The Perfect Mistress (49 page)

Pierce stopped dead when his mother turned and spotted him, at the head of that line of little girls, holding Gabrielle's hand. "What are
you
doing here?" he sputtered.

"Helping," she responded calmly, then inserted herself between the pair at the head of the line. "Come girls." Taking their hands, she led them off.

"Helping what?" he murmured as he watched her go.

"Helping the children learn and grow," Gabrielle answered as they proceeded inside. "She comes here one day a week, when she's in London.

She used to come more than that, but… she gets tired now. She reads stories

—of course she calls it 'improving literature'—to the children. And she teaches the older girls sewing and helps them learn their reading and writing and ciphering." She smiled mischievously. "Around here, they still talk about the way she used to play football with the boys."

His face went blank. "She comes here to help?
She
played football?"

Gabrielle squared her shoulders, deciding he should hear it. "You didn't know, did you? She loves children. Your father wouldn't give her more than one child… abandoned her bed altogether, after you were born. So, for years, she has supported children's charities and donated sizable sums as well as many hours to help the children here." She led him back down the hall as they talked. "When she said she was 'off to see the children' the other day, I asked what she meant. And I asked if I could come with her. When I saw the children, I thought it would be good for both them and your ailing reputation if we made the hospital a sizable donation."

She paused and faced him. "I think you should know that I intend to come here regularly, with her." Taking a deep breath, she glanced at him and smiled. "I've another group that's waiting for stories. And I may need some help." Some help? he thought, when he saw what awaited them. She needed a bloody regiment! The court was crawling with a dozen boys of nine or ten years, jumping, bouncing, balancing, and walking across the benches while trying to shove each other off—all while a harried matron barked orders and tried to corral them one by one. At the sight of Gabrielle, their eyes lighted and they became a bit more subdued. When she called for their attention and introduced Pierce as Lord Sandbourne, they frowned and glowered at him and mumbled their names, one by one. And while the matron got them seated and settled, Gabrielle turned aside to Pierce.

"Actually, I had an ulterior motive in asking you here—"

"Ready, yer ladyship," the matron called, folding her hands and looking impatient to get on with it.

Giving him a smile of apology, Gabrielle nodded and took her place on the bench among the boys. She soon had them absorbed in the "Song of Roland," the epic story of a Frankish boy who grew into a hero through brave and cunning deeds. Tales of sword fights and outwitting ogres and sailing a boat single-handedly kept them wide-eyed and attentive for half an hour.

For a moment after she closed the book, there was reverent silence. Pierce could see daydreams and admiration in their young eyes. And he could see generosity and compassion in hers. And he couldn't help wondering what it would have been like to have a lovely and understanding tutor like her when he was a boy. Or a mother like her. She wanted children… she deserved to have children of her own. He could almost see her with a baby in her arms and a loving glow in her eyes.

Against his will, he recalled what she had said about his mother. Could it be true? Beatrice had wanted more children and had come here to help because she couldn't have more of her own?

"I don't know. Perhaps if we ask him…" Gabrielle was saying when he came back to the present. The boys squirmed and fidgeted and eyed him speculatively. He realized Gabrielle was talking about him. "His mother told me he swung a wicked bat, as a boy. And he was always quick on his feet at football. Perhaps he wouldn't mind…" She stood and most of the boys scrambled up with her. "Please, Lord Sandbourne. They would be ever so grateful if you could show them how to pitch a cricket ball and swing a bat, or how to move a football with their feet."

"Oh, please."

"Please, sir!" and "
Pleeease do
." A veritable avalanche of pleading inundated him.

She smiled.

He didn't stand a chance. He was soon stripped of his gentlemanly coat and given garters for his sleeves and a whistle to hang around his neck. The cricket bats were splintery and decrepit and the leather footballs were old and cracked. But he soon had the boys out on the grounds, in the sunshine

—running and kicking and passing the balls back and forth with their feet.

Gabrielle stood at the corner of the building, watching, her eyes brimming with pleasure as she watched him running himself ragged and yelling himself hoarse.

After a time, Beatrice joined her. When she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. "I never thought I would see a sight like this."

"He's a good man," Gabrielle said, turning in time to catch her mother-in-law wiping away a tear. "He has a very good heart."

Beatrice watched her jaded and worldly son helping children learn to play, and a wistful, faintly bittersweet smile tugged at her mouth.

"He does, doesn't he?"

It was past five when Pierce led his tired but still excited crew back inside.

He was sweaty and disheveled and feeling oddly invigorated by the exercise and the boyish high spirits of his charges. It had been a long time since he kicked a ball about a field, and he had thoroughly enjoyed watching the boys throw themselves into the game with unbridled enthusiasm, holding nothing back, playing with their whole hearts.

"Please, sir." One of the boys turned to him as a long-suffering matron herded them into their line to take them away to do chores before supper.

"Will you come again? Tomorrow?" The others stared at him with raw hope in their eyes.

Pierce halted in the middle of removing his whistle and rolling down his sleeves.

"I shall have to see. I am a very busy man. Parliament is in session and—

"

"See there." One little skeptic gave him a savagely resentful look. "I told ye… He's jus' a looker." Then he stalked to the front of the line, where he promptly started a shoving match with the boy at the head of the row.

Pierce stiffened, watching the boy, seeing all too clearly the disappointment that fueled his misbehavior. "A 'looker'? What is that?" he demanded of the boys putting the balls in the battered wooden box just inside the door. None of them wanted to say, but one finally looked up at him with guarded eyes.

"Them what comes to
look
at us," he answered. "They stay a time an'

sometimes give us somethin'. But then they go home and don't never come back."

"They jus' come to
look
," his friend put in, then they hurried to take places at the end of the line. As they started off to their chores, their soup supper, and their iron cots, they cast him looks of longing and resignation over their shoulders.

He watched them go, feeling somehow exposed and uncomfortable. They resented people like him, who came to help, got their hopes up, and then, having gotten a dose of conscience-balm, never bothered to return.

Gabrielle's words about the children in France came back to him. He remembered her hurt, her resentment, and her work to help abandoned children. And he felt a keen impulse to come back again, to spend time with those boys, and to prove to them and to himself that he wasn't a just a

"looker."

As he strode down the front hallway, he saw Gabrielle standing in the front reception area, holding his coat. She had donned a jacket that matched her skirt and a stylish tailored hat. He was so focused on her and on the sweet turmoil the sight of her stirred in him that it took a moment to register that she was standing with the administrator, the head matron, and two others, a man and a woman. And the man was Lord Rosebery.

His step faltered. What the devil was he doing here?

"Rosebery." He nodded to the nobleman, then, after a moment's consternation, remembered the reception. "Pardon my informality." He extended his apology to the older woman with a glance and reached for his coat, donning it.

"Ahhh," Rosebery said with a hint of amusement. "I would bet a few guineas that they've had you chasing a ball around a field until you're ready to expire."

"As a matter of fact, they have."

"Beware, Sandbourne." The aging lord leaned toward him with a tone of mock confidentiality. "I had 'coaching' duties here for a time, myself. These women will run you ragged, if you give them a chance."

Pierce shot an accusing glance at Gabrielle and stiffly returned Rosebery's smile. "I believe I have just had that lesson from my wife, sir." Then he turned to the unknown lady beside him. "I do not believe we have met, madam."

"Not formally." The gray-haired woman extended her hand while Rosebery apologized for not introducing them. "No doubt they thought we were already acquainted… since I attended your wedding."

Pierce's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Pierce, this is Mrs. Gladstone," Gabrielle said, watching his reaction warily.

"So happy to make your full acquaintance at last," Catherine Gladstone said, clasping his hand. "You know, William used to come here with me. He was always snared into coaching the boys too. There are so few men to direct the boys' activities." She smiled fondly. "He'll be delighted to see you're carrying on the tradition. He feels very strongly about these boys having exemplary men to model themselves upon."

Exemplary men
. Mrs. Gladstone was clearly unaware of her husband's dire opinion of him.

"Well, it is quite past five o'clock," the administrator said, consulting his watch. "The board has gathered in the parlor for the reception." He waved a hand to direct Pierce and the rest of the group toward a large set of double doors at the end of the main hall. "We must apologize for so small a turnout, your Lordship, but on such short notice… Our governing board meets only quarterly, and they were eager to extend their appreciation to you and Lady Sandbourne, firsthand, before another three months pass."

The large oak-paneled room already contained a number of handsomely dressed matrons and dignified gentlemen. One by one, they were introduced to Pierce and Gabrielle and extended their gratitude for the compassion and civic spirit behind his gift. With each bit of unearned praise, Pierce felt a bit more manipulated and a bit more annoyed. But he managed to maintain his composure until he looked up and discovered an appallingly familiar face bearing down on him across the parlor.

"Lord Sandbourne." William Gladstone drew up before him with a cool smile. "I must apologize for being late. The endless business of government, you know."

As Pierce straightened, Mrs. Gladstone came to her husband's side.

"William has had to give up his 'coaching' duties, but he remains active on the board here." She turned to her husband with a genteel smile. "His lordship spent the better part of the afternoon directing football matches, William."

"Indeed?" The glint in Gladstone's dark eyes hinted at a private amusement that rankled Pierce. "Well, it would seem wedded life agrees with you, Lord Sandbourne." He glanced at Gabrielle, standing nearby.

"Marriage does have a way of altering one's priorities and changing one's perspective on things."

"First endowments, then charity work," Rosebery put in, with a teasing grin. "Next thing you know, he'll be coming over to our side of the house!"

The comment drew discreet laughter from the other board members.

Red crept up out of Pierce's collar as he made a grimace of a smile, counterfeiting good humor, then buried his nose in his cup of tea.

Marriage has a way of altering… changing one
… Those words, so lightly spoken, went straight to the core of him. As soon as the administrator finished his brief speech of appreciation on behalf of the board of governors, Pierce began to work his way to the door. Declaring that they had a pressing engagement that evening, he captured Gabrielle by the elbow, glanced at Gladstone, and ushered her out.

They managed to make it into the cab and out onto the street before Pierce erupted with a round "Dammit!" He turned on Gabrielle. "Gladstone and Rosebery—of all people! By tomorrow, word of my
reform
will be all over London!"

"I certainly hope so," Gabrielle said determinedly.

He stiffened. "You meant this to happen, didn't you? You planned the entire thing!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Pierce. I had no idea Mr. Gladstone and Lord Rosebery were on the board of governors. I certainly didn't expect, when I decided to make the donation in your name, that they would insist upon something like a reception. But, honestly, being seen doing a bit of charity work with abandoned children cannot possibly do you harm. If they do noise it about, it could only be to your credit."

"To my credit?" He stared at her with mounting outrage. "Running around like a madman… chasing a ball with a pack of snot-nosed orphans?"

"What better way to repair your reputation? This was a perfect opportunity for you to be seen as the charitable and generous man you are."