A True Gentleman (Regency Love Book 2)

by M. A. Nichols

  “Ugh! Let me go!” he squealed.

  Her face felt aflame at that impulse. Locking it far away, deep in her mind, Tabby composed herself. “And where is Mrs. Bunting?”

  “We wanted to do it on our own,” answered Phillip.

  “Mrs. Bunting is getting a well-earned rest,” said Captain Ashbrook.

  “Ah,” said Tabby as she glanced at the mountain of dirty bowls and spoons and drips of batter coating the table and floor. Perhaps the poor woman was not going to get much of a rest in the end.

  Captain Ashbrook held a bowl in the crook of his arm. “I must admit you were right, Mrs. Russell. When you mentioned cooking, I couldn’t understand what you found so enjoyable about it, but it’s quite gratifying. It is an odd combination of exactness and instinct.”

  The smile he gave her unsettled Tabby’s heart, and she took a breath, forcing her mind away from thoughts best left alone. “Well, I’m certain you’ve been having fun, Phillip, but we need to go into town to purchase some things. I am afraid you shan’t be able to stay until your madeleines are done.”

  Phillip’s smile died an instant death, his eyes getting big and watery. “But Mama, I want to stay.”

  “Dearest, that isn’t possible,” said Tabby, pulling a mixing spoon from his hand.

  “Mama…”

  “He can stay if you wish,” said Captain Ashbrook.

  Phillip’s spirits lightened at that, and he nodded his head, reaching for the spoon. She moved it out of his reach.

  “That is not the best idea,” said Tabby.

  “But you shan’t be long,” insisted the captain. “You can take Mina’s carriage and return in a trice. Surely, not having Phillip along will make the errands go quicker, and we can have fresh madeleines ready for you when you return.”

  Staring at the lumpy mixture in the captain’s bowl, Tabby was certain that whatever came out of the oven would not be appetizing.

  “I hadn’t planned on taking the carriage,” said Tabby. “And I do not wish to impose.”

  “Please, Mama.” Phillip clasped his hands, his eyes echoing that plea.

  “Your errands are part of your duties, so it is no stretch to think it proper for you to use the carriage for them.” Captain Ashbrook set down the bowl, leaning towards Tabby. “And having your son around is not an imposition.” His tone dropped into a lull, his eyes warming in a way that made Tabby wonder what was going on in the man’s head. If it weren’t for the fact that she was married, she would suspect that he harbored romantic feelings for her, but Captain Ashbrook was too honorable a gentleman to make advances towards another man’s wife.

  “I would hate to spoil your fun,” said Tabby when she regained the ability to speak.

  Phillip beamed, yanking the mixing spoon from her hand and reaching for the bowl of batter.

  “Belay that,” said the captain, pulling the bowl out of Phillip’s reach. “The recipe says to be careful how much we mix it.” Motioning for Phillip to draw closer, the man wrapped one arm around the boy, allowing him to grip the spoon already in the bowl. “Now, slowly.”

  Phillip wrapped his fingers around the handle and looked at Captain Ashbrook with stark admiration, and it brought a shine of tears to Tabby’s eyes. The child was so desperate for such attention and seeing the captain heaping it on her son fractured her resolve.

  “Go. We shall be fine,” he mouthed to her as she watched them.

  They may be fine, but Tabby was anything but and could only hope that she would receive a quick response to her inquiry for a new position. Tabby’s heart was not strong enough to be battered about in such a fashion.

  ***

  “And done,” said Graham as he closed the oven door. He hoped they turned out, but at that point, a successful bake was secondary to the joy of being allowed time alone with Phillip. Though part of him had originally reached out to the boy for Tabby’s sake, Phillip had quickly wormed his way into Graham’s heart. It was hard not to adore a child that was so like his mama; the thoughtful lad stood beside him, holding his cane so that Graham could take it the moment his good hand was free.

  “In a few minutes, our first batch should be done,” he said. “Perhaps we should get some air until then.” Graham certainly needed some. It made sense that the large oven would keep the kitchen warm, but the air was stifling, and after only an hour, he was ready to retreat. He wondered how Mrs. Bunting managed it all day long.

  Graham took his cane from the boy, and Phillip took his right hand, making Graham wince at the twinge his muscles gave as the boy squeezed it. Regardless of the pain, Graham was not about to push the child away for it brought him far more joy than hurt.

  Hobbling along, they moved to the back door. The garden was lovely, though the blooms were fading with the end of summer. Taking a deep breath of air, Graham could smell that fall was coming. The familiarity of that scent startled him. It had been a long time since he had been ashore during that shift from summer to fall, yet he recognized the subtle undertones wafting on the breeze that told him the change was coming.

  With that came memories of autumns long past. Ones filled with harvest festivals and apple cider, dancing and games. Each merry possibility filled Graham with anticipation. As a child, he had loved the season and all the holiday festivities that quickly followed it. He had not thought about such things in many years as his time at sea had not allowed him to partake in all the revelries.

  Phillip led him over to the garden table, and Graham sat as another memory struck him. He had not thought of his first year at sea in ages. It was not the most pleasant of times in his life, and thus had been buried in the deep recesses of his mind, but Graham remembered the longing. The homesickness. The misery. The navy had been his choice, but the transition to the sea life had not been pleasant. There had been many nights when Graham had lain awake at night, wishing he were home. Graham huffed at the realization that he was feeling such things once more but in reverse. Life was a strange journey, indeed.

  As Graham was lost in thought, Phillip leapt onto his lap, dropping his weight directly onto Graham’s wounds. Little knees and elbows jabbed in all the worst spots, making Graham bellow in pain. It ripped from him, shoving past all common sense and decorum as the agony twisted his muscles. Words came to his mind, but Graham had just enough control to keep them locked away, though he wanted to curse until every last bit of his misery was gone.

  Breathing through it, Graham waited until the throbbing reached a bearable level. But when he opened his eyes, the boy was gone.

  “Phillip?” Graham struggled to keep his voice calm and steady. He winced as he twisted in his seat and then caught sight of him hiding in the bushes.

  “Come here,” he prompted, but the child did not move.

  Graham wanted to go to him, but he knew better than to try his leg after such a shock. “Phillip, please.”

  Little eyes peeked at him through the foliage, and Graham’s heart caught at the sight of tears.

  “I am not angry,” he said. That was not the entire truth. Graham had been plenty angry and he certainly wished the child had been more careful, but Graham knew better than to lay blame where it did not belong. Phillip had not meant any harm and was too young to understand. Even if a childish part of him wished to unleash his residual fury at the boy.

  Phillip watched him for a moment, and Graham focused on looking far calmer than he felt. The boy inched out of the shrubbery, inching closer.

  “I’m sorry,” Phillip whispered, his voice hitching with tears.

  “It was an accident,” Graham replied, reaching for the boy and helping him to climb onto the good side of his lap. Phillip’s little arms went around his neck, and Graham felt tears against his neck.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “And I apologize for shouting,” said Graham, rubbing a hand along the boy’s back. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You startled me is all.”

  Phillip would not look at Graham, but he felt the child n
od. “People yell too much. I don’t like it.”

  The tone of that simple statement sent chills through Graham, and he wanted to clutch the boy tighter. “Do people often yell at you?”

  Another nod.

  “Who?” Graham asked the question, though he feared he knew the answer.

  Leaning away, Phillip wiped at his eyes. “Papa.”

  Graham stifled another surge of anger at the thought of anyone shouting as such a sweet child. Especially the boy’s own father. “Was he often angry?”

  Phillip’s chin quivered, his face crumpling, and he grabbed Graham around the neck once again, burrowing in as though he could hide from the memories. And then there was another little nod of his head.

  “I make too much blasted noise,” he said with a quiver in his voice.

  Hearing the curse come from Phillip’s little voice shook Graham, but he suspected the lad was quoting his father, and it disgusted him. He now understood why Tabby despised foul language, for hearing it repeated thusly was worse than what Graham’s coarsest sailors had let loose. Though he’d made progress with improving his language, this cemented his determination to never let such words leave his lips again. Graham refused to teach such crude behavior and language to innocents.

  “That is not true,” said Graham. “You are never too noisy here.”

  Phillip sat upright again to look Graham in the eyes. “Truly?”

  The hope in that one word twisted Graham’s heart in two. Phillip was too young to worry about such things. He was a child and deserved to live as a child ought, and Graham found himself hating the man who had mistreated this sweet boy. The more he heard about Mr. Russell, the more Graham was certain he had been no gentleman—regardless of his social status.

  Graham wished he could let things lie, but a question niggled at him, refusing to allow him to let the moment pass. “Did your papa ever hurt you?”

  His little brow wrinkled, and he gave Graham a shake of his head, allowing Graham to breathe a sigh of relief. He had seen enough captains who thought extensive corporal punishment the only way to instill obedience, and Graham knew that such attitudes were not exclusive to those at sea. It was not something he would wish for little Phillip.

  “What about your mama? Did he hurt her?” Graham hated to voice the concern aloud, but he had to know.

  Phillip shook his head again.

  There were so many things Graham wished to ask, but his guilt at digging into Tabby’s secrets kept him from doing so. With time, he would be able to ask her himself, but at present, questioning her son would be an invasion and was best left alone.

  Hearing what little he had, Graham felt his resolve crystalize, and he knew that whatever else he did in this life, he would make certain Tabby and Phillip had a happy home and a comfortable life. It was a silent vow made only to himself, but Graham knew he would do everything to keep it.

  Phillip relaxed, leaning into him, and Graham’s arm pulled him tighter. How he adored this little boy. In such a short time, the lad had wrapped him so firmly around his finger that Graham doubted he would ever be free. Not that he wanted to. It was too late for Graham Ashbrook. He could not explain how he had gotten himself so thoroughly tangled in such a short time, but his heart was lost to this child and his beguiling mother.

  “Do you think the maddylines are done?” Phillip asked, all thoughts of the previous conversation gone.

  Graham looked at his pocket watch. “Just about.”

  ***

  Gladwell House had never seemed very close to the heart of Bristow, but then again, Tabby had never taken a carriage into town, either. As much as she hated the idea of being so informal with the Kingsleys, it was a blessing to be able to travel there and back in so little a time, which would allow her a minute to peruse the lending library shelves. Tabby had already selected a few titles for Captain Ashbrook, but there were a few others Tabby was curious about. Running her fingers along the spines, she scoured the bookshelves, but her search was fruitless.

  Taking her books to the counter, she greeted Mr. Sims. He gave her a nod and began noting her selections in his ledger without another word.

  “And how are you and Mrs. Sims?” she asked.

  “We are in good health.”

  Tabby blinked at the abrupt answer. In all the other time she had been here, the man had never been reticent, yet Tabby could not pull more than a few short words from him. Perhaps if he were busy, she would understand the behavior, but there were only two other ladies in the shop, and they were whispering in the corner.

  “Is there any chance you will be getting The Excursion? I have been meaning to read it but have not seen it here.”

  “No.” The reply was terse, and the man refused to glance from his ledger.

  “It is indecent,” came a harsh whisper from one of the ladies. “Positively immoral!”

  Tabby turned to look at them, and when she caught their eye, the ladies blushed and put their heads closer together, though they continued to speak loud enough for Tabby to hear.

  “I hear they have become quite close,” said the other with a tone that announced to anyone listening that they were speaking of a scandal.

  “Thrown together in such a manner, it is no wonder,” said the first. “And with such a husband…”

  “But to behave in such a wanton manner,” gasped the second.

  Mr. Sims deigned to look at Tabby, and she saw the accusation in his eyes. The whispered conversation became clearer when the man slid the books across the counter to her, as though touching her would taint him. Tabby’s face blazed, her mouth opening as though to explain, but she had no words to offer. Her head grew light, and Tabby escaped the confines of the shop.

  The bright sun blinded her for a moment, and Tabby felt adrift, unsure of where she was headed or what she was doing. Those caustic words bounced around her thoughts, her shame giving strength to their accusations. She may not be explicitly guilty of the offenses leveled at her, but in her heart, Tabby knew she had been unfaithful. Tabby yearned for Graham, not her husband. She cringed. Captain Ashbrook. Not Graham.

  Stumbling along the road, she hurried to the carriage.

  “Tabby!”

  Halting, she closed her eyes at the sound of her husband’s voice, dreading that he was there to see her in such agitation. His hand clamped around her arm, jerking her into an alley. Tabby tried to wrench free, but his fingers dug into her flesh.

  “So, you’ve resurfaced,” he said, spittle flicking across Tabby’s cheek.

  “I have resurfaced?” she said, throwing her weight to yank her arm, but he just held her tighter. “Where have you been? Phillip was abandoned at home, alone, and you were nowhere to be found.”

  “My business is my own,” he said, though his bloodshot eyes told her exactly what his business had been. “I need money.”

  Tabby jerked at her arm again. “You cannot be serious.”

  “You have enough to spare, or is Captain Ashbrook not generous with his lady-birds?”

  Tabby’s vision blurred, and her chin wobbled. “You think so ill of me?”

  “I don’t care who you lift your skirts for,” he growled, and more spittle flew into her face. “Service every man in Bristow, for all I care, but you better give me a bit of the profits.”

  The blood rushed from Tabby’s face, her mouth gaping. Her hand flew before she knew it was moving, striking Joshua’s cheek with a crack. He reared away, but his hand did not release her arm. Joshua blinked at her, as though the hit had knocked his senses straight again. The fire in his eyes faded and his face crumpled as he released his hold on her. Tabby clutched her books to her chest, wrapping her other arm around herself.

  “I apologize,” he said, his head dropping low. “I don’t know what came over me. I cannot…” his voice faltered. “I need money, Tabby.”

  “And Phillip needs to eat.”

  He nodded, his gaze remaining locked on the ground. The muscles in his jaw tensed. “Perhaps I s
hould come by Avebury Park and ask Mrs. Kingsley for a bit of help to tide us over. I know she is inordinately fond of you. Or I could speak to Captain Ashbrook directly.”

  Tabby tensed, and she moved to step around him, but he blocked her path.

  “I wish there were no need to be so harsh about it,” he said, reaching to touch her, but Tabby pulled away. “You do not understand the weighty matters I am dealing with. I need the money, and if you are unwilling to give it, I will have to take other steps.”

  Tabby dabbed at her gathering tears and tried to summon her strength to keep the tremors in her body from growing. There was nothing more to do. With a tug of her reticule, Tabby pulled out a few coins and dropped them in Joshua’s outstretched hand. He picked through each one, his lips tightening.

  “Isn’t there more?” He ran a hand through his mussed hair.

  “That’s all I have.”

  Joshua barked a curse and kicked the wall beside Tabby. She flinched, but the next moment he stormed away. Covering her mouth to hold back her cries, Tabby leaned against the bricks. The world around her tightened, making it difficult to breathe, but Tabby would not allow herself to crumble.

  Movement at the mouth of the alley reminded her that there were others in the streets of Bristow—others with wagging tongues—and Tabby had supplied enough fodder for the gossipmongers today. Gathering her residual strength, Tabby escaped to the waiting carriage, not stopping until she was safely ensconced inside. Only then did she allow the tears to trickle down her cheeks.

  Chapter 23

  “Mama! Are you watching?” Phillip shouted as the pony trotted past her. Tabby leaned against the fence, watching her son bounce around the stableyard. Phillip beamed and whooped, and though he nudged his mighty steed, the groom kept him at a walk.

  Tabby felt Captain Ashbrook approaching long before she heard his distinctive footsteps, and then he was standing there beside her, sharing her bit of the fence.