by Adele Clee
“Come, children, take an arm each. Your father is stuck unless you lift me up.”
Lord Farleigh looked quite content lying on the grass in just his shirtsleeves. The thought that he’d removed his coat, and that the thin linen was all that lay between her and his bare skin, caused a host of scandalous images to flood her mind.
“Your cheeks are red.” Alice stared up at her.
“Are they? Well, it is rather warm out.”
Lord Farleigh cast her a sinful grin. “I have to agree. I too am rather hot beneath the collar.”
Jacob came to assist her, but she found the strength to stand.
In one fluid movement, Lord Farleigh jumped to his feet and set about brushing grass from his buckskin breeches.
Rose averted her gaze, and with trembling fingers fumbled with the scarf. “You are extremely good at tying knots, Jacob.”
The boy looked to his father who patted his head and winked.
“Allow me to assist you.” Lord Farleigh came behind her and set to work on the knot. The pads of his fingers slipped into her hair, brushing the sensitive skin on her scalp. “I thought you might be in need of rescuing when I saw Jacob dig up the worm,” he whispered in her ear.
“Thankfully, I couldn’t see it. Besides, I’ll take a worm over a bed full of toads.”
The scarf fell away in her hands, and she gave it to Alice. Either Lord Farleigh had no idea the item once belonged to his wife, or he found the fact unimportant.
“Now, I happened to notice some delicious smells coming from the kitchen.” Lord Farleigh hauled Alice up into his arms. “Shall we investigate?”
“Is it cake?”
Lord Farleigh laughed. “I’m pretty certain it is.”
With wide eyes, both children nodded. Lord Farleigh placed his hand on Jacob’s shoulder, and they walked towards the house. Rose wasn’t sure if she had the strength to take a step.
Lord Farleigh glanced back over his shoulder, then stopped and turned around. “Are you coming, Rose?”
“I … I wouldn’t want to intrude.” The children’s eyes swam with love and affection for their father. They drank in his attention, guzzled every last drop.
Lord Farleigh looked at his children and raised a brow.
Alice spoke first. “I think Rose should have a slice of cake because you almost squashed her.”
Jacob glanced at his father and then at Rose. “Anyone who can hold a worm without screaming deserves a reward.”
“Then it’s settled. Rose will join us on our hunt for cake.”
“Oh, oh.” Alice tugged on her father’s waistcoat. “Can we have a picnic?”
“Not today.” Lord Farleigh kissed the child’s forehead to ease her look of disappointment. “But perhaps tomorrow we might take a picnic to the lake if the weather holds out. Now, let’s go and harass Mrs Bates in the kitchen. Are you coming, Rose?”
Rose stared at them as a strange mix of emotions raced through her. For the first time in her life, a sense of belonging filled her chest. She did not want to address the sensations wreaking havoc with a more intimate part of her anatomy. Truth be told she was rather fond of Lord Farleigh. But feeding a mild infatuation would make leaving Everleigh harder to bear.
“Yes, I’m coming.” She ran to catch up with them. “How can I refuse a slice of cake?”
Chapter Seven
“Where on earth has she got to?” Christian paced back and forth at the bottom of the stairs. He turned to the children standing patiently at the newel post. “Did Rose attend to you this morning?”
Alice opened her mouth, but Jacob spoke first. “Mrs Hibbet laid out our clothes. We’ve not seen Rose today.”
“What if she’s run away, Papa?”
“She has not run away,” Christian said with a sigh, though the pang in his heart confirmed he suspected the worst. “She would not have left without speaking to me first.”
Perhaps he had frightened her away. After all, what innocent woman enjoyed being ogled by the master? Guilt flared when he recalled how he’d clutched her to his chest whilst lying sprawled on the grass. Damn.
“Does that mean we can’t go on the picnic?” Alice asked.
“We’ll wait for another five minutes.” A few seconds ticked by before the need to know what kept her proved too hard to ignore. “On second thoughts, Alice, would you run upstairs and knock on Rose’s door? Heaven knows where all the servants are today.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Alice climbed the first flight of stairs only to bump into Rose at the top.
“Alice, you made me jump out of my skin. No doubt I’m dreadfully late.” Rose took Alice’s hand, and they descended the stairs together. The child could not take her eyes off Rose’s hair and neither could he.
“Forgive me, my lord. When I woke this morning, I did not expect it would take so long to style my hair.” Rose stroked the soft curls that skimmed her shoulder. “A shorter cut suits me, don’t you think?”
Christian stared open-mouthed. What possessed her to cut her hair?
Alice took one look at his face and sobbed. “Does that mean Rose is leaving now?”
“Leaving?” Rose frowned. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
Rose glanced at Jacob who found it more interesting to stare at his shoes.
“Rose is not going anywhere.” Christian met her gaze. “The shorter style is quite becoming. Would you care to divulge what prompted the change?” He had his suspicions but wanted to hear her explanation before he accused his son.
Jacob sucked in a sharp breath.
“A woman who works for a living has no time to worry about managing her hair. This will be easier to deal with in the mornings.”
“So no one forced you to make the decision?” He cast Jacob a sidelong glance.
“Forced me? Not at all. One side looked considerably shorter in the mirror this morning that’s all. Now I’ve evened it up.”
One had to admire her level of compassion when it came to his children. More so when one considered she’d known them for two days. Most women would have insisted he beat the boy, demanded he offer some form of compensation to atone for the misdeed.
Rose simply smiled.
“It’s only hair.” She put her arm around Alice’s shoulder. “If I decide I don’t like it, I can grow it back. Now, shouldn’t we be on our way?”
She really was a remarkable woman.
Even so, it was time for him to sit down with his children and address their mischievous behaviour. He should not have left it so long. But sometimes the truth proved hard to bear, easier to ignore.
“Had anything untoward happened, you know I could not permit the picnic to go ahead,” Christian added purely to make the point to his son.
By rights, he should abandon all plans. But seeing his children smile eased his guilt. And an outing would give him an opportunity to learn more about Rose.
“The only thing untoward is that I am terribly late.” Rose picked up the wicker basket sitting on the floor at his feet. “But let’s not allow such an oversight to spoil the day. Time away from the house can be a tonic for a burdened mind.”
A brief respite from his troubles was exactly what he needed. “Then let us not waste another minute.”
They took a leisurely walk to the lake, situated a mile or so north of the house, far from Morton Manor’s boundary. The few dark clouds littering the sky did not spoil its beauty. No doubt the water was cold. But he noticed the way the sunlight sparkled on the surface. Birds sang. Dragonflies danced near the lake’s edge.
As a child, Christian had spent his summers rowing the boat from one bank to the other while his mother sat beneath her parasol and told stories of medieval knights fighting brave battles. They were amongst the happiest times of his life. And yet his children had never experienced such magical moments spent with a mother who cared.
The thought broke his heart.
He should have noticed the signs in the beginning, th
e tell-tale quirks that confirmed his wife was a vain, selfish woman who derived gratification from the attention of other men. But he’d been a fool, pressured into marrying based on nothing more than wealth and status.
And his children were the ones paying the ultimate price for his stupidity.
“Where shall we sit?” Rose placed the basket on the grass. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the area. “What about near those trees? There’s shade, and it’s still close enough to the water’s edge.”
“As you’ve come without a bonnet, anywhere out of the direct sunlight will be suitable.” He would speak to Mrs Hibbet on their return and send Rose into Abberton to purchase a few necessary items. He pointed to the cluster of trees in the distance. “I once carved my initials on the trunk of one of those trees.”
“Which one, Papa?” Jacob spoke for the first time since leaving the house.
“I can’t remember. See if you can find it.”
He hoped to have a moment alone with Rose, to thank her for not leaving on the first mail coach to London. To apologise for his son’s appalling antics. But Alice gripped Rose’s hand and tugged.
“Come on, Rose. The first one to find Papa’s name gets the biggest piece of cake.”
His children obsessed over sweet treats. In the end, they all hurried across the grass to the copse.
“Here it is!” Jacob cried, thoroughly pleased to be the first to find the markings.
They all gathered around the trunk. The children took it in turns to trace the indents with their finger. It occurred to him that Rose knew him only as Lord Farleigh.
“The letters stand for Christian Knight,” he informed her.
With wide eyes, she repeated his name as she perused him from head to toe. “Your surname is Knight? As in the heroes sent to rescue damsels in distress?”
The comment confirmed what he already suspected: she had a romantic view of the world. When Rose loved a man, he imagined she would give everything of herself, hold nothing back.
Christian cleared his throat. “As in a man known for his chivalrous conduct.”
“Do you always act with honourable intentions, my lord?”
The question caught him off guard. Was she teasing him or testing him? Should it be the latter, he’d fail miserably. If he told her what he’d thought about as he lay naked between the bed sheets last night, his declaration would prove false.
“Let’s just say that I may have a few things to confess at church this Sunday, but on the whole, I try to abide by my principles.” The sound of scratching forced him to tear his gaze away from her. Jacob had found a stick and was busy carving his initials, too. “Not too hard. You only want to leave an imprint in the bark not strip it away.”
“This will be a record of the day we spent at the lake,” Jacob said.
“Write mine, Jacob.” Alice tapped his arm. “Put it next to yours. And do Rose’s name, too.”
Rose snorted. “No, there’s no need to carve mine. Just think of the poor tree.”
“We were all here together.” Christian picked up a stick and handed it to Rose. “You must put your initials else it will not be an accurate representation.”
She pursed her lips, took one look at the children’s excited faces, muttered a few incoherent words and began carving.
Christian watched with bated breath. The urge to learn anything he could about the new governess burned in his chest. “Is that supposed to be a letter O or a D?”
“Isn’t it obvious.” Rose squinted as she studied her craftsmanship. “It’s a D.”
“D for what?”
Rose raised a brow. “D for don’t ask so many questions.”
Alice put her hand over her mouth and giggled.
Whatever Rose’s reason for secrecy, it didn’t matter to him. Lord, he’d locked himself away at Everleigh hoping no one would learn of the scandal involving his family. No doubt people gossiped behind closed doors. When a man’s wife died under mysterious circumstances, the husband was always the prime suspect.
“The only way to stop me asking questions is to feed me,” he said. “Everyone knows it’s rude to speak with your mouth full.”
“So you have a healthy appetite, my lord.”
The innocent comment amused him, particularly when his mind conjured a lascivious reply. “Sometimes it can prove impossible to ignore one’s cravings.”
“Then we’d be wise not to make you wait.”
After laying out the blanket and unpacking the basket, they spent the next hour lounging in the sunshine, eating ham and cheese, and fresh bread.
“Can we climb the trees, Papa?” Jacob asked though his lack of enthusiasm suggested he expected the answer to be no.
They were two miles from Morton Manor. The children were in no danger. “As long as you stay where I can see you.”
Rose’s penetrative gaze searched his face, her eyes only averting when the children jumped to their feet and raced off into the copse.
“What is it about the woods that makes you uneasy?” Rose sipped her elderflower cordial and then studied him over the rim of her glass.
To answer meant revealing his darkest secret. “Why did you protect Jacob when he is the reason you cut your hair?” A sigh left his lips. “By rights, I should have punished him.”
“And what good would that do? How many times has he gone to bed without supper?”
“If you’re trying to tell me I’m doing a terrible job of raising my children, then simply say so.”
Her gaze fell to her lap. “It is not my place to say anything at all. Even mentioning it is overstepping the mark.”
He was the only one guilty of crossing boundaries. But when it came to Rose, he couldn’t help himself.
“Other than Mrs Hibbet, you’re the only person I can speak to in confidence.” Christian dragged his hand through his hair. He didn’t know why, but this woman’s opinion mattered to him.
A tense silence filled the air.
“Do you always take picnics with the governess?”
“Never.” He shivered at the thought of sitting opposite Mrs Hanson and counting the hairs sprouting out of her over-sized mole. “As I’m sure you’re aware, the children go to great lengths to avoid spending time with anyone tasked with their care.”
“Children? You mean Jacob. Like all loyal sisters, Alice merely follows his lead.”
“Alice wants to make everyone happy,” he agreed. Thankfully, his daughter’s character was far removed from that of her mother, a woman who took pleasure from creating misery at every turn.
“And Jacob carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.” Rose looked up at the sun and squinted. “A brother will try to shelter his sister from the harsh realities of the world. And yet such a burden can become too much for him. I would hate for that to happen to Jacob.” She spoke in earnest, from experience.
“You have a brother?”
“I do.” A brilliant smile illuminated her face, but it fell away almost as quickly as it formed. “Though I have no idea where he is?”
“Where in England?” Perhaps he could help her find her family.
“Where in the world. He was in Italy when last I heard from him.”
Italy?
Her father must have been a wealthy merchant if his son had the funds to venture abroad. Or perhaps they were a family of gamblers, and with mounting debts, her brother had no option but to flee the country.
“Enough about my affairs.” Rose sat up straight. “If I have any hope of understanding Jacob’s motives, you need to be honest with me. Are you worried about the strange illness? Is that what keeps you awake at night, or does your restlessness stem from concern for the children?”
“Me?” He stabbed his finger to his chest. “I thought we were talking about Jacob. How do you know I struggle to sleep?”
She shrugged. “It’s merely an assumption I made.”
What was he supposed to say? Through his own stupidity, his children were mother
less. His inability to solve the problem with his staff left him questioning his own sanity, cursing his inadequacy. They were pathetic reasons.
In a bid to find a distraction, he sat up and began rearranging the plates and packing them away in the basket. Rose handed him her cutlery, and their fingers brushed.
Christian stilled.
Rose took the cutlery and placed it in the basket and then touched his hand. “You can tell me what troubles you. Your secret will never pass from my lips.”
The warmth of her hand penetrated his skin. He was so used to being alone. So used to partaking in silent conversations. Besides, he wouldn’t know where to begin.
“You have your own problems to deal with without worrying about mine.”
“Currently, your problems are mine.” Her hand slipped from his, and he felt cold to his bones once again. “I want to do everything I can to make the children happy.”
The words ‘while I’m here’ hung in the air despite never being said.
“O-only the children?”
She swallowed visibly and struggled to hold his gaze. “Shouldn’t a governess concern herself with the well-being of her charges?”
“Of course.” He nodded. “Of course.”
They continued packing the basket in silence. Rose looked at him numerous times beneath hooded lids. He supposed he should have said something but how did one explain the strange occurrences without sounding like a candidate for Bedlam? And no man wanted a woman to see him as weak, particularly not one as beguiling as Rose.
Thankfully, Alice came bounding up. “Can we play the scarf game?”
“Have you had enough of climbing trees?” Christian couldn’t help but smile. His daughter’s cheerful countenance always brought him a modicum of comfort.
Jacob joined them. “I’m too short to reach the boughs, and Alice wants us all to play together.”
Rose sighed. “But we didn’t think to bring a scarf.”
“What about using my cravat?” Christian sat up on his knees and fiddled with the knot. He’d do anything to prolong their outing. The house reminded him of everything wrong with his life. “It’s thin enough and easy to tie.”