The Earl's Honorable Intentions Page 8

  As he spoke, he held the baby securely, passing one hand over her tense little body, the way he would have caressed Severn’s neck or flank before a charge. He wasn’t certain it was doing the child any good, but at least it made him feel calmer and more in control.

  “I’m sorry to be such a dunce about all this, but it is rather uncharted territory for me.” Was it his imagination or were the cries becoming less shrill? “I wish you could tell me what is wrong and how I can help, but I suppose that would be too much to expect from someone of your age.”

  Horses could not speak to explain their troubles, either. Yet over the years he had learned to interpret the different sounds they made and the physical signs that indicated their moods and their needs. Did women learn to do the same with babies?

  His daughter was definitely growing quieter. That certainty brought Gavin a rush of relief, charged with a flicker of triumph that he’d seldom felt, except after winning a battle. Could little Alice be responding to his easing tension?

  “That’s better.” He wiped away a tiny tear with the tip of his forefinger. He could not resist grazing it over the baby’s cheek. He had never felt anything so soft. Not the finest kid leather. Not even the petal of a flower. Something this small and soft called forth all his strength and courage to protect it.

  “Shh, shh. Everything will be well. You’ll see. I will hold you safe until Miss Fletcher returns.” Gavin kept talking about anything and nothing, for his words would have no meaning for the child, only the tone of his voice.

  At last, after a series of little grunts and sniffles, Alice’s crying subsided. Had she gone back to sleep? Gavin angled his head and titled her slightly to check.

  No. His daughter was wide-awake. She fixed him with a solemn stare, as if she was committing every feature of his face to memory. He could not help smiling. All thought of his earlier unease faded, eclipsed by feelings that were entirely new to him.

  “Isn’t that better?” Without conscious effort, his voice took on a tone unlike any he’d ever used before. “Shall we just lie here and enjoy one another’s company? I must confess I find the prospect of raising a daughter rather daunting. I hope you will not hold it against me if I make some mistakes over the next twenty years or so.”

  He could not resist grazing his knuckle over the delicate roundness of her cheek. To his surprise, she raised one tiny hand and grappled onto his finger with surprising strength.

  “Looking to shake hands, are you?” Gavin’s smile stretched wider as he bobbed his finger up and down. “Good day to you, Lady Alice. Allow me to present my compliments.”

  He drew her hand toward his lips and pressed a soft kiss on it.

  A chuckle bubbled up in his throat only to find it strangely constricted. What in blazes had come over him?

  He was still trying to sort out his feelings when Miss Fletcher breezed back into the room. “There, I said I would not be long and the baby would be no trouble.”

  Gavin managed to wrench his gaze away from his daughter to direct it at her godmother. “Why did you thrust her upon me and run off like that? It woke her. She began to cry. You must have heard. I thought you promised to safeguard her welfare.”

  “I did,” Hannah Fletcher protested. “I was! Your children’s well-being will always be my first concern.”

  Gavin detected a quaver of guilt lurking beneath her words. It suggested she was not as confident of her motives as she pretended to be.

  When he continued to stare at her without another word, Miss Fletcher’s conscience got the better of her.

  “Perhaps it was not my best idea.” She heaved a contrite sigh as she dropped heavily onto her chair. “But I knew no harm would come to your daughter, and I was right. You managed to soothe her, which can take some doing. I suspect you have far more skill with little ones than you realize.”

  “With big ones, actually.” His gaze strayed back to his daughter’s small face as if drawn by a powerful magnetic force.

  When she stared back at him with rapt interest, the corners of his lips arched upward quite against his will. How was he supposed to impress on Miss Fletcher the gravity of her error when he was grinning like a fool?

  “Big ones, sir?”

  “Horses.” Gavin raised his forefinger again and watched with wonder and amusement as baby Alice reached out and clenched her diminutive fingers around it. What a strong grip she had for her size! That would be a great asset to her when she grew older and learned to ride. “I have never been good at understanding people—what they want from me and what makes them behave the way they do. I understand horses, though, and it occurred to me that babies might not be so very different.”

  He cast a quick glance at Miss Fletcher to find one of her eyebrows raised in a look of doubtful puzzlement. “Indeed? How so?”

  “The way they respond to a certain tone of voice and touch.” Gavin wondered what compelled him to make her understand.

  “I believe you may be on to something,” she replied. “In my experience babies also like to be rocked and bounced about gently. I’m not sure how you would manage that with a horse.”

  She concluded with a sputter of laughter, the first time Gavin had heard any such sound from her. Until that moment, he would have sworn Miss Fletcher did not know how to laugh. It was a very pleasant, infectious sound that coaxed an answering chuckle from him.

  Then he remembered his wife and his best friend had been dead for a very short time. Everything that had happened since then and the endless hours he’d been confined to bed made it feel much longer. But in the eyes of the world both bereavements were still fresh. He had no business laughing and feeling happy when he should be mourning Molesworth and Clarissa.

  With ruthless severity, Gavin forced his mouth into a stern line.

  Miss Fletcher stifled her chuckle just as quickly, making Gavin wonder if he had only imagined it. “However you managed to settle your daughter, I knew you would rise to the occasion. I felt it would do her far less harm to fuss a bit than to grow any older at a distance from her father. Alice needs you, sir. They all do. And this seemed the perfect opportunity to bring the two of you together.”

  Gavin wondered if Miss Fletcher might be right. Could this be his chance to become a better father than he’d been a husband? An opportunity to put the horrors of war behind him and become a man of peace?

  With his infant daughter cradled in his arms, he wanted to believe it was possible. But military experience had taught him that a single victorious skirmish did not ensure a successful campaign. He could not hope to achieve that goal on his own any more than Britain could have defeated Bonaparte without the assistance of its allies. Was it possible he might find a loyal ally in his former adversary, Hannah Fletcher?

  Chapter Six

  “IS IT QUITE necessary that you desert me to go off to church?” Lord Hawkehurst asked Hannah the next morning as he ate his breakfast. “There are no newspapers for me to read today. How am I to pass the time until you return?”

  A few days ago such complaints might have irritated Hannah, but closer acquaintance with the earl had made her more tolerant. Considering how hard he found it to abide inactivity, he seemed to be trying his best. He had not given in to the temptation to rise from his sickbed without the doctor’s permission, not even when Hannah had left baby Alice in his care.

  Listening to the gentle way he’d spoken to his infant daughter and watching the way he held her, Hannah had found herself strangely drawn to him. No doubt that was due to their mutual bond with the child. Whatever the reason, she was relieved her attitude toward him had begun to soften. It would be far more difficult to keep her promise to his late wife if she must constantly battle her aversion to the children’s father.

  “As to your first question,” she replied, “yes, it is necessary for me to go to church. With all that has happened of late, I need to seek comfort in the words of Scripture and pray for strength and guidance. It is vital that I take your son with me. Aft
er losing his mother, he needs the consolation only faith and love can provide.”

  “I suppose that is all true.” The earl finished his last spoonful of buttered eggs. “I beg your pardon, Miss Fletcher. I did not mean to be so beastly selfish. Being confined to a sickbed for days on end does not bring out the best in me. I reckon you need all the divine assistance you can get to put up with me.”

  Hannah did not disagree, though in truth she found him much easier to tolerate when he recognized his own faults. “To answer your second question, you might pass the time and observe the Sabbath by reading from your Bible. It may not be as current as the Times or the Morning Chronicle, but it contains words of wisdom that could well apply to the present situation. Or you could pray about matters on the Continent.”

  The earl did not greet her suggestions with much enthusiasm. “I am accustomed to taking more direct action, Miss Fletcher. But since I am unable to do that…”

  “You might be surprised at the power of prayer.” Hannah removed his breakfast tray to the butler’s table beside the door. “If nothing else, it might help you decide upon a course of action to pursue once you are well again.”

  She hoped the spirit would move him to remain at Edgecombe with his children and leave the fate of Napoleon Bonaparte to a higher power.

  “Perhaps.” The earl did not sound hopeful.

  Hannah wished she had taken Sunday into account when she’d made up his lordship’s schedule of activities. It was meant to be a day of rest, but he clearly needed as much activity as possible.

  “Before you go,” said Lord Hawkehurst, “I wish to speak to you about my daughter’s visit yesterday.”

  “Very well, sir.” Hannah braced for a reprimand she’d been expecting ever since.

  Perhaps she deserved it. Had she taken too great a risk by leaving the baby alone with a father who had little experience with infants and even less liking for them? Just because her gamble had paid off did not mean it had been wise.

  “Apart from a little crying, her visit did not appear to do the child any harm.” The earl sounded oddly defensive, as if he assumed Hannah would disagree.

  His remark was so different from what she had expected that it took Hannah a moment to recover from her surprise and produce a reply. “On the contrary, sir. I believe an opportunity to meet her father could do your daughter nothing but good.”

  Though he tried not to show it, the earl seemed pleased with her answer. “In that case, I would not object if you were to bring her for another visit sometime soon. Tomorrow, perhaps, if the weather permits.”

  This was so much better than she’d dared to hope. Hannah made no effort to conceal her happiness. She did have one reservation, however. “I can bring Alice again if you wish, sir. But what about little Arthur? You have not met your younger son yet, and I am certain you would not wish to favor one of your children over the others.”

  “No, indeed.” His lordship’s brow furrowed and his features settled into a pensive frown. “I would never want that.”

  The matter was clearly of great significance to him. Hannah could not help wondering why.

  “I never expected to have a family, you know,” the earl mused as if in answer to her unspoken question. “I never intended to have one. I was devoted to my military career, and I did not feel it would be compatible with family life.”

  “What changed your mind?” Was it impertinent to ask such a personal question of her employer? Hannah feared it might be. Yet she could not resist the inclination to know his lordship better. Perhaps if she learned more about his past and came to understand his motives, it might help her persuade him to do the right thing for his children.

  If the earl resented her question, he gave no sign of it. “My elder brother fell ill and died. Did Clarissa never tell you?”

  “No, sir.” Why should she?

  Hannah’s face must have betrayed her puzzlement, for his lordship offered an explanation. “As the new heir, I was expected to perform the duty for which I had been bred—step in to ensure the succession of the family title. My father insisted upon it. Clarissa had been engaged to my brother. After a suitable period of mourning, she seemed agreeable to accept me in his place.”

  So he had wed his late wife out of duty, not love. That explained a great deal about their marriage. Hannah wished she had known sooner. While there were some who might not approve of the earl’s actions, she had always set a high value on duty. If his lordship did, too, it seemed all the more likely she might help him recognize the duty he owed to his children.

  But what about their mother? Why did the earl suppose she had married him? To secure the title of countess, perhaps, or a fine home and fortune?

  “Why are you telling me this?” She was not comfortable with any knowledge that cast his marriage in a different light from the one she had long perceived.

  “I’m not certain, to be honest.” The earl sounded almost as puzzled by this unexpected confidence as she. “Perhaps I do not want you to think I care nothing for my children. I want to be a proper father to them, but I have no idea where to begin or whether I have it in me.”

  Would he rather not try at all than try and fail? Hannah found that attitude difficult to fathom. Her instinct in the face of possible failure had always been to try harder, do better, give more. “You have already made a good beginning with Alice, sir. You clearly demonstrated that you have it in you to be a fine father, if you are willing to try.”

  “Of course I will try. But if I am to have any hope of succeeding, I shall need… help.” The earl sounded almost ashamed to admit it. “Your help, Miss Fletcher. You have done a fine job helping me to endure my recovery. That schedule of yours has made the time pass more quickly. I can see now why her ladyship placed such great reliance upon you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Hannah’s face blazed. Past experience had made her much more accustomed to accepting slights and criticism than praise. For some reason, she found herself particularly uncomfortable receiving a compliment from Lord Hawkehurst.

  She told herself not to be so foolish. The more his lordship came to depend on her, the better chance she would have of dissuading him from returning to his regiment once he recovered. “I shall be happy to do everything in my power to assist you.”

  “Good.” The earl sounded relieved, as if he had expected her to refuse. “I hope that means when you fetch my son to visit you will not simply dump him upon me, then disappear, but rather stay and offer some advice on how to handle him.”

  “I did not dump…” Hannah began to protest. The words faded on her lips when she realized his lordship had spoken the truth. “Er… that is… of course, sir.”

  She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Dear me, I must be going, or Peter and I will be late for church. Since you have less than usual to occupy you today, perhaps I could call at the Wilkes’s cottage on my way back and bring Arthur for a visit this afternoon.”

  Hannah wondered if she might be pressing her luck with that suggestion. But she wanted the earl to spend as much time as possible with his children while he was confined to bed with few other matters to claim his attention.

  His lordship hesitated for a moment then replied, “That is an excellent idea. I shall look forward to it.”

  After what seemed like a very long time, but the mantel clock insisted had only been two and a half hours, Miss Fletcher returned to Edgecombe. It struck Gavin that she looked rather attractive in spite of her somber black mourning dress and bonnet. Her cheeks had a dapple of healthy color, and there was a becoming softness about her features that might have something to do with the baby she held in her arms. Or perhaps he was so desperate for company that even the old butler would have looked attractive in his eyes.

  “Lord Hawkehurst.” She perched on the edge of his bed and held up the baby for his inspection. “May I present your younger son, Arthur Gavin Horatio Romney.”

  The child was dressed in identical garments to his twin sister, a white
gown and cap with a blanket wrapped around him. Yet Gavin thought he could detect subtle differences in their looks. Little Arthur had darker brows than his sister and a tiny dimple in his chin. Unlike Alice, he was wide-awake and seemed less placid. His small fists flailed and his gaze swept the room, gradually focusing on his father’s face.

  “Well,” said Gavin. “That is an impressive name for such a little fellow to live up to. I suppose you will have no choice but to pursue a military career. Which do you fancy—the army or the navy?”

  Both were popular choices for younger sons of the nobility who would not inherit the family lands and fortune… unless some harm came to their elder brothers. Most peers liked to have at least one extra son—a spare who could inherit the family title if anything happened to the heir.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Miss Fletcher asked with a warm flicker of encouragement in her eyes. “I will not run off, I promise. I shall stay right here, prepared to take him back if you need me to.”

  Gavin’s face must have betrayed his misgivings.

  “There is no danger of breaking him.” Miss Fletcher bounced the child gently in her arms. “He is sturdier than he looks. Remember how well you managed with little Alice yesterday.”

  “Very well, then.” Gavin held out his arms, not wanting to appear a coward. “I suppose I cannot do much worse than yesterday. I will keep try to keep my voice down to begin with.”

  “That would be a good start.” Hannah Fletcher leaned closer to transfer the child into Gavin’s waiting arms. Somehow, she seemed more awkward about it than the previous day when she’d foisted his infant daughter on him without ceremony.

  Today she proceeded with much greater care. “There we go. Make certain you support his head. He is a bit too young to hold it upright on his own yet. But he will be soon, won’t you, Arthur? You are strong for your size. I reckon you will grow up to be a big, strapping man like your papa one day.”