. “Nurse only teaches me reading and writing.” She abruptly turned and walked away, taking the watch with her.
“Anna, love,” Mary Alice said, “that’s Colonel Stratton’s watch. You should give it back to him.”
“Let her keep it,” he said. “It’s stuffed with gears and other wondrous things.” He had a feeling his watch would be returned to him disassembled. This wouldn’t bother him at all. In fact, he wished one day he could show Anna the mechanics of his garden hydraulics. He wagered the girl would find them fascinating.
He returned his attention to Little Jonas. “To fence, you must first put your feet like so…”
Stratton had envisioned a short first visit to Mary Alice’s home, a little awkward, with stiff, polite conversation. Instead, he lost track of time as he taught his overly enthusiastic fencing student, who was intent on killing imaginary ogres whose blood spurt everywhere.
Anna did, indeed, disassemble his watch and then began drawing. She approached with her new picture, walking in front of Little Jonas as he violently swung his sword. She clearly perceived no danger. She had drawn a series of circles: the circle of his watch gears, the circle of the window on the top of their house, the spire of St. Paul’s Cathedral. What fascinated him most—and there were many amazing things about this child—was her precise memory. She seemed to remember everything in minute detail. He wished he could spend a day with this child, learning more about her brilliant, unique mind.
The butler and nurse entered carrying two teapots on a silver service platter—a large china pot and a doll-sized one. “How does Miss Helandria prefer her tea?” the butler inquired.
“Cakes!” Little Jonas dropped his sword and hurried to the table, where the butler set down the tray.
As the children gathered excitedly about the confections and tea, Stratton crossed to Mary Alice. Silently, he took her hand. She glanced to where their fingers entwined and then at his face. The sadness in her eyes told him everything—she would reject him.
* * *
Mary Alice led Stratton to her parlor, a cozy room decorated in shades of cream and sienna. Comfortable sofas and chairs, perfect for reading or sewing, were arranged by a warm hearth. The servants hadn’t straightened the room from when Mary Alice had fussed about in it earlier that morning. The blanket still hung, unfolded, on the armrest, and Jonas’s miniature rested atop a pin box on the side table.
She rubbed her arms, feeling self-conscious. “This is my parlor.”
Stratton stepped closer and gently cupped her cheek in his large palm. As at Rose Heath, her body surged at his touch. Time and distance had done nothing to dampen her attraction.
“I’ve missed you,” he said. He kissed her mouth, a slow, gentle kiss. She closed her eyes and released a whimper of frustration and yearning.
He trailed kisses to her ear, where he whispered, “And I know that you’ve decided against this marriage.”
She had to turn, putting her back to him. She didn’t have the strength just yet to look at him and speak the horrible words. “I dreaded telling you.”
She heard him release a low breath of disappointment. “I understand.”
“But I didn’t expect the children to warm so readily to you today. I see how Little Jonas worships you. He requires a good gentleman to teach him how to be the man he needs to be. And I can see how Caroline adores Eleanor. I… I thought I was so sure that our marriage wouldn’t work. And in a way, I found it a relief. But then I saw you again and… I love you. I love you even more now than I did at Rose Heath.”
He placed his hands on her arms and slowly spun her around. “What do you want, Mary Alice?”
Jonas’s miniature rested on the pin box, watching them with his painted eyes.
She studied Stratton’s face, which was filled with concern and love. How could he be so unselfish, so patient as she toyed with his heart because of her own fears? “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I know I’m hurting you. And that’s the last thing that I desire to do. I’m just very confused and scared.”
He kissed her cheek. Her breasts brushed against his chest, sending a hot tingle to her sex. Again, he asked, “What do you want?”
Him.
She wanted him. She wanted to love him and be loved. She was tired of the internal war of guilt and shame that consumed her. In a fast, almost violent motion, she placed her hand behind his head, drawing him to her lips. She unabashedly pressed against his body. Her aggressive overture didn’t dismay him or turn him away.
What she was doing was rash, but she was tired of being caged by responsibility, sorrow, and her own rigid ideals. When she’d told Jonas she would never love another, she hadn’t re
ally known what that meant. When he had been slowly dying before her, she hadn’t conceived that her broken heart would heal enough to open again. Yet, she had fallen in love again and with the same recklessness and determination of her youth. She loved Stratton and would instinctively come to him, despite any obstacle.
Stratton hungrily kissed her as he lowered her onto the sofa’s cushions. He caressed her breast through her layers of clothes. His lips were still on hers as his hands drifted from her breasts and pulled up her skirts, finding her sex, wet and wanting. His fingers danced upon her as his mouth drank in her muffled moans of pleasure. In a graceful motion, he slid atop her. She released a sigh, and her body rose to welcome him inside.
“I love you,” he whispered, studying her face.
“And I love you.”
They paused, taking in the magnitude of the moment. She was an honorable woman who wouldn’t take a lover but a husband. He was an honorable man now who wouldn’t make love to a woman he didn’t intend to marry. They knew that more than their bodies were meeting, they were giving their essences to one another—all their love, hopes, fears, and hurt. The complicated wonder of love. From this moment, their lives would be as entwined as their bodies.
She combed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead and then let her fingers trail down his cheekbone and the edge of his jaw. He was hers now. They belonged to each other, and there was no going back.
His mouth descended onto hers again as he began to move. She arched her back, driving him deeper. She noticed what gave him pleasure and increased it, as he did for her. Their love turned frenzied, until she cried out, her thighs trembling, grinding against him, milking him for pleasure. He threw his head back and groaned through gnashed teeth as his liquid heat spilled into her.
Then he lowered himself upon her and held her close, his head resting on her breast. For a minute, they were lulled by the sweet afterglow of love. But he felt her anxiety when it returned.
“Don’t worry, my love,” he whispered.
“I’ll have to tell the children soon. They may get upset again.”
“Should we speak to them together?”
She shook her head. “Maybe you should visit one more time so they can become more familiar with you. And then I’ll tell them. Oh, Nathaniel …”
He raised his head. “What is it, my love?”
“We will be happy together, won’t we?”
He kissed her. “I will do everything in my power to be a proper husband.”
“And I will be a good… good wife.” She bit back her tears. She certainly didn’t feel like a good wife as Jonas looked on with his painted eyes.
* * *
After her lady’s maid left that night, Mary Alice changed out of her shift and donned Jonas’s favorite of her nightdresses. It had lain folded at the bottom of her commode for more than two years.
She opened the door to Jonas’s adjoining chamber and crossed to his bed, but no lover waited for her there anymore. She sat on the edge of the mattress and held his miniature. She couldn’t see his painted face in the darkness, but she caressed the glass frame. “I’m going to marry him,” she whispered aloud. A tear slid down her cheek. “I love him. I didn’t want to fall in love, but I did. Oh, Jonas, don’t think poorly of me. He will make a wonderful father to our children. And our little boy… He needs a man to guide him. Please understand. Please.”
She waited, hoping for a sign, as she had for many days and nights, something to let her know that Jonas was still near her somehow.
All she received was silence.
“Can you hear me where you are? Can you see me?”
Was he truly gone? Had all her beseeching and prayers to him reached no heaven? She couldn’t accept that every part of him had ended when he died. It hurt too much. She wanted to believe that his beautiful soul continued on in an afterlife.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I must keep on living and loving. I hope that, wherever you are, you can forgive me.”
* * *
Eleanor passed the evening at the hotel praising everything about Caroline. She was infatuated with her future stepsister. She wanted to dress like Caroline, talk like her, and play the same games.
“Caroline is a wonderful girl, but so are you, Eleanor,” Stratton reminded her when he came to her bedside to say good night. “I adore you as you are. And so does Helandria.” He gave her favorite doll a little pat.
Her face clouded at the idea that she didn’t need to be someone else to be loved. He wished his little girl could miraculously acquire confidence overnight, but he knew that wasn’t realistic. So, every day he would work to assure Eleanor of her specialness.
He knelt and kissed her cheek, savoring the smell of her skin. “Good night, my dearest,” he whispered. “Your papa loves you.”
He rose and removed the candle burning at the bedside table. He had almost reached the door when he heard her softly say, “Papa.”
He turned to her. “Yes?”
“I… I love you.”
He was too emotional to speak. He returned to the bed to hug this tiny, brave girl who had given his life so much meaning.
“I love you,” she said again. “And Mrs. Mary Alice. And I’m going to love Caroline, Anna, and Little Jonas too.”
He closed his eyes and thanked whatever forgiving god had blessed such an undeserving man with a precious child and the love of a magnificent woman. He vowed that he would live the rest of his life trying to be worthy of their love.
Chapter Eight
* * *
The next morning, Stratton strolled out of the hotel, holding both Helandria and Eleanor, as his daughter finished a cream-filled scone. Her falling crumbs attracted a metallic blue and green pigeon that began to follow them. The persistent bird delighted Eleanor. Her giggles made Stratton smile. He gazed at the bustling scene on the street. His younger self wouldn’t have had the time to notice the people and places around him, too sunk in his own world and petty ambitions. Now he felt truly awake. As he strolled to Mary Alice’s home to formally ask her to marry him, he experienced a profound sense of well-being he'd never felt before
However, the feeling proved to be short-lived. As he turned into Grosvenor Square, he sensed something was very wrong. The door to Mary Alice’s house was flung open and household servants were scurrying in and out.
Mary Alice’s distraught voice rang in the air, “Anna! Anna! Where are you? Answer me! Please!”
Oh damn, he muttered to himself. He set Eleanor down and clasped her hand. They dashed across to the square.
Mary Alice stood by the iron railing, gripping Little Jonas’s and Caroline’s hands. She wore a pastel violet morning dress but no cap, coat, or gloves. “I know that you’ve just searched the attics, but please search them again!” she cried to a servant.
Stratton touched Mary Alice’s taut back, and she jumped. She released her children’s hands and whipped around. Her eyes were dilated with panic.
“Nathaniel! I can’t find Anna! I can’t find her! She’s been missing all morning. We’ve…” She pressed her trembling fingers to her mouth. “We’ve searched the house and streets. But… but … what if something happened to her?”
Stratton drew her into his arms. He could feel the tension crackling through her body. “What happened?”
“She just left,” Mary Alice cried into his shoulder. “A servant saw her in the hall, and then later the door was open and Anna was gone. But we keep the door locked!”
He didn’t think for a minute a lock could stop Anna.
He stepped back and looked Mary Alice straight in the eyes. “Listen, we are going to find her,” he said in a deep, resolute way.
She shook her head. “She won’t come to anyone but me. Oh, Nathaniel, what if someone hurts her? She doesn’t understand people or perceive danger.”
“Don’t give in to those dark thoughts. We will find her,” Stratton growled. He surveyed the square, taking in the chaotic situation. Female ser
vants dashed between houses, calling for Anna. Footmen raced from the square in the direction of Hyde Park.
“We should search in pairs,” he boomed in his military voice. “That way, when she is found, you can send the other to fetch Her Grace.”
He knelt before the children. “I need you to stay with the duchess. You must tell her reassuring things and not to worry. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” Caroline said, taking her mother’s hand again. But Eleanor remained silent, her features rigid with fear.
“I’m not staying here!” Little Jonas announced. “I’m going to find Anna.”
“Little Jonas, please,” Mary Alice begged. “Don’t be difficult. Not now.”
“I can find her!” Little Jonas insisted. Stratton realized that Little Jonas would only further upset his mother if he stayed. He saw himself as a brave knight, galloping out to face the danger.
“Then you’re coming with me.” Stratton gestured to the boy.
“Nathaniel, no!” Mary Alice protested.
“Let him go,” Stratton said. “I’ll keep a close watch on him.”
“Please, Mama!” Little Jonas pleaded.
She studied her little boy. Stratton could see on her face the internal struggle to keep her son close and safe, or allow him to venture into manhood. She raised her eyes to Stratton’s. “Very well,” she quietly conceded.
The boy followed Stratton as he strode to the center of the square.
“What do we do?” Little Jonas asked.
“We think like Anna,” Stratton replied. He pivoted on his heel, taking in the square, seeing it as Anna might—all shapes. He noticed the straight line the iron railings made down the left walk. It didn’t break at the other corner but continued to the next row of houses.
“Come,” Stratton murmured. He followed the line into the blocks of Mayfair homes, always keeping the paling to his left. About a half mile passed in this tidy fashion until they reached a busy intersection. Here, Anna would have gotten flustered.
Duchesses in Disguise Page 30
