Family In The Making. Jo Ann Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ cutting the connection between them, which was growing too intimate. What might he have seen revealed on her face? That she was a liar because she had falsified a recommendation to get her position here? That she had been a fool to trust an unprincipled young lord? That she had believed—quite wrongly—that her friends would defend her against that young lord, even though she was not part of the ton? That she was lonely after her parents died, and she would be again when the children were no longer a part of her life?

      She would not share those secrets with anyone.

      Keeping her eyes focused on the floor, she said, “If you will excuse us, my lord, I need to get Bertie to the nursery and let the others know that he has been found.” She dipped in a curtsy and turned to lead the little boy out of the room.

      “Wait...” Lord Trelawney’s voice snapped like a riding crop against the high ceiling.

      She stopped, her heart thudding against her breastbone. She faced him because it would be rude to look over her shoulder. “Yes, my lord?”

      “Wait, Miss Oliver.” This time, his voice was less sharp.

      Though every instinct told her to run, she said, “Of course, my lord.”

      “Ouch!” Bertie chirped. “Don’t squeeze my hand so hard. Ouch!”

      She lessened her grip as the viscount’s eyes narrowed before he looked to his right.

      “Goodwin!” he shouted.

      The short, muscular valet came through a door beside the fireplace. His hair was almost as dark as Lord Trelawney’s, but his eyes were a common brown. When she had seen him in the corridors, he always had offered her a friendly—but not too friendly—smile and a kind word. He did not even glance in her direction as he spoke to the viscount.

      “Do you need something, my lord? Another pillow, perhaps? Some of the liquid Mr. Hockbridge left for the pain?” His voice was a warm tenor, surprising in a man of his solid build. “I wish you would take at least a single dose. He said it would help you sleep.”

      Maris clamped her lips closed before she could reveal her astonishment. She had assumed Lord Trelawney was talking so much because he had taken laudanum. If that was not the cause, what was?

      “Will you light some lamps?” the viscount asked. “It is getting dark in here.” Humor laced through his words as he added, “Unless I am about to swoon again.”

      “I think not. Mr. Hockbridge says there is nothing more wrong with your head than usual.”

      Maris was further amazed when Lord Trelawney guffawed as his valet lit a lamp on either side of the viscount’s chair. Goodwin had made a jest, a rather insulting jest, at the viscount’s expense, and Lord Trelawney found it amusing. Was the stern, almost silent man different in the privacy of his own rooms? She had seen his sadness and regret, but what other aspects of himself had he kept hidden from her...and the rest of the world?

      “Goodwin,” the viscount continued, “Miss Oliver needs young Bertie returned to the nursery and the word to go out that he has been found none the worse for his adventures. Take the lad to the nursery and hand him over to...?”

      “Rachel,” Maris supplied.

      “Yes, hand him over to Rachel and let her know that Miss Oliver will be returning shortly.”

      “Certainly, my lord. I will spread the word that Master Bertie is safe.”

      “Yes, thank you, Goodwin.”

      The valet bobbed his head, then crossed the room to where she stood with the child. He held out his hand.

      Bertie stared at it, but did not move.

      “Go with Goodwin, Bertie,” she urged. “You heard Lord Trelawney ask him to take you to the nursery.”

      “Want you.”

      “I will be there soon, but you need to hurry, or the cakes for tea will be gone.”

      As she had guessed, the mention of sweets changed Bertie’s mind. He placed his hand in Goodwin’s and went toward the door. “Goodbye, Arthur,” he called over his shoulder.

      The valet exchanged a startled glance with Maris.

      “Goodbye, Bertie,” the viscount said.

      When the door closed behind the servant and child, Maris clasped her hands in front of her. Her feet again urged her to flee, but she could not leave without being dismissed. She had no idea if anyone else was in the viscount’s rooms or even nearby.

      “Miss Oliver, would you mind sitting where I can see you without craning my neck?” Lord Trelawney asked.

      Meekly, feeling like a lamb bound for slaughter, she walked toward where he sat. When she hesitated, he gestured at a chair to his left.

      She sat on the edge, her shoes pressed against the floor. She was being silly. Lord Trelawney had never been anything but polite and respectful, even when he was in pain.

      Shame flooded her. She had not asked what the extent of his injuries were, but she quickly rectified that.

      “A strained knee and a twisted ankle,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Hockbridge told me to rest my leg today and to use the laudanum if I needed it to sleep tonight. In spite of Goodwin’s nagging, the pain is tolerable. Tomorrow, the doctor wants me to walk around a bit, using a cane, and to increase the distance I walk each day after that. He tells me in a few days I will experience no more than some twinges.”

      “That is good to hear.”

      “Very good to hear. How are the children?”

      “At the moment, they are subdued, but I am sure that by the morrow they will return to their normal selves. From what your sisters have told me, after they were rescued, they recovered swiftly, save for a few nightmares. Those nightmares may have nothing to do with what happened to them. Maybe normal childhood fears of the dark and big animals.”

      “Like bears?”

      “Yes. Thank you for your kindness to Bertie.”

      “He is a fine lad.”

      “When he is not being a naughty one.”

      The viscount chuckled again. “I saw your face when I admitted to being a bear. I want to assure you that I had no intention of scaring the boy. Not again, at any rate.”

      Her face heated, and she wondered if she was blushing again. “I should have known that, my lord.”

      “Why? You don’t know me well enough to guess beforehand how I might act.” He did not pause as he said, “Do me a favor, and do not chastise Bertie for calling me Arthur. I would prefer that he do so with a smile than cower away from me as he did before.”

      She rubbed her hands together on her lap and stared at them. “I must warn you that when one of the children takes on a bad habit, they all seem to latch on to it quickly.”

      “That is fine. As my goal is to get to know the children better, СКАЧАТЬ