by Sandra Owens
Everything the boy wanted was above all things. Chase hadn’t meant to have this conversation with his sons quite yet, but here it was, landed in his lap. He glanced down and realized he was still holding the pillow. No longer needed, he set it aside.
“It’s a possibility. And, Harry, the meaning of possibility is that it’s not a sure thing, so you are not to repeat our conversation outside this room. That applies to you also, Bensey.”
“But don’t you want to marry her?” Harry asked.
“It isn’t that. I want her to be sure it’s what she wants.”
Harry scowled. “She doesn’t want to marry you?”
“She loves him,” Bensey said.
Chase turned to Bensey in surprise.
“How do you know?” Harry asked. “Did she tell you so?”
“No, I see it in her eyes when she looks at him.”
Ah, his son with the artist’s eye. Harry beamed as if that settled everything. Now that all was well in his world again, he turned his attention back to his plate. Chase sent them off to get ready for dinner a few minutes later.
He stood and walked to the window. Carriages passed by, but he was too deep in thought to notice much about them. She had said she loved him, but somehow, hearing Bensey say it because he saw it in her eyes made it feel real.
Was he being obstinate by insisting she prove herself to him? What did he feel for her? There was desire and a great liking for her. If it was love, then it was different than it had been with his wife.
With Teresa it had been an obsession, something he never wanted to feel again. With Claire there was a kind of peace in it. On the few—too few—times he had made love to her, it had been like coming home after a long absence. Could love feel different depending on the person you loved? It was an intriguing question.
****
Wednesday morning, Claire met Chase and Harry in the breakfast room at dawn. She had been thrilled to find a riding habit in Patricia’s room. It was a little snug around her chest and a bit too short, but it would do until hers arrived.
“We usually eat light before our ride, just some toast and jam to tide us over,” Chase said. “Afterwards, we return for a hearty breakfast.”
“That suits me,” she said.
Harry grinned at her like a madman. She assumed it was because she was joining them on their ride until Chase narrowed his eyes at the boy. Harry ignored his father and continued giving her his maniacal grin. Come to think of it, he had watched her all through dinner last night.
“Have I done something to amuse you, Harry?”
“No yet,” he said mysteriously.
“So you think I am going to?”
“I hope so, above all things, my lady.”
“Harry,” Chase said, a warning in his voice. “Let’s be off.” He set his cup down and stood, not giving her a chance to question Harry further.
Claire crammed the last bite of toast into her mouth and followed them out of the room. When they reached the mews, Harry took off for the stables.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“Just Harry being Harry.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Good morning, Claire. I would rather be kissing your lips, but this will have to do. For now,” he added softly.
Her body hummed in response to the heat in his eyes, his touch and the male scent of him. He took the hand he had kissed and wrapped it around his arm as he led her to the stables where a saddled Amira awaited her.
Claire laughed in exhilaration as she raced alongside Chase and Harry. It had been four days since she had been on a horse and had missed it, even if she did have to ride sidesaddle. Amira reached the tree they had designated as the finish line a nose ahead of Victory. Mischief finished a head behind them. Harry eyed Amira with envy.
“No, Harry, don’t even ask. You cannot have her,” she laughingly said.
He hung his head and affected a pitiful face. “That makes me so very sad, Lady Claire, but if you were to promise me her first colt, I think I could be happy again.”
Oh, to call this precious boy her son. “Suppose I tell you I’ll consider it?” It would really depend on what happened between her and his father, but she couldn’t tell him that.
“Splendid!” he said, and she knew in his mind it was a done thing.
“Claire! Harry! Let’s go. Now!”
His voice held an urgency Claire had never heard before. Mischief added to her apprehension when he gave an agitated snort and laid his ears flat back.
Harry glanced behind them. “Cor,” he cried and took off.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Just go,” Chase ordered.
As she was gathering her reins, she heard a lady’s shrill voice. “Lord Derebourne! Lord Derebourne, wait, please.”
“Go!” Chase demanded and she did. Galloping away, she glanced over her shoulder to see a heavy-set woman walking briskly toward them, waving her hands wildly in the air. Who in the world was she that she frightened the wits out of Chase, Harry and even Mischief?
When they arrived back at the stables, Harry shuddered. “That was a close one.”
“Too close,” Chase agreed.
He slid off Mischief and came to Claire. Reaching up, he placed his hands around her waist and lifted her down. She could feel the heat of his hands through his gloves. Wake up, butterflies, she thought, and they did.
“Who was she?”
“Lady Montgrove,” Chase said.
“The last time we were in London, she caught me and Father in the park one morning and thought I was Father’s servant,” Harry said. “She looked down her nose at me. When Father tried to excuse us, she grabbed Mischief’s muzzle and held onto him.”
Then Claire didn’t like the woman either. “But who is she?”
“Someone we want to avoid at all cost,” Chase said.
“Why?”
“Because she devours men and has three marriageable daughters.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “There is only one woman I want nibbling on me.”
“Oh.” The butterflies went into a frenzy.
“Oh.” His face lowered toward hers, her lips tingling in anticipation.
“Are you going to kiss her, Father?” Harry asked.
They both turned to Harry, who now stood next to them staring with open interest. Claire’s cheeks flamed and she knew they had turned bright red. How did this man keep making her forget herself?
“Well, I was considering it. But I think we have embarrassed my lady enough for one day.” He winked at her and gave her a little shove. “Go on ahead. Harry and I will see to the horses.”
Claire returned to the house in a daze. She had almost kissed Chase in front of his son. What must Harry think? But he hadn’t seemed to be unhappy about it. He had looked curious, yes, but he’d also appeared pleased.
Would he and Bensey want her for a mother? They liked her as a friend, but would they be jealous of their father’s attention to her? What if they asked Chase not to marry her? She hadn’t considered how the twins would feel about bringing her into their little family.
How selfish not to think of them and what they would want. But there was also the possibility they would be pleased. How would they feel if Chase asked her to marry him?
****
“I didn’t mean to embarrass her, Father.”
Chase sighed. “I know, son, but a gentleman doesn’t take notice when a lady is about to be kissed.” He rested his hand on Harry’s head. “You do want to be a gentleman, do you not?”
“Oh yes, above all things.”
“I thought so. Now, let’s get our lady’s horse brushed and settled in her stall.”
They had grooms that could brush the horses, but he and Harry always performed this chore themselves. It was a part of their morning ritual and gave him the opportunity to teach Harry while also spending time with him. Chase caught sight of Mischief as he unlatched Amira’s gate and disappeared into her stall.
>
It just might be that both he and his horse were in love.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thursday proved to be a momentous day at Angel House. The documents making Harry and Bensey a Warren arrived, followed by a delivery from Madam Jacqueline. Chase asked his family—Claire was included in his definition of family—to attend him in the drawing room. He stood with his hands behind his back as they all filed in.
“Have a seat, please.” He hid his amusement when the four crowed together on the sofa as if they were in trouble and banding together.
“It has come to my attention…” He paused. Four pairs of wary eyes stared back at him. “We now officially have two new Warrens in our family.”
Harry understood immediately and let out a war cry. He jumped up, dragging Bensey with him and began to dance in a circle.
“Harry and Bensey Warren,” he chanted. Bensey looked at his father in question, and Chase nodded. Bensey’s smile was a beautiful thing to see.
“Do you know what this is about, Claire?” Lady Anne asked.
“I’m not sure.” Claire said.
Before he could explain, Harry suddenly stopped his little dance. “Does it say we are Warrens on paper, Father?”
Chase removed his hand from behind his back and held out the document. Harry reverently took it from him. “The important part is the last paragraph.” But it seemed Harry was determined to read the entire thing. Chase took a seat near Claire.
“I have officially had their names recorded as Warron. Eventually, I’ll have to explain to them why it is spelled with an o and not an e.”
Harry came and handed him the paper. “They spelled it wrong, Father.”
He should have known it wouldn’t get past Harry. How best to explain hereditary issues to a boy of nine? “As much as I would like it to be spelled exactly like mine, they wouldn’t let me because you or Bensey might want to be the earl someday.”
“They aren’t very smart, are they? Even me and Bensey know your true son will get to be the earl.”
Lord, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “No, I don’t suppose they are. It will still sound the same when you say it, however.”
“Oh, Kensington, this is a wonderful thing you have done,” his mother said. “I must go write your brother and sisters about this.” She kissed him on his forehead before leaving.
“This is the grandest thing, Father, above all things.”
“I am happy that you are happy, Harry.”
“Harry Warron,” his son corrected.
“I’m not going to call you Harry Warron every time I say your name.”
Disappointment crossed Harry’s face. “Then will you just for today so I’ll know how it feels to be Harry Warron?”
The boy hadn’t lost the ability to slay him. “For today only, Harry Warron.”
The pleasure on Harry’s face at hearing his new name spoken was reward in itself for the effort and money it had taken to make this happen. Harry turned to Claire. “Will you call me Harry Warron for today, Lady Claire?”
“Of course I will, Harry Warron.”
Bensey came and stood next to him. “I want to be called Bensey Warron for today, too.”
Chase pulled Bensey between his knees and pointed to his cheek. “Give me a kiss right here, Bensey Warron.”
His sensitive, artistic son kissed his cheek and then rested his head against his father’s chest. Chase feared he might cry. “I love you, Bensey Warron.”
Bensey grinned. “I love you, too, Father Warron.”
“Come on, Bensey Warron, let’s go tell Mr. Edwards and Anders our new name.”
“All right, Harry Warron.”
They left the room holding hands. Chase handed his handkerchief to Claire, and she buried her face in it. He thought he heard her say, “How could I not love you?”
****
An hour later, Claire impatiently waited for Chase and Lady Anne. A delivery had arrived from Madam Jacqueline and she had been ordered not to open anything until the two of them arrived. She walked to her bed and stared at the boxes. There were four dress boxes and several smaller ones. She was dying of curiosity and brought a hand from behind her back to touch the largest one. A knock sounded at the door, and she took a guilty jump back.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Chase walked in behind Lady Anne. “Did you peek?” he asked.
“No, but I must be honest and admit I was within seconds of doing so.”
He chuckled as he came to stand beside her. Lady Anne moved to her other side. He pushed the largest of the dress boxes aside. “We’ll save that one for last. Go ahead, choose one.”
She lifted the top off the one closest to her, and carefully opened the tissue. It was a lovely day gown in pale blue and white striped muslin.
“Oh, I love it.” It was the first gown a modiste had ever made for her. It was lovely. Growing up, her mother had made her clothes and when she married Thomas, the village seamstress had done so. Since Thomas never took her anywhere she had never had a need for many gowns, much less needed to be fashionable.
Lady Anne helped her take the day dress out of the box. “The color is perfect for you, Claire.”
“I think you can thank your son for that, Lady Anne.”
Chase grinned. “I am good, aren’t I?”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Kensington,” Lady Anne advised.
The next box revealed the one thing she most longed for, a riding habit. It was military style in a deep blue color. “Oh, as Harry would say, this is splendid!” She held it in front of her. “What do you think?”
“Like I said, I’m good,” Chase said.
Lady Anne shook her head. “Your head is swelling right before my eyes.”
Claire laughed. She had never considered how happy beautiful clothes could make one feel. The third box was another day dress, this one in a lovely rose floral print. She held it up and raised a brow.
Lady Anne sighed. “Yes, Kensington, you are good.”
“I know.”
Claire carefully placed the day dress on the bed next to the others and eyed the last box. When she pulled the top off and removed the tissue, she stopped breathing. It was the last gown he had chosen when they had gone through the fashion plates. The satin ball gown was the color of a rich burgundy.
“Oh, my.” She lifted it from the box. When she saw the back, she shook her head. “This is breathtakingly beautiful, but I can’t wear it.”
“Yes, you can,” Chase said.
“Let me see,” Lady Anne said.
Claire turned the gown to show the back. “I would feel naked.”
“It is unusual, my dear, but not indecent. Don’t decide until you try it on and then we will see. But I think you’re going to look stunning in it.”
“She will,” Chase said. “You need to try it on before Saturday to make sure it doesn’t require any alterations.”
“What is Saturday?” she asked.
“The Duke of Westhaven’s ball. I have accepted an invitation and it will be your debut into society.”
Claire had an immediate desire to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and refuse to come out until Sunday. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
He shook his head. “No, what you are going to be is spectacular. Now, what else is in here?” He rummaged through the paper, bringing out a pair of silver slippers and silver gloves. “Perfect.”
That was easy for him to say as he wouldn’t be the one wearing a dress with no back.
He picked up a smaller box and opened it. “Ah, here it is.” A corset the same color as the gown dangled from his fingers. “This is especially designed to go with the gown.”
“Really, Kensington, you should not be looking at her undergarments.”
He smirked. “Do you think I have never seen a corset before, Mama?”
“This is not a conversation you should be having with your mother. We like to think our sons a
re innocent little boys, even if said son stands two heads taller and seven stones heavier than his mother. ”
He waved it in front of her face. “I love corsets above all things, Mama, so what do you think of your little boy now?”
Claire could see Lady Anne fight a smile. Their rapport fascinated her. Mother and son had a deep love for one another. Their open affection and the way they teased each other made her regret even more the stiff, remote relationship she’d had with her parents.
They opened the last of the boxes and Claire was thrilled with the three silk chemises and the plainer corset intended for the day dresses. Nothing further was said about Chase being in the room as they admired the fine craftsmanship of her new undergarments.
The next two days flew by. Before she knew it, Saturday arrived and she was sitting in her bath while Maggie washed her hair. Except for Friday morning when she had tried on the gown, she had managed to put tonight’s ball out of her mind. The bath was the beginning of her preparations for the evening, and her nerves made an appearance. If only she could turn the clock forward and make it tomorrow. She dipped her head so Maggie could pour fresh water over her hair.
“There, my lady, all the soap is out.”
Claire stood, and Maggie handed her the drying cloth. “Maggie, what if I do something to embarrass him tonight?”
“Embarrass your lord? I don’t think that is possible, but what I do think is that you are getting yourself turned inside out for no good reason.”
A knock sounded at the door and Maggie opened it, accepted a note and small black box from a footman. When she handed them over, Claire opened the paper and read.
C
Wear no jewelry tonight but these.
C
Claire opened the box and gasped.
“Let me see,” Maggie said.
Claire turned it to show Maggie. Nestled on black velvet was a pair of long, egg-shaped ruby earrings.
“Oooh,” Maggie breathed.
****
Chase paced at the bottom of the stairs. He had never felt such anticipation over a ball in his one and thirty years. A swirl of red turned the corner and hesitated at the top of the stairs. Looking up, he stilled—his ability to breathe stolen by the sight of Claire.