by Diane Gaston
‘No toys. No blocks to build with. No games or puzzles. No dolls or toy soldiers.’
He rubbed his neck. ‘Toys. How could I not think of that? We will remedy that first thing tomorrow.’
She nodded.
He gazed at her longer than was comfortable. ‘But, Anna, how do you fare?’ He extended his hand as if to touch her, but withdrew it again. ‘Was the trip too much for you?’
She must look a fright. Not that it mattered so very much. She could not bear to see admiration in his eyes.
‘I need rest, is all,’ she managed.
He still looked concerned. ‘I must return to Mr Parker. Will you be all right here? Will you ask the servants for anything you need?’
She nodded. ‘Goodnight, my lord.’ Her tone was more curt than she’d meant it to be.
She turned to leave, but he caught her arm. Instantly, her senses flared in response. She faced him and the yearning she’d worked so hard to conquer returned as strong as ever.
He must have felt it, too, because he held on to her arm and moved closer, but caught himself and released her.
‘I wish to apologise for Mr Parker’s rudeness to you,’ he said. ‘That was badly done of him.’
She touched her arm where he had held it. ‘I am a governess. I did not expect more from him.’
‘I do,’ he responded hotly. ‘In any event, you and I may dine together tomorrow.’
She inclined her head. ‘As you wish.’
He searched her face. ‘Anna,’ he whispered, his tone aching.
She looked away. ‘Goodnight, my lord,’ she murmured and hurried into her room.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning after breakfast, Brent took Anna and the children to Noah’s Ark, Mr Hamley’s toy store on High Holborn Street.
When they stepped inside, Dory gasped. ‘I have never seen anything so wonderful!’
Who could blame her? The toy store was a children’s wonderland. From floor to ceiling toys filled the shelves. One whole wall honoured the store’s name with its sets of Noah’s Arks of various sizes and designs. Another shelf was filled with dolls. Another section held spinning tops and balls and other outdoor toys.
Cal was silent, but as wide-eyed as his sister. Even Brent was not indifferent to the sight. At Cal’s age he would have been amazed that such toys existed. He remembered amusing himself for hours with the clay marbles his daideó made for him.
Where were they? he wondered. He’d hidden them from the old marquess and managed to bring them to England with him, but, over the years, he’d lost track of where he’d hidden them.
Brent glanced at Anna, but her expression was impossible to decipher. Was she thinking of the toys of her childhood as well? Surely Lord and Lady Lawton would have indulged their daughter with dolls and tea sets and all sorts of toys that little girls liked. Perhaps Anna only played with toys that were never to be hers.
Anna followed Dory over to the display of dolls, more than the child could count.
Some were made of painted wood. Others were made of wax and appeared so real Brent was certain they were about to open their mouths and demand to be fed. On the floor in front of the shelf was a huge doll’s house, complete with miniature furniture so detailed one could imagine shrinking and living there in great comfort. Anna crouched down with Dory and pointed to the small doll family, the mother and father in the parlour, the children in the nursery with their governess.
He walked over to where Dory and Anna stood.
‘Would you like a doll house, Dory?’ he asked.
The little girl sighed. ‘Oh, yes!’
‘Should I purchase it for her?’ he asked Anna. ‘Is it suitable?’
She glanced at him. ‘I believe she adores it.’
He would purchase it, if for no other reason than that Anna approved of it.
He turned. ‘Shopkeeper!’
The gentleman behind the counter signalled for a clerk to assist the woman he’d been helping. He quickly approached Lord Brentmore. ‘Your lordship? How may I serve you?’
It always surprised Brent how shopkeepers knew he was titled. Did the man spy the crest on his carriage through the shop window? Or was there some other clue?
‘I want this doll house and everything in it,’ he told the man. ‘Packed up and delivered to me by this afternoon, if possible.’
The shopkeeper’s face lit up. ‘With pleasure, sir!’ His expression turned shrewd. ‘There are other sets of dolls that may be added. Would you like to see them?’
‘What sorts of dolls?’ Dory piped up.
‘A set of servants, sir. A dog and cat.’
She looked beseechingly at her father and became the image of her mother.
Brent’s enjoyment was shaken.
‘Include all the dolls,’ he said, turning away so Dory—and Anna—would not see his mood so abruptly change.
He turned to Cal, who seemed frozen in place, looking from one display to another. The boy, like Brent at that age, had never seen such toys, Brent realised.
He put a hand on Cal’s shoulder. ‘What shall we find for you, Cal?’ He glanced to the shopkeeper. ‘What special toys do you have for my son?’
‘Well.’ The man wrung his hands in eagerness. ‘We’ve just received a set of tin soldiers from France. Made by Mignot. The finest I’ve ever seen. It is a Waterloo set, my lord.’
Brent felt Cal tremble with eagerness.
‘Let us see it,’ he said.
‘It is still in boxes in the back, my lord. Give me a moment.’ The man rushed off.
Brentmore looked at his son. ‘Do you want to see the Waterloo soldiers, Cal?’
Cal nodded.
Brent crouched down to his level. ‘Will you say it out loud for me?’ he asked gently.
‘Y-yes,’ Cal uttered.
Brent squeezed his shoulder and glanced towards Anna, who stared at them both.
Once she would have smiled at Cal’s effort.
‘What else should we buy?’ he asked her.
Anna looked around the shop. ‘Puzzles? Spinning tops?’
‘Choose whatever you like,’ Brent would purchase whatever she liked, heedless of cost.
The woman who’d been passed on to the clerk completed her purchases and left. They were the only customers in the shop.
The clerk approached them. ‘May I assist, sir?’
‘May we see that Noah’s Ark, please?’ Anna pointed to the largest wooden ark on one of the shelves.
‘This is quite good quality,’ the clerk said. ‘Finest wood and paint.’
The ark was cleverly designed to act as a box for the pairs of animals in the set, about fifty in number and including Noah and his wife.
Dory skipped over. ‘Oh, look at that Noah’s Ark!’
The shopkeeper emerged from the back room. ‘Here is a part of the Waterloo set, my lord.’ He placed a box on the counter and brought out a replica of a French soldier and a British dragoon. Cal touched it with a finger.
‘These are finely done. Very lifelike,’ Brent remarked.
‘Were you there, my lord?’ the shopkeeper asked.
Brent placed the tin soldier back in the man’s hand. ‘Not as a soldier.’ He’d been deep in clandestine work then, though, gathering information to send back to Wellington. He turned to Cal. ‘Should we buy it for you?’
‘Yes.’ The boy responded without hesitation. ‘Th-thank you.’
‘Send it with the doll’s house,’ Brent told the shopkeeper.
They walked around the shop and added spellicans and dominoes, battledore and shuttlecocks, dissected puzzles and spinning tops, skittles and a fine set of marbles, small gems compared to the ones Brent had loved.
The shopkeeper appeared to be in ecstasy as he made a tally of all the purchases.
Dory pulled on Brent’s coat. ‘Papa, may I please have a doll?’
Her request was tentative so that, this time, she was very unlike her mother.
He felt a
pang of tenderness towards her. ‘Of course you may.’
Anna went with her to the doll shelf where Dory chose, not any of the finely made porcelain or wax dolls, but a simple wooden one, with hair painted yellow, eyes blue, and wearing a simple frock covered with an apron.
‘Not one of the fancy ones, Dory?’ Brent asked her.
Dory shook her head. ‘This doll needs me.’ She looked up at him. ‘Please, Papa? This doll?’
He nodded, unable to speak. Perhaps she was not like Eunice at all.
Cal carried a toy sword over to Brent and asked just as tentatively as Dory had, ‘Papa? May I?’
Brent’s voice turned thick. ‘Yes, Cal. You may.’ He swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘What else do we need?’
Cal looked up at him. ‘Blocks?’
The clerk added a fine set of blocks to the pile of purchases and Brent asked that everything be delivered to Cavendish Square that very day. He allowed Cal to carry his toy sword with him and Dory held on to her doll as if her life depended on it.
Anna glanced at him and he fancied she felt as he did: that these children deserved this indulgence. They’d been nearly as deprived as he until she came into their lives.
‘Do you approve?’ he asked her.
Her eyes were warm. ‘Very much,’ she said.
* * *
Brent felt that erotic pull between them, even in the middle of the toy store. Good God. He needed more distraction.
When they left the toy store and climbed into the carriage again, he instructed the coachman to take them to Berkeley Square.
‘How would you like some ices?’ he asked the children. ‘I feel a great need for something sweet.’
Cal gave him a puzzled look.
‘What are ices?’ Dory asked.
These children had never tasted ices? Brent’s guilt rushed back.
Anna explained, ‘Ices are sweet and cold and delicious treats.’
Gunter’s Confectionery on Berkeley Square was one of the few places that a gentleman might properly escort an unmarried woman. A marquess, his children and their governess would raise no one’s eyebrows.
Brent instructed the coachman to pick them up in a half-hour. Dory carried her doll and Cal his sword, both promising not to disturb anything with them.
As soon as they opened the door, the scent of sugar, spice and fruit enveloped them. The shop was filled with display cases of marzipan made in the shapes of colourful fruits.
‘Oh, look!’ cried Dory, peering into the cases. ‘What are they?’
‘They are sweets,’ Anna explained.
Dory looked at her father. ‘May we buy some? They are so pretty!’
‘Yes, we may.’ He gave her a serious look. ‘But it is for a special treat. Not for all the time.’
She nodded solemnly.
He glanced at Anna and wondered how often she’d had sweets like this. Had Lord and Lady Lawton favoured her in even that small way or had she been forced to watch her half-sister eat them alone?
He ordered pistachio ices for all of them, including Anna, and a box of the marzipan.
As Dory and Cal quietly examined every confection in the cases, Brent leaned over to Anna. ‘It pains me how much of childhood they’ve never seen. I want to make it up to them all at once.’
She looked up at him, her lovely blue eyes filled with understanding. ‘You are doing very well, my lord.’
To his surprise she touched his arm, a light, fleeting touch, but one that he felt deep within him.
Lawd, he wanted to take away all her suffering, as well, but he had caused part of the sadness that now wrapped around her like a cloak.
The Gunter’s waiter bowed and handed him the box of sweets. ‘If your lordship wishes, you may wait in the Square and I will bring your ices as soon as they are ready.’
Anna took the box. ‘I will carry it, my lord.’
Brent called to the children, ‘Come. Let’s wait outside.’
As they walked to the shop door, it opened and in walked the two people Brent most wished to delay encountering.
His cousin and Miss Rolfe.
‘Brent!’ His cousin Peter broke into a surprised grin. ‘You are in town!’
‘We arrived yesterday.’ He intended to send word to Peter and Lord Rolfe later this afternoon. He nodded to Miss Rolfe. ‘Good day, Miss Rolfe.’
‘Good day, Lord Brentmore.’ She appeared reticent and why should she not be? He’d left her abruptly and taxed his cousin to make his excuses.
Peter crouched down. ‘Do not tell me this is Calmount and Dorothea! They are so grown.’
Dory appeared willing to accept the attention of this new person, but Cal stepped back.
‘Yes.’ Brent was glad to turn his attention away from Miss Rolfe. ‘Children, this is my cousin, who last saw you when you were babies.’
‘At their christenings!’ Peter smiled at them.
Why had he not told Anna of Miss Rolfe?
He knew why. When he was with Anna, he wished to pretend Miss Rolfe did not exist.
‘Say “How do you do,” children,’ Anna told them.
Brent felt sick inside.
Dory curtsied and parroted, ‘How do you do.’
Cal nodded, but did not speak. Instead the boy looked as if he’d sensed his father’s discomfort.
Brent had no choice but to continue the introductions. ‘Peter. Miss Rolfe. May I present Miss Hill, the children’s governess.’ He turned to Anna. ‘This is my cousin, Mr Caine, and Miss Rolfe...’ he paused ‘...my fiancée.’
* * *
Anna felt as if she had no air to breathe, no control of her muscles.
She forced herself to curtsy. ‘How do you do, Mr Cain. Miss Rolfe.’ She quickly turned her attention to the children. ‘Come, let us go to the Square. Give your father a chance to visit.’
The children did not hesitate to accompany her. She hoped that Lord Brentmore’s...companions did not guess that she needed to flee.
From him.
They found a bench with a view of the teashop door and sat.
‘What is a fiancée?’ Dory asked, clutching her doll to her chest.
Anna should not be compelled to tell the children their father planned to remarry. ‘Oh, a special friend. I am certain your father can explain it better.’
Cal gave her a searching look, as if he knew her suffering.
She picked at the string that tied the box closed. ‘Shall we peek in the box and see what treats the waiter gave us?’
They complied, but Anna believed they were merely helping her to calm down.
Of course he should marry again. Widowed men remarried, especially if they carried a title and had only one son to inherit. He did not owe her any explanation of his private life. She was merely a governess, after all.
But could he not have told her of this fiancée before she showed him her heart and desire?
She glanced up and spied him crossing the road. The waiter—and his cousin and fiancée—followed him. He looked directly at her.
She closed the box and tied its string. ‘Your father is coming with the ices.’
‘I’m not hungry now,’ Dory said.
‘Well—’ Anna spoke in a firm voice ‘—your father has been very generous today and we will be very polite and eat what is offered to us. Can you agree?’
They both nodded.
Lord Brentmore’s gaze remain fixed on her until he was within a few feet of them, then he seemed to force a smile for the children. ‘Here are your ices.’
The children placed their toys on the bench and the waiter served them. They dutifully dipped their spoons in and had their first taste of ices.
‘This is delicious!’ Dory said too brightly.
Cal nodded.
Miss Rolfe and Mr Caine joined them, taking their own ices from the waiter’s tray.
Anna stood. ‘Miss Rolfe may sit here,’ she said quietly to Lord Brentmore.
‘Anna—’ he began.
&
nbsp; She did not give him a chance to say more. She walked behind the bench and stood by a tree as Miss Rolfe took her place.
A place that had never truly been Anna’s.
It seemed an eternity before the carriage returned. Anna let Lord Brentmore gather the children to leave. She joined them at the carriage while the children were climbing in.
The marquess extended a hand to assist her. She avoided looking at him. He gripped her hand. ‘Anna, I will not be accompanying you. My cousin wishes me to call upon Lord Rolfe.’ He gave her an entreating look. ‘I have been remiss...’
She finally looked at him directly, but she could not speak.
‘Please tell Davies I expect to return in time for dinner.’
She climbed inside.
‘Papa isn’t coming with us,’ Dory said.
Anna hugged her. ‘Yes, he told me. He is going to visit more friends. We will see him later.’
She talked about all the toys that would be delivered and what enjoyment would come from playing with them and, by the time they pulled up to the town-house door on Cavendish Square, some of the children’s excitement was restored.
Dory ran to show Eppy her doll and to tell her about all the toys her papa had purchased. Cal walked up the stairs with Anna, his sword gripped in his hand.
When they reached Anna’s door, he pulled on her hand.
She leaned down. ‘What is it, Cal?’
He lifted his sword. ‘I can protect you with my sword.’
She threw her arms around him and held him close. ‘Yes, you can, Cal.’
He looked so much like his father, it was as though his sword pierced her heart.
* * *
Lord Brentmore did not come home for dinner. He sent word of his absence at the last minute, when the table was already set. Rather than put the servants to more trouble, Anna dined alone at the big, unfamiliar table meant to seat at least a dozen people.
It merely made her mood more desolate.
All afternoon she had held her pain inside her and pretended nothing was amiss. Luckily the children had the toys to delight them. Anna tried to get caught up in their excitement as they unpacked the several crates that arrived. The crates stirred much curiosity. The footmen wished to see the Waterloo soldiers, and the maids were agog over the doll house.