The Duke's Marriage Mission (13 page)

Kit drew back from her embrace, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes bright with the kind of interest he usually showed during his lessons. “They might have shot him with their arrows and tied him down again. And some of the Lilliputians might have been hurt when he fought them.”

“I believe you are right.” Leah wondered if her pupil might respond to more formal instruction in proper conduct. “But by showing the king he could keep his temper and act responsibly, Gulliver was able to gain his trust and secure greater freedom.”

“So will I.” Kit’s mouth set in a resolute line that reminded Leah of his father. “Gulliver was clever and brave. I want to be like him.”

Just then the door opened and the duke entered. He seemed burdened with many heavy cares, the way he had looked when Leah first came to Renforth Abbey. At the time, she had been antagonistic, adding to his problems. Now her heart went out to him and she longed to ease his troubles, if she could.

He must have overheard the last of his son’s words for he asked, “Who is it you wish to emulate? Me?”

It was a rather awkward jest, yet Leah appreciated his attempt to defuse the tension that lingered between the three of them.

When Kit shrank from his father with an anxious look that she knew must grieve the duke, she came to his aid. “Your son would do well to model himself after you, sir. But in this case, he was referring to Mr. Gulliver. He hopes to exercise the kind of self-control the character did when faced with his many challenges.”

“A fine example to follow.” His Grace gave a thoughtful nod and perched on the edge of the bed gingerly, as if he feared Kit might explode in another tantrum if he approached too close.

“Papa,” said the child, his thin, frightened tone a marked contrast to his recent confidence, “where is Dr. Bannister? Is he going to come and give me that poi—medicine?”

That anxious question was foremost in Leah’s mind, as well. What would she do if the duke decided to ignore her pleas? Threaten to leave Renforth Abbey? For all she knew, Kit’s physician had succeeded in persuading His Grace to dismiss her.

To her overwhelming relief, the Duke shook his head. “Dr. Bannister has gone away and I do not expect him to return. I shall begin at once to look for a new physician to tend you—one who will never bring that sort of
medicine
into my house.”

“Thank you, Papa!” Kit pitched toward his father, who opened his arms to embrace the child. “Thank you, thank you!”

As the duke cradled his son with such obvious affection, Leah recalled her fleeting wish to seek solace in his strong arms. When he glanced up, she cast him a wide, warm smile that she hoped would communicate her gratitude, admiration and some of the other complicated emotions he inspired in her.

But not all of them. She did not want him to glimpse signs of other feelings that confused and alarmed her.

* * *

“Kit does not owe me his gratitude for sending Dr. Bannister away,” Hayden assured his son’s governess during the next opportunity he had to talk privately with her. “Nor do you, Miss Shaw.”

A few days after the upsetting confrontation, Kit had finally settled well enough that his father and governess were able to dine together after he went to sleep.

“The truth is, I owe my son an apology.” Hayden concentrated on his plate to avoid Leah Shaw’s frank, discerning gaze. “I should never have let Bannister dose him with laudanum.”

He could not forget the vivid smile Miss Shaw had offered him when it was all over. Her beaming countenance seemed to promise that in spite of his terrible mistake, all would be well again. It communicated admiration and trust—intangible but priceless gifts he had done far too little to deserve. He felt even more unworthy of her regard when he recalled the doctor’s cynical warning that she might be using Kit to insinuate herself with him. He could not help wondering if it might be true.

“You did not know the harm it could cause.” Kit’s governess seemed prepared to excuse his actions more readily than he could. “And you must have believed it was the best thing for Kit at the time. I may not always agree with your choices, but I no longer doubt you have your son’s best interests at heart. Dr. Bannister is the one who should have known better. He took advantage of your trust. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

“That is easier said than done.” Hayden could not resist looking up at her, admiring her lively beauty and basking in her sympathy. “If I have learned one thing since my son was born, it is that being a parent means questioning every choice I make and always being afraid that I have made the wrong one. Dr. Bannister always seemed so certain
his
way was right. His treatments appeared to rescue Kit from death’s door on more than one occasion.”

Something powerful compelled him to justify his faith in the physician. Hayden told Leah Shaw about the night of Kit’s birth and the time he’d suffered the seizure.

“I suppose it was easier to trust in his judgment than my own,” he concluded. “Following his advice absolved me of the final responsibility.”

“Perhaps,” she replied in a gentle tone. “But when you discovered the truth, you sent him away. I know that cannot have been easy for you, but I believe time will prove it was the right course. Now that you no longer feel obliged to follow all the doctor’s orders, may I hope you will loosen some of your restrictions on Kit? Perhaps even allow a little excitement in his life?”

The winsome twist of her lips and the golden sparkle in her hazel eyes were nearly irresistible, yet Hayden could not entirely purge the poisonous suspicions Dr. Bannister had planted in his mind. “Would you have me blindly follow your system as I did the doctor’s? I know you believe it is the right way to bring up my son, but he was every bit as certain. I do not wish to make the same mistake twice.”

He thought Kit’s governess might react angrily and spoil their pleasant dinner by arguing the point.

To his surprise, she greeted his pronouncement with a trill of laughter that carried only a faint rueful note. “I should have known it could not be that easy. Still I give you fair warning that I will continue to advocate for greater freedom for your son.”

Hayden could not prevent the corners of his mouth from inching upward. “I would expect no less of you, my dear Miss Shaw. Indeed, if you stopped I might suspect an imposter had taken your place at Renforth Abbey. For now, let us give the matter a rest. Once we are finished eating, allow me to conduct you on a tour of the great hall. It was once the Cistercian’s chapter house when this place was an abbey.”

She nodded eagerly. “I look forward to it, Your Grace. As fulfilling as I find my work with your son, I must confess the time during my off-duty hours sometimes hangs heavy on my hands.”

She was not voicing a complaint, Hayden sensed, but rather her appreciation for the diversion he offered. Still, the knowledge that she was not content at Renforth Abbey troubled him.

Chapter Eight

I
t might be slow going, but she
was
making progress at winning more freedom for Kit. Leah relished a growing sense of accomplishment as autumn turned the Somerset countryside golden.

In spite of the duke’s warning that he meant to continue his cautious course, he no longer seemed quite so intractable. Leah had discovered that if she proceeded slowly and gave him a little time to consider each new request, he would often agree to it. If His Grace seemed more than usually resistant, she would counter by asking for something she knew he would consider outrageous. After he blustered himself out, she would sweetly offer to settle for a less drastic concession—the very one he had balked at earlier.

This manner of negotiating had won Kit the opportunity to eat his luncheon and tea at the table with Leah. The duke had permitted several new items to be added to his son’s diet. When he saw how eagerly Kit consumed what he called “real food” and how the boy began to put flesh on his delicate frame, Lord Northam soon withdrew his objections to all but the richest dishes.

Leah’s latest campaign was to get Kit out of his nursery now and then.

One evening, when the duke conducted her on a tour of the east range gallery, hung with a treasure trove of fine paintings, she seized an opportunity to raise the subject. “Renforth Abbey is such a magnificent house. It seems a shame your son cannot see more of it. I described your library to him and he said how very much he would like to see it. I wish I could take him there for some of his lessons.”

“Perhaps in the spring,” replied the duke, who had lately begun to put her off with delay rather than outright refusal. “As fine a library as it is, you must admit it is not well heated. I would not want Kit to take a chill.”

He had her there, Leah was forced to concede. Perhaps to protect the books from the danger of fire, the library had only a small fireplace. But if Kit was not permitted downstairs until spring it would stall his progress and leave much more to be done before she departed Renforth Abbey.

“You may be right.” She tried to soften the duke’s objection by agreeing with him. “Perhaps it would be better to continue having lessons in the nursery and then take Kit for a carriage ride in the afternoon. The fresh air would do him good and I know how much he would enjoy a change of scene.”

She braced for a blast from the duke, confident that he would not be expressing hostility toward her, but concern for his son. Instead, to her surprise, he responded with a faintly mocking chuckle. “I know what you are trying to do, my dear Miss Shaw. I must warn you it will not work this time.”

Lord Northam’s use of the conventional pleasantry
my dear
flustered Leah to a ridiculous degree, as it did every time he addressed her that way. Averting her face to hide a foolish blush, she pretended to study a vast canvas by Canaletto. She told herself the duke meant nothing by it, even if he seemed to use those particular words more frequently of late. And if his voice seemed to warm and soften when he spoke them, it must be a vexing trick of her imagination.

“What will not work?” She feigned innocence. “What is it you suppose I am trying to do?”

He chuckled again, a sound that wrapped around her like a velvet cloak. “You know perfectly well what I mean and I should have recognized your strategy sooner. You expect me to be so aghast at the thought of Kit going for a carriage ride that I will immediately agree to the lesser evil of lessons in the library.”

Leah spun to face him, though she was not certain the blush had entirely faded from her cheeks. “I refuse to concede that either of the ideas I proposed is
evil
. Have any of my previous suggestions done Kit harm?”

The duke thought for a moment, his earlier triumphant grin turning increasingly rueful. “Not yet, though there is a first time for everything and I truly believe Kit will be better off remaining in his nursery through the winter.”

“But this is the south of England, not Greenland,” Leah pleaded, vexed that His Grace had chosen this occasion to see through a gambit that had served her so well. “Besides you know Kit grows frustrated with being kept in his nursery. He has tried to be patient, but I fear if he must wait until spring to see more of the world, he may give way to another tantrum.”

The duke’s face blanched but his aristocratic features tensed in a resolute expression. “I will not be blackmailed with that threat, Miss Shaw. I vow, you ought to take up negotiating trade treaties. You would make this country a fortune.”

“Not if you represented the other side,” she quipped, unable to resist the temptation to tease him. “Come now, there must be some reason that would induce you to bring Kit downstairs.”

“Perhaps...” He started to respond then stopped himself. “I mean...no. Not until spring. Somerset may not be Greenland but this house can still be damp and drafty in the winter.”

“You were going to say something else.” Leah sensed a point of weakness and sought to turn it to Kit’s advantage. “There
is
a possibility you would consider. Do tell me.”

“So you can break out your thumbscrews and persuade me of it against my better judgment? I think not.” The duke tried to feign severity but he could not extinguish the rogue twinkle in his eye.

He had come to
enjoy
this give and take between them, Leah sensed with a flicker of amusement. And so had she. That realization provoked a bewildering clash of emotions.

Rather than examine and confront her feelings, she did what she had done so often in the past—sought a safe diversion. In this case, there was one close at hand. “If you will not tell me then I must
guess
what you were about to say. Could it be the dining room? You would allow Kit to take some of his meals there with us?”

The duke shook his head. “Out of the question.”

Leah’s thoughts ranged room to room through the house in search of possibilities. “The great hall? The drawing room? The chapel?”

A furtive flicker in Lord Northam’s eyes told Leah her last guess had hit the mark.

“The chapel,” she repeated. “Of course! You want Kit to be able to worship and hear the Word of God that has brought you comfort and strength. I think it is an excellent idea. Quite inspired, actually.”

“Perhaps,” the duke replied. “But not at this time of year. The chapel is the coldest part of the house. The Cistercian brothers clearly believed in the virtue of self-denial. Besides I already read the Scriptures to my son and pray with him.”

“I know.” A brooding sensation stirred in Leah’s heart, as it did whenever she saw Lord Northam and his son with their dark heads bowed in prayer. “But there is something special about worshipping in a consecrated place with other believers. It is like taking a single candle and putting it into a chandelier. The crystals reflect and magnify its light.”

“That is why it will be the first place I take my son when conditions are favorable to bring him down from the nursery. ‘To everything there is a season,’ remember.”

Part of Leah wanted to continue insisting and cajoling until she secured the duke’s agreement, but she feared her insistence might spoil the camaraderie that had taken time to develop between them. She would try again in another day or two and hope to catch him in a more receptive mood. Until then, there was another subject she wished to discuss. “It is hard to argue when you quote Scripture, sir. Speaking of time and season, Christmas will be upon us in five more weeks.”

“So it will.” The duke gave the Canaletto canvas a final glance then strolled on to the next painting, which depicted
The Adoration of the Magi
. “I have ordered more Lilliputian figures for Kit’s present, as well as some of those connecting puzzles you told me about. Why do you mention it? I suppose you want me to take Kit on an expedition to collect boughs for decorating.”

It was clear he intended the question facetiously, but Leah responded as if she believed he was sincere. “What a good idea! I am certain an outing like that would make Kit happier than any Christmas gift money could buy.”

The duke looked so alarmed that Leah did not have the heart to rally him further. “But that was not what I intended to say at all. I only meant to tell you that I have received an invitation to spend Christmas with one of my friends. Grace...that is Lady Steadwell and her family who live in Berkshire. I wondered if you would permit me a fortnight’s leave to take a little holiday.”

Lord Northam continued to look troubled. Perhaps her change of subject had not fully sunk in.

“You wish to go away for Christmas?” he asked as if he had never heard of such a thing before.

“If you can spare me.” Leah glanced at the painting of the nativity scene. “Grace is expecting a happy event before long and I believe she could use my help with her other children.”

“Does the family not have a governess of their own?” The duke sounded strangely antagonistic.

“They do, but I understand she has requested time to visit with
her
family. If you cannot spare me, I will write to Grace at once so she can make other arrangements. I did not foresee any difficulty, since I assume you mean to spend the holidays very quietly.”

She had been delighted to receive Grace’s invitation, tactfully phrased as if Leah would be doing
her
a favor by accepting. In spite of the duke’s occasional company in the evenings, Leah had begun to mind the isolation of Renforth Abbey. The prospect of Yuletide merriment at Nethercross beckoned her to Berkshire.

“That is true,” Lord Northam admitted, his gaze fixed on the painting. “I hope you will pardon my selfishness, Miss Shaw. Of course you must have a holiday. Take as much time as you wish to visit your friend. Kit will miss you a great deal no doubt and look forward to your return in the new year.”

“I shall miss him, too.” Leah was dismayed to realize her words were more than a conventional response.

She had gotten along well with most of her former pupils, but never enough to make her regret moving on to her next post when the time came. Somehow, Kit had quickly won a special place in her heart. And she suspected he might not be the only member of the family she would miss during her absence.

That was all the more reason she needed to put some time and distance between her and Renforth Abbey.

* * *

“How much longer will it be until Miss Leah comes home, Papa?”

It was only New Year’s Day, but already Kit’s constant refrain had become as familiar to his father as the chorus of a Christmas carol.

“You are clever with numbers,” Hayden said, striving to curb his impatience with the child. He could scarcely blame Kit for missing his vivacious governess when
he
felt her absence, as well. “Surely you can count up the days until Miss Shaw’s return. She will not be setting off until after Twelfth Night and that is how many days away?”

Kit wrinkled his nose. “This is not a proper lesson. I cannot have any of those until Miss Leah comes home. I wish she would come tomorrow.”

The peevish pitch of his son’s voice grated on Hayden’s nerves like a musician scraping his bow over out-of-tune fiddle strings. “You may wish all you like, but it will do no good. Besides, Renforth Abbey is not her
home
. Miss Shaw is employed here, like Tilly and Roger and Mr. Gibson.”

Was he reminding his son of that fact, Hayden wondered, or himself?

“But none of
them
went away for Christmas.” Kit picked up the figure of a Lilliputian lady that resembled his governess. “Why did Miss Leah have to go?”

“She did not
have to
.” Hard as Hayden tried to keep his voice from sharpening, he did not succeed. “Miss Shaw wanted to spend the holidays with her friends.”

“Are we not her friends?” Kit persisted. “Does she not like us anymore?”

His son’s innocent question took Hayden aback. Did Leah Shaw not enjoy their company? She certainly seemed fond of Kit. As for him, Hayden was not so sure. He told himself it did not matter, yet deep down he knew it did. Perhaps if he’d made himself more agreeable, she might not have felt the need to go elsewhere for Christmas, leaving her young pupil bereft.

“I am certain your governess does not
dislike
you. But Renforth Abbey is not the most festive place to spend Christmas. I reckon Miss Shaw hankered for a bit more Yuletide cheer.”

What sort of entertainments might she be enjoying at Lord Steadwell’s estate? Hayden wondered. Music, games...possibly dancing? Would she be the family’s only guest or might there be others—a brother or cousin of the baron, perhaps? The thought troubled him somehow.

“What does
festive
mean?” Kit asked.

Hayden tried to explain, but the activities that might be considered festive were outside his son’s experience. That had never bothered him before. Such doings might have led to perilous excitement. Long ago, he had decided that what Kit did not know, he would not miss. Now he wondered if he had done right.

“Would you like to sit up at the table and put together one of your connecting puzzles?” he proposed by way of a diversion.