A Prince for Aunt Hetty (9 page)

“Oh my,” Hetty laughed. “I think we are all silly creatures when it comes to our stomachs.”

“I completely agree.”

At that moment, Margaret came tearing out of the maze, running full tilt for where Rupert and Hetty were standing. Agnes was just one step behind her. Both were giggling so much they couldn't run straight. The other children weren't far behind.

“I win! The cake is mine!” Margaret yelled as she reached Rupert's side. She danced breathlessly as her brothers and sisters all caught up with her. Hetty could see the disappointment on their faces. She sensed a mutiny about to happen.

Before she could say anything, Rupert spoke. “Well done, Margaret! But now I think we need another contest. Maybe partners this time?” The mutinous mood lightened immediately.

For a few minutes, they were all intent on the task of dividing into pairs. Rupert hoisted the littlest, Stephen, on his shoulders and bounced him around. The child squealed in delight at the sensation of being taller than everyone else. Hetty and Vincent were together while the girls put themselves in pairs. Then they all started for the entrance of the maze, on an even footing this time.

“Ready?” Rupert asked. The children braced themselves to start. “Go!”

Vincent pulled at her hand with more strength than she thought a boy of seven years could have. She followed quickly after him. In a few steps, they were running as Vincent shouted. “Come on, Aunt Hetty! It's this way!” Though he was sure of his steps, the young boy led them into a few dead-ends before they finally found their way out. But he never grew frustrated, Hetty was pleased to see. He simply thought for a moment and dragged her along behind him as he decided where to go next.

By the time they spilled out at the end, everyone else was out. As the children argued about who had made it first, Hetty put her hand to her heart, trying to catch her breath.

“Are you all right, Miss Masters?” Rupert asked.

“I am fine, thank you.” She was still panting. “It has been many years since I've even considered moving that fast.”

He chuckled. “Well, you and Vincent made an admirable turnout.”

“Thank you. I cannot say that I will be doing it again soon.”

“Would you like to sit down?” There was concern in his voice. “I've had one of the parlors prepared for us.”

Hetty was surprised at his thoughtfulness, although she supposed she shouldn't be. After all, he had invited them all to his house, of course he would have thought of their comfort. “That would be nice.”

“Just a moment, then.” Rupert gave the children instructions and they headed off again into the maze. Then he turned back to Hetty and offered his arm. Instead of leading her toward the main doorway, he led her toward a set of windows a few steps away. He grabbed the handle and pulled one of the set open. It led directly into a comfortable parlor with two overstuffed sofas and a number of big chairs. There was a large fire roaring in the fireplace and a table in the middle of the room with all manner of edible delights.

Rupert must have seen her eying the table. “Since we promised the children cake, we should probably wait until they are here to dig into it. But may I pour you some tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Hetty began to take off her gloves.

“I will leave the door open there so the children will know where we are,” he gestured to the full-length glass window through which they had just entered.

“Wonderful,” Hetty replied. She put her gloves into her coat pockets and slipped the coat off her shoulders. The room was warm enough to do that even with the door standing open. Her recent exertion also made her feel overly heated. She draped the coat over a chair and took a step toward the open door. She smiled to hear the children yelling and laughing.

“Sugar?” Rupert asked from across the room.

“None, thank you. Just some milk.” Hetty turned her attention back into the room and toward the man who was bent over the table. A tall man bent over a small teacup was certainly an incongruous sight. She watched as he took care to pour the milk into the teacup and then to pour the tea slowly without slopping it around. His delicate movements and care made the sight that much more dissonant. He looked up and caught her gaze on him.

“Are you afraid I will do something incorrectly, Miss Masters? Or perhaps poison your drink?” He smiled and replaced the teapot on the tray.

“I thought we had agreed on first names, Mr. Henderson,” she replied.

He nodded in acknowledgment, the right corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile. “So we did. Are you afraid I will do something incorrectly,
Hetty
?”

Hetty's expression of amusement matched his. “I
was
somewhat concerned, sir.”

He picked up the teacup and brought it to her. “Your gaze is enough to make anyone nervous, which means I am more prone to doing something incorrectly.” He was clearly teasing her.

“I didn't mean to make you nervous,” Hetty blushed. Now it was his gaze that brought on the nerves.

“Oh, you didn't. I am only teasing. But you were looking very intent on
something
. Might I inquire as to what it was?”

He offered her the teacup. As she took it from him, their hands brushed. In her lifetime she could not count the number of times the same thing had happened with any number of men and women. But none had felt as intimate as this slight brush did. She hoped the color had not rushed directly to her cheeks. Just in case, she kept her head down as she took a sip of the tea.

“I was trying to think of the last time a man made tea for me, if you must know.” Hetty took pains to make her voice as easy and lighthearted as possible.

“And what did you conclude?” He asked. He'd stepped back to the table and was pouring a cup for himself.

“That I cannot recall if such a thing has
ever
happened.” Hetty took another sip. The tea was perfect. It filled her with an entirely different kind of warmth than the fire provided.

“That is a shame,” Rupert replied.

“Why?”

“A man should be able to make a decent cup of tea for himself. And how is he ever to learn if he does not practice?” He joined her near the window, sipping at his own cup of decent tea.

Hetty meant to laugh at his comment, but she saw that he was quite serious about it. “I suppose I never thought too much about men and their tea. I always assumed they did not drink it except to be polite to women.”

Now he chuckled. “One cannot
always
drink strong liquor.”

“If they did, it would serve to explain some of the more questionable behavior I have seen in my lifetime.” Hetty took a sip of her tea while Rupert continued to chuckle. “And how did you learn to make a decent cup of tea, sir?”

“Hmm...” he mused. “That is a short and very uninteresting story.”

“And?” Hetty raised her eyebrow, prompting him to continue. She was curious about this man.

“You really want to hear it?” He questioned.

“I do. I know very little about you, Rupert, and I think I would like to know more.”

“Well, then...” he began. “When I was no more than ten years old, I was a... well, I guess you could say companion... to a wealthy and well-known man. He was nearly always busy, so he set me to the tasks he didn't want to do. He was also very exacting, so I learned quickly after the first time he yelled at me about the awful cup of tea I had made.”

“Yelled at you? Over tea? That seems a bit much for a child.”

Rupert nodded. “I went straight to the nearest woman I could find – who happened to be the cook – and begged her to show me how to do it. God bless her kind soul. She took pity on me and patiently showed me all the steps. And also informed me just the way the master liked his tea.”

“And who was this master?” Hetty asked, curious as to where and with whom Rupert Henderson had grown up.

Rupert directed his gaze into the cup of tea in front of him, clearly uncomfortable. Two of the children saved him from answering, however, as they came bursting into the room.

“Auntie! Auntie!” Stephen shouted and tugged at her dress.

“It's snowing!” Agnes followed her brother into the room.

Stephen wailed. “I was going to say that!”

Hetty sensed tiredness and hunger in the young boy. In order to stave off the impending fight between brother and sister, she leaned down to Stephen's level and pretended she had not heard the news. “What did you want to tell me, my dear?”

Stephen sniffled, only slightly mollified by the attention. “It's snowing out there.” He swiped a sleeve over his running nose. Hetty was glad to see the tears had stopped.

“Snowing? I don't believe it!” Her feigned shock drew a watery smile from him.

“It is! It is! Look!” He took her hand in his. Two steps brought them to the open door where Hetty could see small flurries of soft powder picking up. The other children were chasing after the flakes, sticking out their tongues to try and catch them. The snow wasn't thick enough yet for them to succeed, but they were taking great delight in trying. Stephen and Agnes ran back to join them, giggling and shouting as they went.

Hetty stood near the open door, feeling the warmth of the room behind her and the chill of the winter air before her. As she took a deep breath of the fresh coldness, Rupert stepped up beside her. For a moment, the sights and sounds of the children melted away and Hetty was left with her awareness of the man beside her. Even without looking, she had a sense of the bulk of him, as he stood next to her in silence.

Hetty tensed for a moment, wondering what she should say. They had been in the middle of a conversation when the children had interrupted. Should she pursue that? Should she say something about the children? Should she begin to talk about the weather? Topics of conversation flew in and out of her mind faster than the whirling flurry of the tiny flakes outside. None seemed to fit. And so the only thing she could do was remain silent.

Rupert did the same. If he was thinking the same whirling thoughts, his outward demeanor gave no hint of it. He only stood there with his hands comfortably behind his back. Hetty took a surreptitious glance at him, but he did not seem to notice her at all. She looked out the door to the same place where his gaze rested: the children. She watched them, too, trying to see what he saw when he looked at them.

But she knew so little of the man. He did not even want to tell her about how he had learned to make a cup of tea. And unlike most of the men she had ever met, he seemed very reluctant to share anything about himself. Hetty was used to society gentlemen sharing their most insignificant thoughts, counting on her to care about them. And she did make an effort, especially if she thought the man might be a suitor for one of her nieces. Most of those men she found utterly tedious. But Rupert Henderson intrigued her... she wanted to know what he was thinking and where he had come from.

Her thoughts and questions calmed as she watched the simple joy of the children. Perhaps that was what he saw. Perhaps he saw the same thing that she did. No matter how little they knew of each other, perhaps they both saw the simple joy that a group of brothers and sisters was taking in the first snowfall of the new year. Perhaps they both saw the silliness of the dance they were doing as they tried to gather the tiny snowflakes on their tongues or the rejoicing when they caught one. Perhaps they both saw the way the older children helped the younger ones and the way all fighting was forgotten for a time while they concentrated on their simple task. Perhaps...

Hetty realized that the pressure she had felt to speak was gone, replaced by a sense of peace within the silence. They were simply two people looking out over a scene of pure joy. As she had done before, Hetty drew in a deep breath of the cold air and let it out again. The awareness of Rupert by her side did not make her anxious now. He was there and she was there. Together.

The peace was soon disturbed by young Harriet, who came running up to the door in breathless glee and begged the two adults to come play with them. Before Hetty could turn around, Rupert was at her side with her coat in his hands. She slipped her arms into it and buttoned up the front as she stepped outside. Rupert followed, still not speaking.

For nearly an hour they all played, romping around the garden on quests set out by Rupert or running the hedge maze again. All the time, the snow continued to fall, coming down more and more as they played.

Growing colder by the moment, Hetty called out, “Children, I think it's time we had something to eat and drink. Let's all go inside now.”

“Yes, I do think it might be just about time for cake!” Rupert spoke excitedly. He had uttered the magic word. All of the children zoomed past them and headed into the house. Rupert drew up alongside of her as they walked across the garden.

“I think you have won your way forever into their hearts,” Hetty said, looking up at their host. “They will never forget their afternoon at the castle.”

Rupert looked at her in a way that made her blood rush faster through her body. For a moment, she felt disoriented and her limbs stopped working. She stumbled over a slick spot in the gathering snow. Hetty's arms flailed outward in an attempt to steady herself. She found Rupert's hand and grabbed tightly. He spun quickly to grab her elbow and keep her upright.