by Adele Clee
“If you’re sure you don’t mind.” Rose studied his fingers as they worked the knot.
Once undone he tugged one end, and the silk slipped from around his neck. “The question now is who will go first.”
Rose’s gaze fell to the base of his throat, and absently she moistened her lips. “Perhaps you should. I know I’d like an opportunity to prod and poke you.” She laughed but then caught herself. “What I mean is it will amuse me to watch you wander about, helpless.”
A man didn’t need to wear a blindfold to feel helpless in Rose’s company.
Jacob tied the cravat around Christian’s head, and Rose came up behind him to inspect the knot. “We must make sure he cannot peek.”
The feel of her hand brushing his hair was almost his undoing. They pulled him to his feet and led him away from the picnic blanket. All three of them twirled him around until his head could no longer keep up with his body.
Alice giggled. “Come and catch us, Papa.”
Just like the game he’d witnessed yesterday, they took it in turns to pat his arms. One did not need to be a genius to identify the culprits. Alice tickled, Jacob stabbed and prodded, and Rose brushed her fingers over his arm and across his back. He caught the hitch in her breath whenever she came near.
“Watch the lake, Papa,” Alice cried. “You’re too close to the water.”
“Don’t worry,” Rose laughed, her breathless pants evidence she was running. “We won’t let you fall—” Her high-pitched scream pierced the air.
“Rose! Rose,” Alice cried. “Papa. Help.”
Panic flared.
Christian yanked the cravat up over his head. The brilliance of the sun’s rays forced him to blink rapidly. The white spots disappeared, and then he saw Rose in the lake. With arms flailing, she splashed about trying to keep her head above the water.
“It’s not too deep.” Christian cried. “You should be able to touch the bed.”
“I … I can’t swim.”
God damn.
Jacob teetered on the edge of the bank, his eyes watery and wide, his face ashen.
“Jacob!” Christian cried, but he was too late.
Without uttering a word, Jacob jumped in, too.
Chapter Eight
Rose splashed and kicked about in the water. Something slimy slithered past her legs. Her sodden dress dragged her down, but thankfully she’d landed where the water was shallow enough to stand.
The shove in the side had taken her by surprise. They’d been darting around Lord Farleigh, dodging his outstretched hands, laughing and screaming. Yes, they’d ventured too close to the edge. That’s how accidents happened. But in her heart, she knew Jacob had pushed her deliberately.
But then, as if the situation were not troubling enough, Jacob jumped into the lake.
“I’ll save you, Rose!” the boy cried, but his head disappeared beneath the water.
“Jacob!” Drawing on every ounce of strength she had, Rose found her feet. The murky ripples lapped around her shoulders, and she pushed forward in an effort to reach him. “Can he swim?” she shouted to Lord Farleigh, who was busy shrugging out of his coat. “It’s too deep for him.”
Alice waved her hand and cried out when Jacob’s head bobbed above the surface. He spluttered and coughed before disappearing again.
Lord Farleigh threw his coat to the ground and jumped in. Being taller and twice as strong as Rose, he reached Jacob and hauled the child up into his arms.
“You foolish boy,” he said clutching Jacob to his chest and pressing his lips to the child’s forehead as if he’d already lost him. Lord Farleigh’s gaze shot to Rose. “Are you all right? Can you touch the bottom?”
Rose nodded. The cold penetrated her bones. Her lower jaw sagged, and she couldn’t stop her teeth chattering.
Lord Farleigh lifted Jacob onto the grass verge. “Turn him on to his side, Alice, and pat his back.” He turned to Rose. “Wait, I’m coming for you.” He reached her in seconds. “Good God, your lips are blue. Drape your arms around my neck, and I’ll pull you to the bank.”
She hesitated but then wrapped her trembling arms around him. Christian slid one strong arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to his body as he waded through the water. Once at the edge, he hoisted her up as though she were a small child, too.
It took a few attempts for her to stand, the weight of her dress made every movement cumbersome. She turned to Christian and held out her hand. “Let me help you up.”
His wet hand slipped into hers, palm to palm. Their eyes locked and with a heave, she hauled him out.
Without saying a word, Christian rushed to Jacob’s side and dropped to his knees on the grass. “Jacob? Can you hear me? Say something.”
Jacob turned his head. His pallid countenance conveyed shock, perhaps something else, too. Indeed, when the boy finally held Christian’s gaze, his eyes swam with remorse. “Yes, Papa. I … I’m fine. But what about Rose?”
Rose knelt at Jacob’s side and picked green algae from his hair. “It will take a little more than a dunking in the lake to frighten me away.” She made light of the situation yet her lips quivered, and her hand shook as she placed it on Jacob’s chest.
Lord Farleigh placed a gentle hand on her lower back. Rose wasn’t sure what to make of the gesture, but it brought comfort all the same.
“We should get back to the house before we all catch a chill.” Lord Farleigh touched his son’s brow. “Can you walk or should I carry you?”
Alice suddenly burst into tears. “I hate the lake.”
“That’s because you’re the only one who isn’t wet,” Rose said, attempting to soothe the child. She stood, scooped Alice into her arms and cuddled her close. “Now we’re all the same.”
A weak chuckle escaped from Alice’s lips.
“I can walk, Papa.” Jacob sat up. Water trickled from his hair and down his cheek.
Lord Farleigh helped his son to his feet. “I’ll send someone to collect the basket.”
They walked back to the house in silence but for the water squelching in their boots. Lord Farleigh held Jacob’s hand while Rose clutched Alice’s tiny fingers. The heaviness in the air spoke of a range of emotions: sorrow, remorse, regret. Lord Farleigh’s arm brushed against hers numerous times, though he did not glance in her direction but kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead.
As they traipsed across the field, their hands touched. They could have attributed the discreet movement to their unsteady gait. But then his little finger hooked around hers, and they continued on their way.
Once back at Everleigh, the house erupted into chaos. Mrs Hibbet organised warm baths for them all. Lord Farleigh sent for Dr Taylor, eager to know that Jacob would suffer no lasting effects from swallowing so much water.
Rose sat on her bed for half an hour, brushing her hair, her mind a jumbled mess of emotions. Nicole was constantly in her thoughts. Jacob worried her. If his malicious pranks continued, someone could get hurt. And what of the intense attraction she felt towards Lord Farleigh? How ironic that a man with the name Knight was the one in need of saving.
A knock on the door disturbed her reverie, and Mrs Hibbet opened it a fraction and popped her head around the jamb.
“His lordship would like to see you in his study once you feel able.” Mrs Hibbet glanced at the brown bottle on the side table. “Perhaps you should drink the tonic Dr Taylor left for you. When the cold seeps into your bones, there’s bound to be repercussions.”
Rose refused to drink anything without knowing its contents. And if the potion worked wonders why were the servants still ill? One had to question the doctor’s competence. Perhaps he charged for his visits and was in dire need of funds. He wouldn’t be the first man to maintain a professional facade whilst suffering from a gambling addiction.
“A nip of brandy works better than any tonic I’ve ever taken.”
Mrs Hibbet studied Rose’s short locks. “His lordship knows that Jacob cut your hair. The child confes
sed to the crime.”
Rose came to her feet. “Then I had best speak to Lord Farleigh. To punish Jacob will only make matters worse.”
Mrs Hibbet opened the door fully. An affectionate smile lit up her face. “I told the master the Lord sent us an angel in our time of great need. Happen I was right.”
Rose knocked gently on the study door. Lord Farleigh called for her to enter. He sat behind his desk in dry clothes although his dark hair curled at the nape where the ends were still damp. Jacob sat in the chair opposite, rocking back and forth and nibbling his bottom lip.
“Ah, Rose.” Forgetting himself, Lord Farleigh stood and inclined his head. Even as a governess, he treated her more like a lady than any gentleman of her acquaintance ever had. “Please take a seat. After the incident at the lake, I believe a frank discussion is long overdue.”
“Of course.” She sat in the seat next to Jacob, reached over and squeezed the boy’s hand. “I trust you feel recovered and Dr Taylor has assured your father there’s no harm done?”
Lord Farleigh cleared his throat. “Dr Taylor will be with us presently. In the meantime, my son has something to say.” He nodded when the boy failed to speak. “Jacob.”
Jacob turned to face her but stared absently at a point beyond her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rose, for cutting your hair.” He bowed his head as a sad sigh breezed from his lips.
While she pitied the child, she couldn’t lie to him. After what he’d done at the lake, to say nothing was as good as condoning his unconscionable behaviour.
“You hurt me,” she said softly. The words brought a tightening in her throat. If her father were here, she would say the same to him, too. “You took something from me without my consent. Why would you do that when I have been nothing but kind to you?”
Jacob shrugged.
“Don’t you like me being here? Is that it?” Rose pressed him further.
Jacob finally met her gaze. “I do like you.”
“Then you have an odd way of showing it. I could have drowned in the lake.” When reinforcing a point, one had to be dramatic. “Had the water been a few feet deeper I might not be sitting here.”
Lord Farleigh sat forward. “The lake? Jacob told me what he did to your hair.” He shot the boy a hard stare. “I thought you’d slipped and fallen in during our game.”
Rose lifted her chin. “I did fall in, with a little nudge from Jacob.”
Lord Farleigh jumped to his feet and slammed his palms on the desk. “Is this true? For all the saints, tell me Rose is mistaken.”
At that, the boy burst into tears. He nodded. Then his shoulders shook as uncontrollable sobs wracked his body, and he huddled into a tight ball in the chair.
Lord Farleigh marched around the desk. “Why would you deliberately—”
Rose raised her hand to silence him and surprisingly he obeyed. She knelt on the floor in front of the chair and placed her hand on Jacob’s back. “Were you trying to get rid of me? Do you want me to leave? You need only say the words.”
Lord Farleigh inhaled sharply.
“Tell me why, Jacob?” Rose continued. “I can fetch my cloak and leave here within the hour if it will ease your suffering.”
Jacob looked up, his white face all red and blotchy. “D-don’t go, Rose. Everyone leaves us.” He thrust forward and flung his arms around her neck with such force she almost toppled back.
Lord Farleigh put his hand on her shoulder to help steady her balance. As always, his touch roused a heat in her belly that spread through her like fire in a hay barn.
Rose kissed Jacob on the temple, eased his arms from around her neck and clasped them tightly. “You must talk to me, talk to us. What do you mean everyone leaves?”
“He knows I would never leave him.” Lord Farleigh’s defensive tone held a wealth of pain. “Does this have something to do with your mama?”
Jacob fell silent.
“The only way to solve the problem is to talk about it.” Rose squeezed Jacob’s hands. “Some things make me sad when I think about my father.”
“But your father wasn’t mean,” Jacob blurted.
“Oh, he was.” It had taken years before her father’s barbed words failed to penetrate. “I’ve never known anyone be so cruel.”
The large comforting hand on her shoulder rubbed gently back and forth.
“Mama didn’t want us.”
“That’s not true.” Lord Farleigh came to his wife’s defence. “An illness of the mind is a terrible thing to live with. A person struggles to understand what is real and what is not.” He sucked in a breath. “But that does not explain why you would hurt Rose.”
Jacob’s head shot up. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her. It was a test.”
Lord Farleigh’s hand slipped from her shoulder. “A test?”
“When you care about someone you forgive them. That’s what Reverend Wilmslow says.”
Rose breathed a sigh of relief. It all made sense now. “Then you know that I do care, else I would have left this house within five minutes of waking this morning.” The comment left her lips before her mind had time to process what she’d said. She truly did care. Was it possible to form emotional attachments in two days? “Everyone knows a woman’s glory is her long hair.”
Lord Farleigh’s breath breezed past her ear as he leant forward and whispered, “I’m afraid I would have to disagree with the last statement.”
While her stomach performed a somersault, she tried to focus on Jacob. “I’m not going anywhere for the time being. But know that when the time comes to leave, my decision will have no bearing on my feelings for you and Alice.”
Jacob pursed his lips and nodded. “Everyone’s happy now you’re here.”
Rose put her hand on her chest. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her, and she couldn’t help but draw the child into an embrace.
“You’re not to blame for your mother’s failings,” Lord Farleigh suddenly said. “Perhaps none of us are.”
“But I … I stole from her.” Another sob caught in the child’s throat. “She said she knew it was me and that if I didn’t give her what she wanted she’d leave and never come … never come back.”
A suffocating silence filled the air.
“She was not herself when she said those things.” Lord Farleigh knelt down at Rose’s side. “What did you take? Trinkets? Tokens to remind you of your mother?”
“No.” Jacob shook his head and pressed his lips together firmly
“Then what did you take that would see her fly into such a rage?”
Jacob shrugged.
“You’ll tell me now.” Lord Farleigh stood, the sharp edge to his voice revealed frustration, not anger.
“I can’t. You’ll be cross.”
“Can you tell me?” Rose pressed the child.
Keeping secrets only caused guilt to fester inside. She glanced up at Lord Farleigh’s handsome countenance. Perhaps she should tell him the truth about her situation, too. But no doubt his sense of honour would prevail, and he’d be obliged to offer marriage after sleeping under the same roof as an earl’s virgin daughter.
“This is ridiculous.” Lord Farleigh threw his hands in the air. “You were barely six years old when your mother died. Whatever it is you’ve taken, no one is angry with you, Jacob.”
What reason did he have for keeping the secret? What was so terrible that he couldn’t tell his father?
Rose stood. “Does Alice know you stole things from your mother?” Manipulating minors was beneath her, but for the boy’s well-being, they had to discover the truth. “Does she know your mother threatened to leave?”
Jacob’s eyes widened. “No.” Panic infused his tone. “Don’t tell Alice.”
“What else can we do when you refuse to offer an explanation?” Lord Farleigh said.
“Alice will want to read the letters.” Jacob gasped and covered his mouth with his hand.
“Letters?” Lord Farleigh straightened. “What letters?”
>
The boy hit his leg with his fist. “I can’t give them to you. You can’t see them.”
Something Jacob said earlier flashed into her mind. The servants gossiped about his mother being a cheat. What if the letters contained information that might hurt his father?
Rose turned to Lord Farleigh. “With your permission, I’d like to take Jacob to his room. Let me speak to him in a place he feels at ease.”
“God damn,” he muttered under his breath. “What sort of man has no control over his children?” The green eyes that she’d seen sparkle with amusement were dull with pain. “You must think me weak and foolish.”
Weakness was not a trait she associated with Christian Knight. Just thinking his name sent a shiver from her throat to her belly.
“Loving your children and trying to protect them does not make you weak,” Rose whispered. “Not in my eyes.”
He studied her face, his gaze falling to her lips and moving up to her hair. “Who are you?” The words held an air of wonder.
She smiled. “Someone sent here to help you in your great time of need. It seems your troubles are far greater than my own.”
Throughout her life, no one had ever taken her seriously. People considered her too pretty to be intelligent, too petite to have strength, too blonde to be a Darby. Lord Cunningham had treated her as a trophy, something to prove he’d won the game. And yet Christian was different. He listened to her opinion as if she were a wise seer, sent from a foreign land with the knowledge others only dreamed of possessing.
“Take Jacob upstairs.” Lord Farleigh’s voice broke her reverie. “Return here tonight after dinner. There are other things you should know. Things upon which I would seek your counsel.”
Rose inclined her head gracefully although her heart pounded against her ribs with the force of a battering ram. The more time she spent in his company, the more her obsession for him grew.
She took Jacob’s hand and brought him to his feet. “I may have news of my own when we reconvene.”
“I’m sorry, Papa.” Jacob’s head fell forward, his chin touching his chest.