A Lady Unrivaled

by Roseanna M. White

  Abingdon waved the gems as if they were no more than glass beads. The boy had blond hair, like both his parents, and his mother’s mischief always in his eyes. Ella absolutely adored him—and greatly pitied his nurse, who always had a frazzled look about her, even though Brook spent far more time with her son than most ladies did. Now Ella rushed into his path with a laugh of her own, arms open to intercept him.

  But he knew her too well, and knew that she’d pry whatever he had stolen from his fingers. With another happy baby giggle, he squealed and changed directions, toddling and weaving his way toward a blanket someone had spread out, strewn with toys. His knees folded at one point, and he crawled for a step before pushing his way back to his feet and starting again.

  Ella chuckled as Brook came to her side. “What has he stolen this time?”

  “My bracelet. How he managed to get the clasp undone, I’ll never know. Smart little monster.” Grinning with pure maternal pride, Brook flipped away a curl that had fallen into her face . . . and then touched a hand to her stomach. “Perhaps the Lord will take pity on us and send us a calm, sweet little angel like Addie next time.”

  “Next time?” With a happy squeal, Ella drew her friend in for a joyful embrace. “Congratulations, Brook! Is that why your husband had such a proud gleam in his eye at supper last night?”

  Brook gave her a squeeze and drew away with contentment in her eyes. “He accused me of planning it this way so I’d have an excuse to stay at home for the Season.”

  “The happiest excuse one could ever devise.” Lord Whitby’s words preceded his arrival from beyond the hedge by a second or two. “Though I have already begun trying to lure them to Yorkshire for the summer, if they eschew London.” He stepped directly to his daughter’s side, pressed a kiss to her head, and crouched down, holding his arms wide. “Come here, Bing. Come to Grandpapa.”

  The miniature marquess had his grandfather wrapped firmly around his little finger, and well he no doubt knew it. The boy emitted another happy noise and changed course again, barreling toward Whitby and tumbling into his arms. The earl stood, his brows in a frown but a smile hovering about his lips as he tugged the bracelet from the toddler’s fingers. “Found your grandmama’s jewelry again, I see.” He angled a sharp look at Brook.

  She held her hands up, face all innocence. “I didn’t give it to him, Papa. He took it straight from my wrist while I was playing with Addie. I was just telling Ella how I hope this next baby is a girl, and calmer.”

  Whitby snorted a laugh and tickled his grandson’s tummy. “Don’t let her fool you, Bing. You have inherited your mischief directly from your mother, and it serves her right if you manage to outdo her in it.”

  Ella’s mind had snagged on that playing with Addie. If Lord Cayton’s daughter was here, that meant he was here. Which meant she may see him again, and she wasn’t sure what she thought about that. Brook had spent much of the evening seething about his treatment of her cousin, Melissa, of her hopes that it would all finally be put to rest.

  By the time Ella had sneaked back down to the library, she was fully convinced that he was a man to be avoided.

  Never mind that he was so very handsome, and that her pulse had sped so deliciously at his touch. A bit of romance wasn’t worth heartache, which he seemed to bring with him.

  She turned away from Brook and Whitby, listening now for other baby sounds and the soft coo of a nurse. It was hardly the daughter’s fault that her father was a rake, and Ella could never get enough of children. A few steps along the white gravel of the path, around a hedge, and she spotted child and caretaker, headed their way with a smile.

  Addie, about three months younger than her energetic cousin, crawled through the grass, but not upon her knees—she rather seemed determined to spare her gown any stains and was on feet and hands, her little bottom straight up in the air. So charming a picture did she make that Ella couldn’t help but laugh.

  The nurse looked up and curtsied upon spotting her. “Good morning, milady.”

  “Good morning.” Not wanting to startle the little one, Ella eased closer. “What a little darling. She is about nine months old, if I remember correctly?”

  The nurse nodded. “Lady Adelaide Azerly, though we all call her Addie.” She said it with pride and affection and then dipped her head as if afraid it was misplaced. “I’m Tabby, milady. Been her nurse since the day she was born.”

  “Lady Ella Myerston.” Gaze still focused on the girl, who had paused and now looked over at her, Ella crouched down much as Whitby had just done. “Hello, sweetling. Aren’t you the prettiest thing? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such beautiful large eyes.”

  They were a brilliant blue, making a striking contrast against her cap of feathery dark hair. And when those perfect pink lips parted in a grin, Ella was quite willing to declare herself in love. Another happy laugh tickled her throat when Addie shifted course and crawled toward her. “Are you coming to make your own introductions? What a polite little girl.”

  Addie came directly to her, going so far as to pull herself upright using Ella’s knees.

  Tabby lurched forward. “Oh, milady! Her hands are grubby, she’ll soil your lovely dress. Let me take her—”

  “Nonsense. It doesn’t matter.” To prove it, Ella sat down in the grass so the little one could crawl into her lap. Lewis would have had a fit—but then, her maid wasn’t there. Ella had sent her on a holiday to visit her family, not wanting anyone from Midwynd with her while she sought out information on the Fire Eyes. And here was another added benefit—no familiar maid to sigh and scold and badger her for every stray stain and misplaced shoe. And brush. And book. And necklace. And . . .

  Addie obligingly settled in Ella’s lap, fisted her hand around some grass, gave a tug, and held up her treasure with those wide, guileless eyes.

  Yes, Ella was most assuredly in love. And a baby, still so innocent, she was in no danger of misjudging. She took the proffered gift with a smile. “Why thank you, Addie. I shall cherish it always.”

  Tabby settled across from her with a bit of a frown. “She’s usually wary of strangers. You must have a way with children.”

  “Children and animals, as it were. Right, Ella?” Brook’s voice came from behind her, but Ella didn’t turn her head away from her little guest to see her friend. Brook would probably read in a flash that she’d been in the library again last night when she should have been sleeping and would take the liberty of locking the doors tonight lest she repeat the infraction.

  “You cannot deny the evidence.” She stroked a hand over Addie’s silky hair. And if ever she found the right gentleman—after she’d managed to ensure Brice and Rowena and their babe were safe from the Rushworths and the Fire Eyes business—she wanted nothing more than to settle down and obtain a passel of children. And puppies. Perhaps a kitten or two. Blessed, precious chaos.

  Addie loosed a high, happy sound and grabbed another handful of grass. This time, she tossed it in the air and clapped when it rained down.

  Tabby scolded. Brook laughed and said, “Beautiful adornment. Though no doubt full of bugs.” Her fingers skittered over Ella’s shoulder, up onto her head.

  Laughing, Ella batted her friend away. “You are as bad as the children, Brook. It’s no wonder your son is so wild.”

  “They bring out the best in me. Just wait until they’re grown enough to handle cricket bats and tennis rackets. I shall teach them all manner of ways of terrorizing their fathers.” This last part she said more loudly.

  Ella turned her head enough to see Stafford approaching on the path, grinning. And Lord Cayton beside him.

  Drat. There it was, that same flutter in her chest that made her breath catch and butterflies perform acrobatic stunts in her stomach. It was simple attraction, she knew that. But she had noticed handsome men plenty of times before. Why did it tug so strongly this time, when he was quite clearly wrong for her?

  Addie clapped grass-scented hands to Ella’s cheeks and declar
ed quite seriously, “Dadadada.”

  Ella grinned. “There he comes indeed. You are as brilliant as you are beautiful and charming, my lady.”

  She expected the child to lift her arms toward him, or to Brook or the nurse, but she seemed quite content to kneel precariously on Ella’s legs and stare at her. And the why soon became apparent, when with another happy squeal she abandoned her cheeks and reached with both hands for Ella’s hair. One tug and pins went flying.

  Really, Ella had no choice but to laugh again, though to hear the other women scold, one would have thought the little one had committed some grave error. Ella held her steady and made no move to free her hair from the insistent little fingers.

  Tabby rushed to one side of her . . . and Cayton appeared on the other.

  “Apologies, milady!” The nurse sounded more than a little chagrined. Which was probably why her shaking fingers managed only to create more of a snarl.

  Ella chuckled. She would not be bothered by Lord Cayton—neither by his nearness nor his list of heartless infractions. “It is no great matter, Tabby. No need to fret. She just wanted to guarantee my undivided attention is all. Well, you have it, my little sweetling.”

  Addie grinned her appreciation.

  Cayton went to work on the little fingers nearest him. “I daresay she is simply intrigued by the shade, my lady. I don’t know that she’s ever seen red hair before.”

  Behind her, Brook snorted a laugh. “Oh, now you’ve done it. Back away, Tabby, before you take some of the shrapnel. Cayton, I shall sing a requiem at your funeral.”

  The nurse, confusion on her face, stood up. Cayton’s fingers froze. “Pardon?”

  Ella reached up to take over where Tabby had left off, freeing that one side relatively quickly. Handy, since that meant she could turn her head to glare at Cayton. Whose face was close enough to hers that she nearly forgot to be angry and focused instead on memorizing the way his brows fit so perfectly over his eyes. Nearly.

  Instead, she added the gravest of all infractions to his list of them. “She is referring to the fact that I get a bit defensive, my lord, when someone mistakes my hair for red—when, really, anyone can see it’s auburn.”

  Most gentlemen had the good sense to stutter out an apology when they had committed that particular crime. This one just lifted those perfect, strong brows and met her gaze. “No. Auburn is equal parts brown and red. Yours, Lady Ella, is quite simply red.”

  Ella glared. Even if his fingers in her hair made her scalp tingle. “My apologies, my lord—I didn’t realize you were color-blind.”

  He had the gall to grin. “No, no. My apologies, my lady. I didn’t realize you were delusional.”

  “It is not delusion, just simple fact.” She reached up, knowing she had better put some distance between them so she could school her ridiculous reaction to him. But if she tried to free her hair on that side, her fingers would brush his. And she could hardly stand with any grace from this position.

  Drat—she was stuck. And, if she were being honest, enjoying it just a bit. She set her hand on Addie’s back again.

  His fingers moved, quickly loosing his daughter’s hold. In the next moment he was rising, chuckling, and helping her to her feet along with him. “Obviously a sore spot with you, though I cannot fathom why, Lady Ella.”

  He had obviously never had crowds gawk at him and whisper words like vulgar as often as they whispered lovely. It was one thing to end up the center of attention due to one’s wit and charm—quite another to have it foisted upon one because of the beacon of one’s hair.

  He held out his hands for his daughter. “Come, Addie. Time to go home.”

  Tabby dipped a quick curtsy. “Shall I go and gather our things from the nursery, milord?”

  “Please do, yes.” Cayton’s face had fallen into a frown again, though. Probably because Addie still made no move to go to his arms. “Come to Dada, Addie.”

  The little one smiled at him but kept an arm looped round Ella’s neck—then lunged, but not toward her father. She reached out a hand toward the bushes growing at the edge of the garden just beginning to bud, her shift pulling Ella a step toward the path.

  Ella was happy enough to oblige. “It seems Addie and I are taking a little promenade before you leave with her, my lord.”

  Cayton, however, kept pace beside her. “If you let her, she’ll steer you all about the estate like that.”

  “And a better way to explore it I cannot imagine.” Settling the girl more comfortably on her hip, Ella let her lean whichever way she wanted to go. Perhaps a conversation with the little one’s father was all it would take to make Ella push aside attraction and forget any silly notions about him.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see if Brook was scowling a warning at her, but her friend was talking with her husband and father, not seeming too concerned about Ella wandering off with Cayton.

  He obviously wasn’t that much a reprobate, then.

  She smiled up at him, a bit of softness creeping in when she saw the way he watched his daughter. “You seem to be quite involved with her. Most men I know would simply leave a babe to the nurse’s care in your situation.”

  Given the storm clouds that gathered in the green of his eyes, it must be as much a sore spot with him as her hair was with her. “She’s my child, not the nurse’s.”

  Yes, definitely a sore spot. But Ella’s smile didn’t waver. “I didn’t mean it as an admonition, my lord, but as a compliment. Surely you aren’t so unfamiliar with them that you can’t tell the difference.”

  He sighed, the clouds parting. “My apologies. My wife’s last words were that she knew I would be a good father, that I would love our daughter. Stafford insists I’m so determined to honor her vision of me that I’m going to extremes to prove her right.”

  “I’m sure your cousin speaks from concern for you. But how could you not dote on her? Look at those eyes.” When Addie turned them on her, Ella laughed. “Yes, sweetling, I’m talking about you. But all good things, I promise you.”

  Addie grinned, showing off gums with two teeth just beginning to poke through, and leaned to the left. Ella happily abandoned the path and cut through the lawn.

  Cayton was frowning again. “She doesn’t usually take to people so quickly.”

  “She must be an excellent judge of character.” Unlike Ella.

  “Ah, right. I believe you were in the middle of saying something about children and animals loving you when you were coming out the library yesterday—though I interrupted you before you could finish your claim about gentlemen. How is it we are to respond?”

  She wouldn’t flush, she wouldn’t. So she chuckled instead. “I believe I was about to claim that they all fell at my feet in adoration, but I may have been exaggerating slightly for Brook’s benefit. To be honest . . .” She leaned his way just an inch or two. Looked up into his evergreen eyes. “I haven’t quite the way with animals I claimed either. Oscuro tried to nip at me yesterday when I dared compliment the sheen of his coat.”

  Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “That horse is a menace, my lady. A magnificent menace, I grant you, but you needn’t take it as an indictment against your charms.”

  Addie reached for a butterfly fluttering overhead, apparently done with steering. So Ella angled them away from the garden. “You needn’t worry for me, my lord,” she said on a laugh. “Neither my confidence nor my lies about it can be shaken so easily.”

  “You do that a lot.”

  His tone was far too serious, contemplative. Her brows drew together—she had only been jesting. “Lie, you mean?”

  “No.” His lips twitched up but settled back into a serious line again. “Laugh. Smile.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, though she realized only then that she’d tensed them. “I do, at that. And why not?”

  “One might ask instead why.” He motioned toward the sky—blue overhead, but clouds gathered on the horizon. “Life is as much cloudy days as bright ones. More, of
tentimes.”

  “Well, we are in England.” When Addie rested her head upon Ella’s shoulder, she reached to smooth down a wisp of that impossibly soft hair. “And yet most people never realize how many of those clouds can be broken through with a bit of sunshine. Why shuffle about in the dark on a cloudy day when one can brighten it oneself?”

  He fastened his gaze on the horizon. “You think a smile can actually change things?”

  “It absolutely can, when aimed at a person who needs one.” And the certainty slithered inside her that this man at her side most definitely needed one. He wore weariness in the line of his shoulders, a bit of dejection in the angle of his head. She hadn’t noticed it at first behind his utter handsomeness and the stories of his mistakes, but there it was. “And what changes things even more is hope. Faith. When we believe, my lord, amazing things happen. Ours is a God who delights in providing for His children, who charges us to be whole, complete, to find joy in all our circumstances through Him.”

  The breath he drew in looked as if it barely sustained him, much less fortified him. “I am learning to believe that . . . but it is difficult when one sees only what one has lost. No matter how we believe, people still die.”

  “They do.” There were still times she found herself wanting to run and tell her father something. Still times Mama’s eyes would flood with tears at the mere mention of him, or of something he had loved. It had been only a year and a half since his heart had failed him at their home in Scotland, and sometimes the pain hit with as much fierceness as it had that day when she realized he was gone. “And it will always hurt to lose those we love. But if we live in fear of losing them, or of dying ourselves, or if we focus only on the hole their passing leaves behind . . . then do we not cheapen life? If we value it so highly that we mourn its passing for years, then ought we not live it to the fullest?”

  “Hmm.” It was a thoughtful hum, his gaze remaining locked on the distance. But the line of his shoulders lifted a bit. “You do have a point.”