Marry in Scarlet

by Anne Gracie

  He hesitated. “There were bad men. Kidnappers.”

  “I know. But they’ve gone now.”

  His arms tightened around Finn. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Your guardian paid the ransom, but nobody collected it. They must have left. Did they let you go?”

  He gave a funny secretive smile. “Not on purpose.”

  “You mean you escaped? That was clever of you—and very brave.” She could hear her horse, grazing placidly outside Phillip’s hiding place. “How about you come home with me now—back to Lakeside Cottage, I mean. I’m sure you must be hungry. Mrs. Harris will want to make you the biggest dinner with all your favorite things.”

  The mention of Mrs. Harris seemed to convince him to trust her. He followed her out of the thicket, and stopped dead when he saw the horse. “On a horse?” He gave her a troubled glance. “I can’t ride.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be with me. I won’t let you fall off. And later, if you want to, the duke and I will teach you to ride. Would you like that?”

  He nodded. She mounted, then leaned down and held her hand out. “Take my hand, and when I say three, you jump as high as you can. I’ll swing you up in front of me. One, two, three.” And Phillip jumped.

  Joy singing in her heart, George rode back to Lakeside Cottage, Phillip sitting up proudly in front of her. What a lovely surprise this was going to be for Hart.

  As they neared the house, she saw him coming over the brow of the hill from the other direction, something bundled over the saddle in front of him. “There’s the duke,” she told Phillip. “What a fine surprise we’re going to give him.”

  Both horses rounded the hedge at the same time and came to a halt. “Good God,” Hart exclaimed. The bundle in front of Hart wriggled and, with Hart’s aid, sat up.

  They stared, unable to believe their eyes. On the saddle in front of each adult sat a small grubby urchin. George looked from one to the other and back. Small grubby identical urchins.

  “Phillip?” Hart exclaimed.

  “Danny?” said George.

  “Danny,” cried Phillip joyfully.

  “Phil,” Hart’s urchin responded.

  George and Hart stared at each other, then Hart shook his head. “We’ll get to the bottom of this eventually, I’m sure—”

  “But first, food and baths all round,” George finished for him.

  * * *

  * * *

  “We were playing a trick on Mr. Jephcott,” Phillip explained between mouthfuls as the two boys plowed through a mountain of food. Mrs. Harris had cooked up a storm, but she’d insisted on baths before dinner.

  “We swapped clothes,” Danny said. “He never even noticed. He doesn’t even know which one of us is which.”

  “Has he gone?” Phillip asked.

  That was a point. “I don’t know,” Hart said slowly. “I haven’t seen him today at all.”

  “Me neither,” George said. “In fact, I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

  Hart glanced at Mrs. Harris who was hovering maternally over the boys, and gave her a silent signal. She nodded and hurried out.

  “So we were both dressed in the same kind of clothes—makin’ him see double, you see—and I was all ready to cross the lawn—he was snoozing in the sun as usual—when someone grabbed me and shoved a bag over me head,” Danny said. “I tried to yell, but they shoved a rag in me mouth, and tied me up and threw me into some kind of cart and took off with me.”

  “I saw it happen,” Phillip said, “so of course I followed.”

  Hart frowned. “You didn’t call for help?”

  The two boys exchanged glances. “No,” Phillip said. He was holding something back.

  “Good thing too,” Danny said, shoving a whole potato in his mouth. When he’d swallowed it, he added, “Wouldn’ta made any difference anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  Again the two boys exchanged glances. “Are you sure Mr. Jephcott’s not here anymore?”

  “Mrs. Harris has gone to check,” George assured him. “We’ll know in a few moments. So go on—what happened next? I want to know how you escaped—I presume it was Danny who escaped?”

  “Yes, I followed them,” Phillip said, “and I saw where they took him. It was a little tumbledown shed over the back beyond the mill.”

  “So then what did you do?”

  Again the boys hesitated, but at that moment, Mrs. Harris returned. “Jephcott’s gone,” she announced breathlessly. “All his things are gone too—he’s made a clean sweep. One of the maids said she saw him creeping off yesterday morning—would you believe it? Without a word to anyone.”

  Phillip gave a satisfied nod. “I was all ready to go for help and tell people what I’d seen and where Danny was—”

  “—and then he seen old Jephcott comin’ right up to the shed where they had me trussed up like a Christmas goose—” Danny continued.

  “Yes, and he knocked and then walked right in,” Phillip said indignantly. “And half an hour later he came out again—”

  “—and left me in there with those rotten bast—”

  “Bad men, he means,” Phillip interrupted hurriedly, with an apologetic glance at George. “So then I wondered, if Mr. Jephcott was in league with the kidnappers, who else might be involved?” He glanced at the housekeeper. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Harris. I didn’t know who to trust.”

  “Never you mind, Master Phillip,” she assured him warmly. “It weren’t none of us. We’ve all been worried sick about you. That wicked man. I never liked him, you know. None of us did. He thought himself so superior with his Latin and his Greek.”

  “I’m sorry to be suspicious,” Phillip continued. “And for hiding. I didn’t want anyone to find out that Danny wasn’t me, because . . .” He hesitated.

  Danny said bluntly, “Because he knew me old man wouldn’t cough up a farthing for my sake.”

  “Yes, and then Danny would be in danger,” Phillip said. “And he was my responsibility.”

  Hart nodded in approval. “You did the right thing.”

  “So how did you escape, Danny?” George asked.

  Phillip grinned. “I stole a couple of bottles of brandy from the cellar. I know where the key is kept and I sneaked in one night. I left them near the shed, and when the men got drunk, I let Danny out.”

  “Clever boy!” George congratulated him.

  “But what about your shoes and the breeches in the lake?” Hart asked after a moment.

  Danny looked embarrassed. “Them shoes were too tight—my feet are bigger than Phil’s, and after wearing them for near on a week, I was well rid of them.”

  “And the breeches?”

  Shame filled Danny’s eyes. He looked down and mumbled something inaudible. Phillip leaned forward and whispered in Hart’s ear, “The bad men didn’t always let him relieve himself in time. The breeches were soiled, so we threw them away. Danny stole back some of his old clothes.”

  Hart hoped he’d been able to keep his thoughts from his face. The swine, to shame a boy so, through sheer laziness. And then he had to steal back his own clothes.

  “Well, all I can say is that you boys have behaved admirably—with courage, intelligence and good sense,” Hart told them. “I’m very proud of you both.”

  The boys swelled visibly. “I was wondering . . .” Phillip began. “Danny doesn’t really want to go back—”

  “To that horrid man?” George interrupted, “I should think not! He will live with us, of course.”

  The duke, Phillip and Danny all stared at her.

  “With us?” Hart queried gently.

  “Naturally.” Avoiding his eyes, she forged on. “We’re not going to leave Phillip by himself in the country again, even though Mrs. Harris has been wonderful, and certainly Danny cannot go back to live with that vile c
reature who calls himself a stepfather. No, you boys will live with the duke and me. And Finn.”

  “Here?” Phillip asked carefully.

  “No, I cannot believe it would be pleasant to remain in the place where you were almost kidnapped, and I don’t imagine Danny will want to live close to his stepfather.”

  “No fear,” Danny said. Phillip’s eyes were wide.

  “So that’s settled. You’re both coming to live with us at . . .” She finally met his eyes. “At the duke’s place?”

  “Yes, at my place,” Hart said. The dazzling smile she gave him left him breathless.

  * * *

  * * *

  They reported the kidnapping to the local authorities, and Hart wrote off to engage a runner from Bow Street to track down Jephcott and his accomplices.

  “His references were genuine,” he told George, “but clearly the man was fed up with tutoring small boys and wanted to set himself up for a comfortable retirement.”

  That night in bed, after making love, George asked Hart if he minded her declaration that the boys would go with them. It had been a spur-of-the moment decision, and she didn’t regret it for a second, but she was aware that she’d given him no choice.

  “No, of course not,” he assured her. “I wouldn’t have expected anything else of you. The boys will be much better off living with you.”

  With you, she noted. Not with us.

  It was a sobering reminder.

  Two days later, they all removed to Everingham Abbey. As they arrived, staff spilled out of the front door and lined up to greet the duke. More than twenty people, all standing starched and straight; they were a daunting sight until George noticed the warm and genuine smiles that greeted the duke. He spoke to each one of them and introduced her to each by name.

  He was loved here, she could see. But by his demeanor, she wasn’t sure he knew it.

  The two boys, once they’d recovered from the sheer size and awe-inspiring atmosphere of the ancient pile, took the duke’s invitation to explore the place for themselves to heart.

  They took to their new location with gusto, finding enough fascinating nooks and crannies indoors to delight and entertain young boys in wet weather, and a sprawling garden, a bubbling stream and a nearby forest to explore by sunshine.

  George, too, was enthralled by its ancient archways and worn stone steps; the rich paneling; artwork in every room, amassed over multiple generations; the new sections grafted on to the old; the modern kitchen and the luxurious room set aside just for bathing.

  It was a fascinating mix of eras and styles and she loved its eccentricity. Hart, when he showed her around the house, was apologetic about its sprawling inconvenience and the rabbit warren of hallways and corridors, especially in the old sections, but she could tell his diffidence masked a powerful love of this place.

  The master bedroom was huge and a little intimidating, but once she’d passed the night with Hart, making love in the big old, extremely comfortable bed, she was reconciled to the heavy draperies and the general air of consequence. Once more the duke invited her to redecorate, but she wasn’t up to that yet.

  Besides, she had to remember that this wasn’t to be her house; in the marriage settlements they’d agreed on, she was to get a house of her own. The thought weighed on her.

  Danny, with an eye to future treats, ingratiated himself with the kitchen staff first, while Phillip introduced himself to the stable inhabitants. Every morning he raised some comment about life in the stables, indirectly and very politely reminding George of her offer to teach him how to ride. While after every meal, skinny little Danny gave the staff lavish compliments about the food.

  It amused Hart. “Those boys will do well in life,” he said to George after breakfast one day. “They know what they want and, each in his own way, goes after it; the subtle and the blatant.”

  On the second day George sent for her horse, Sultan, who she’d missed. Though the duke already had some lovely horses in his stables, none were suitable for small boys, so they took the boys off to a nearby farm and selected two well-mannered ponies suitable for boys just learning to ride. And when she heard about a litter of springer spaniel puppies in the neighborhood, she took the boys to choose a puppy each.

  * * *

  * * *

  The following month was like nothing the duke had ever experienced. It wasn’t at all how he’d imagined his honeymoon. Faint visions of gondolas and canals faded before the brisk domesticity of life at Everingham Abbey.

  The arrival of two small energetic boys and one slender, energetic bride had livened up the old house considerably. It wasn’t what he was used to, but he had to admit he enjoyed the change.

  George had very decided ideas on how they would all spend their time. It was to be a holiday, she insisted. A holiday, not a honeymoon.

  Acknowledging that Hart needed to deal with his correspondence and see to the supervision of the various estates he was responsible for, she graciously allowed him the mornings for that. The rest of the day—and the nights, she said with a sultry look—were hers.

  Hart had no quarrel with that. Their lovemaking was . . . He had no words to describe it. Richer. Deeper. Moving him in ways he’d never dreamed possible.

  Phillip, having discovered an interest in the pianoforte, was taking music lessons in the mornings, while George herself gave Danny his first lessons in reading, writing and arithmetic. The plan was for him to be caught up to Phillip by the time they would both go to school. Together, she told Hart firmly. When they were twelve or so.

  After luncheon, the activities were all outdoors, making the most of the good weather. George and Hart were teaching the boys to ride—and to care for their own ponies. At first Danny had objected to having to groom and muck out his pony, thinking he was somehow being demeaned, but Hart had raised a brow and said coolly, “A gentleman cares for his animals first. There are times when a groom will care for your horse, but you must first know how to do it yourself—properly.” After that, Danny had fallen to the work with a will.

  Hart had never taught anyone to ride and he was surprised how proud he felt at each boy’s progress. Phillip was careful and precise in following instructions, Danny was eager and occasionally reckless, but both boys were doing well.

  And once the boys had taken possession of their puppies, they competed to have the best-trained dogs. As for Finn, he was at first dubious about the roly-poly little creatures who seemed to adore him and follow him around, but within the week he’d resigned himself to their attentions, even to letting them chew on his ears and feet and tail and clamber over his body. Until he’d had enough, and rose and with great dignity stalked away.

  It was late summer. The weather was glorious, and they taught the boys to swim, the boys and Hart dressed in just their drawers, and George in drawers and a chemise. The boys were young enough not to notice how the garment clung, molding to her every slender curve, but Hart couldn’t take his eyes off her. His body reacted predictably, but with the boys present, he had no option but to stand waist deep in the cold water and think of unexciting things. And wait until evening came and he could take her to bed at last.

  Some days they rode out without the boys. They would swim, and picnic, and make love in the grass. He’d never made love in the open before. Neither had she. But it was glorious—as long as he remembered to take a rug.

  Time flew. Venice faded completely from his mind.

  “They’re gaining so much confidence—have you noticed?” George said to him one afternoon as they watched the boys putting their ponies through their paces. “Phillip has been almost naughty several times.”

  Hart gave her an incredulous glance. “You’re happy that he’s becoming naughty?”

  “Of course. It’s healthy in a small boy. He was so painfully well-behaved and responsible before.”

  Hart frowned. “
You say ‘responsible and well-behaved’ as if they’re bad things.”

  She grinned, understanding. “In an adult, responsibility is admirable—even necessary—but in a small child it’s . . . it’s unnatural. Poor little Phillip is afraid of making mistakes—even small, insignificant ones. But how can anyone learn if they don’t try things and make the occasional mistake?”

  “Then I suppose you’re positively delighted with Danny,” he said sardonically.

  She laughed. “Danny is making progress too. He’s not nearly so prickly and he’s really only rebellious if he’s uncertain or on edge—haven’t you noticed? But he learns from Phillip—the respect and care both boys have for each other is wonderful—and they both look up to you enormously, Danny especially. He is starting to model himself on you, you realize.”

  “Model himself on me?” Hart watched the scruffy urchin urging his pony over low jumps with loud yells more suitable to a savage. He could see no evidence of any modeling. “I hardly think so.”

  “It’s true,” she said tranquilly. “Both boys admire you tremendously. And they’re both making wonderful progress.” She raised her voice. “Oh, well done, Danny. Now you, Phillip.”

  Hart watched her calling encouragement to the two orphaned boys. If they were making progress it was because of her. Both boys adored her. To them she was some magical combination of mother, sister, mentor and playfellow.

  And Hart? He was purely dazzled by her.

  Family life. He’d experienced nothing like it in his life. She hadn’t grown up in a family either, so how did she know how to do this? Make four very disparate people, including two very different children, happy? But somehow she did.

  He’d only married to get an heir, and he’d chosen Georgiana Rutherford because the very sight of her swamped him with desire. And because she was independent and self-sufficient and wouldn’t be a drain on his time.

  But she was so much more than he’d expected.