by Em Taylor
“I shall go down and see if I can get Lang to arrange for tea and something to eat to be brought up for you. Perhaps Whitsnow has brought the rest of the servants back from the manor house by now.”
“Lord Whitsnow?” But he had already started walking down the hall. He needed to calm himself and he would find out why she sounded so excited at the sound of Whitsnow’s name once he returned, after speaking to the butler.
It took him a few moments to find the man and to establish that his friend had not yet returned with the rest of the staff, but that he would arrange a tea tray with some light refreshments to be brought up to the bedchamber. The young lady would not want anything too heavy if she was unwell, the butler insisted. Jason waved him away and returned upstairs to his charges.
He had come to Cumberland for a rest and a change of scenery. Well, he supposed he had certainly got that.
The woman had the baby on the bed and had his gown lifted up, inspecting the covering Jason had put over his lower half.
“What on earth is this?”
“It was to prevent any mishaps of a needing to visit the necessary nature,” Jason said, unsure exactly how to put it in front of a lady. He did not usually speak of bodily functions with the women he bedded and he rarely spoke to them outside of that sphere except to discuss the weather and other mundane topics at social events.
She lifted her hand to her mouth and suppressed a laugh.
“What exactly did you fashion it from?”
“A ripped-up nightshirt.”
“And the long piece of cloth holding it on?”
“A cravat.”
“Well Oscar, you may not have been breeched yet, but it appears you are a gentleman wearing a cravat,” she said, addressing her son. Jason folded his arms over his chest and scowled at her. He had done his best and all she could do was mock.
She looked up at him then and gave him a pitying look. “There are linens in my bag that you could have used.”
“Your bag was still out in the snow. I had to bring you and the babe to the house and then send a servant out for your bag and horse. Meanwhile your infant decided to smell the house out.”
She raised an eyebrow at that.
“Lord Rose-Reid does not care for your odour, Oscar. I note that you now smell of men’s cologne.”
“Aye, well he stunk of manure.”
“Why, did you drop him in a cowpat?”
“His own manure.” Jason was beginning to dislike this chit.
“Ah, I see.” Laughter tugged at the corners of her mouth. Jason rubbed his face. “You said something about Lord Whitsnow?”
“I did.” He was giving nothing away. This chit might be trying to palm this child off as Whitsnow’s bastard for all Jason knew.
“I was trying to reach Lord Whitsnow’s estate. I wanted to see him.”
“For what purpose.”
“With all due respect, my lord, that is none of your concern.”
“It damned well is. He is my friend.”
“I am a friend of his sister.”
“And?”
“And I need to leave here and find him.”
“Why? So you can palm your bastard off as his?”
“My son is no bastard, my lord. He is…” She had obviously caught herself from saying too much in her indignation. “He is the son of his late father who died seven months before he was born.”
“I see. I apologise. I meant no offence. I am merely looking out for my friend.”
“From what I know of Lord Whitsnow, he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”
Jason gave her a wry smile. “Aye, that is so.”
“Will you show me the way to his manor? Tell me, where am I? You do not live in Cumberland. You are from Yorkshire, the southern end, are you not?”
“I am. Or at least that is where my father’s estate is situated. But you are currently on the Aelton estate, my lady. This is the dower house and Lord Whitsnow is due back soon. The manor house… well the roof collapsed just before Christmas and we all came to here to stay until the snow has cleared and the roof can be fixed.”
“Are you and Lord Whitsnow mollies?”
He nearly choked on his own tongue as he tried to comprehend her question but deny it at the same time.
“We are friends, my lady. Old school chums. I merely wanted to get out of London for the Christmas Season. Good God, are you always so forthright?”
“No, but then I do not usually wake up half-naked in bed with strange men, with a baby suckling at my breast.”
“I presumed the baby was yours.”
“Oh, he is.”
“Well then…”
“Well then indeed.”
“He had to be fed. I was making sure he got sustenance. I had no idea for how long you would be insensible.”
“And you had no maid who could help?”
“Whitsnow took the entire staff, save the butler and the cook, up to the manor. What for, God alone knows. I know I should apologise for partially undressing you and sitting with your baby attached to your breast, but my lady, I was in a bind and I knew not what else to do.”
A cough at the door made him look up and he turned to see Lang standing with a tray of tea. Behind him stood cook with sandwiches and cake. He groaned, motioned them in and went to stand at the window. If she was a damned lady, she would know how to direct servants. Jason was done.
Chapter 2
Honestly, of all the cheek! The man had just embarrassed her in front of servants and now he was ignoring both her and the servants and letting her tell them what to do.
“Please, just put them on that table at the fireplace.”
The butler did as he was told, followed by the woman, whom Sophia assumed was the cook. She thanked them, dismissed them and turned to her… Captor? Saviour? Whatever he was.
“Lord Rose-Reid, would you like some tea?”
“I would prefer brandy but I really cannot be bothered going downstairs for it so tea will suffice.” He threw himself down in the chair opposite. She glanced over at Oscar who was in the middle of the bed, his eyes beginning to droop. Then she looked at her companion after pouring his tea. “How do you take it?”
“Milk and one sugar.”
No manners it seemed.
She handed him the tea and poured her own, then took a sandwich and bit into it.
“Mmm!” She was hungry. He scowled more ferociously at her. Was Whitsnow down on his luck? Did this friend of his object to her eating his food?
“I have coin. I can pay for the food.” That made his frown lines deepen further.
“Whitsnow is hardly penniless. Those of us in the north of England did much better last summer than our friends down South. So much better that he helped your friend and her new husband out with food for their people.”
So he knew about Emily’s marriage, but did not recognise Sophia as Lord Beattie’s sister yet. Good.
“Then why do you scowl when I eat a sandwich as though you begrudge it, my lord?”
“I begrudge you nothing. What do you want with Whitsnow?”
“That is between me and the Earl.”
“I still do not trust you not to be trying to pass off your offspring as his bye blow.”
“My lord, my acquaintance with Lord Whitsnow is merely that—an acquaintance. I can hardly have produced his bye blow, now can I? Besides, my son has his own title and money. He does not need the paltry handouts that the bye blow of an earl might garner.”
The gentleman’s eyebrows rose at that little nugget of information. She had piqued his interest. She licked her lips and picked a cake from the plate cook had brought in. Lord Rose-Reid, made a grumbling sound and crossed his leg over his knee.
She dipped her finger in the icing and brought it to her lips, sucking her finger into her mouth. He licked his lips and closed his eyes.
Oh good God. He was aroused. She had seldom ever had that effect on her husband. They’d had a very perfunct
ory relationship in the bedchamber, but once or twice he had been overcome with passion for her and had tumbled her in the study. Actually, it had happened on precisely two occasions in their four-year marriage. Octavius had worn that almost pained expression then too. Her brother had that expression around Emily constantly and that was a little disconcerting.
She dropped the cake to her plate and placed it on the table, aware only too late that it would mean him seeing more of her décolletage than she would like.
“Your husband died, you said?”
She nodded. “Aye.”
“When?”
“February.”
He leaned on to his fingers, his face a mask of concentration. Sophia closed her eyes. He would be able to work out who she was. What if he was a friend of Mr Benson? She started to rise, to collect her son, run out into the snow if she had to.
“Rutherford’s widow?”
And then she spotted it. On the mantel lay a knife. She stood slowly, wiping imaginary crumbs from her dress and smiled at him, then licked her lips. His gaze was transfixed on her face. “Indeed.”
Her fingers found the weapon and curled around its handle. She slowly stepped back bringing the knife out in front of her.
Lord Rose-Reid got to his feet, his lips pursed and his gaze wary, as if trying to work out how to tame a skittish horse.
“What is the meaning of this, Lady Rutherford?”
“Nigel Benson, my husband’s nephew is in pursuit of us. He wants us dead. You say you are a friend of Lord Whitsnow, yet I have not seen him. You have me trapped in this house with these fellow captors. You may be in league with Benson for all I know.”
He nodded as if he understood her dilemma. The fact he did not laugh unsettled her.
“Everything I have told you is the truth, my lady. Robert, Lord Whitsnow shall be back soon. I know of Benson. He is a scoundrel. Why does he want you dead?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Oscar is the new Viscount. Had I had a girl or had the babe and I died in child bed, then he would have gained Octavius’ wealth and the estate and, of course, the title. But Oscar was male and he stands between Mr Benson and a title, land and wealth. Is that not what all men kill for? Power, wealth and coin?”
“Not all men kill, my lady. Many of us would stand in your defence and protect you.”
“Does it not wholly depend what is in it for you?”
“No, my lady. It does not. For some of us, it is a matter of what is right and what is wrong. That child is Viscount Rutherford and at present is too young to protect himself and his mother. So I am taking you under my protection for now.”
“How do I know I can trust you not to hand me over to Benson?”
“Benson is a snivelling little fool. I despise the creature. I have seen him on the edges of the ton, trying to ingratiate himself with mamas and young ladies. He is friends with the likes of Cedric Onslow and that set. No one pays them any attention.”
“I was hoping for Lord Whitsnow’s protection.”
“Well, my lady, looking at the weather, you shall have the protection of both of us until there is a thaw. Then I shall take you to my father’s estate. The Rutherford estate is close by, is it not?”
“Six miles away.”
“Aye, well, you are far too close to home.”
“I cannot travel with you, my lord. What will people think?”
“That Mr and Mrs Reid and their new babe are travelling to Yorkshire.”
“But I do not know you.”
“From what you said, you do not know Lord Whitsnow well either.”
“But I know his sister and she assures me he is an honourable gentleman, even if he is a bit of a beast to her. But my brother could be the same way me when I was younger too, so perhaps he is not too bad.”
“A bit of a beast, hmm?”
“Well, obviously I would not tell him that.”
“Obviously,” he said wryly. “Perhaps you may want to put the knife down and stop waving it at me. It is sweet that you think you could defend yourself against me, my lady, but I have defended myself against worse padfoots than you in the streets of London at night. I could disarm you in seconds.”
“No you could not.”
“Yes, I could. Now hand me the knife. There’s a good girl.”
“I am no girl,” she protested. His gaze did a slow meander up her body, resting for just a second too long on her décolletage. Sophia wondered if the fire had too many logs on it.
“You are definitely no girl, my lady. Now give me the knife before one of us gets hurt. I am a gentleman. You have my word you shall come to no harm.”
“And Oscar?”
“He is perfectly safe. He outranks me.”
She smothered a laugh.
“But he is a baby.”
“He still outranks me. I have honour. Just because your nephew by marriage is a scoundrel, does not mean all men are.”
She turned the knife so the blade was in her hand and offered him the handle. He took it gently, careful not to cut her. Then, surprisingly, he put it back up on the mantelpiece from where she had grabbed it.
He gestured for her to sit and she did so. He sat, his legs apart and his blue gaze resting on her as if he was looking at a very interesting specimen. When she glanced to the bed to check on her son, his gaze followed.
“He is asleep,” he observed.
“Babies sleep a lot,” she explained. She had a feeling that Lord Rose-Reid knew nothing about babies or children.
“Why?”
“Because they are babies. I know not why. It is just how they are. Baby animals sleep a lot too.”
“That is true. So, were you happily married?”
He had steepled his fingers in front of him and looked as though he was interested in the answer, rather than just making polite conversation. She lifted her chin defiantly.
“I was.”
“Rutherford was an old man.”
“Not so old.”
“Old enough.”
“Older than… you?”
“Yes. And much older than you.”
“He was interesting.”
“Is that how you would describe it?”
“Our marriage? Yes.”
“Yes, your marriage was what I was thinking of.”
She narrowed her eyes at him but he gave her a wide-eyed innocent expression.
Just then, the slam of the door being closed downstairs made her jump.
“Ah Whitsnow is home. Good-oh,” said Lord Rose-Reid. “Come, I shall introduce you.”
She snatched the baby up from the bed and was halfway down the stairs when she realised that she must look a terrible fright. She began to try to push curls back into her coiffure.
“Worry not, he shall see you and feel pity for you in your bedraggled state,” said her companion. She huffed out a noise of disgust and as he turned his head, she was sure she saw him smother a smile. He was baiting her. Well, she would not rise to it.
He led her into a small but beautiful drawing room where a rather austere looking gentleman was standing rubbing his hands next to the fire.
“Reid, the damned house is a wreck on the top floor. It will cost a bloody fortune to mend.” He turned around and saw Sophia standing there and his eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Where the Devil did you come from?”
Were all the gentlemen in England rude? Honestly.
“Rutherford Estate, my lord. I am Lady Rutherford. I came here to ask for your protection.”
“You did? Why?”
“Nigel Benson, my nephew by marriage is intent on killing my son, the new Viscount Rutherford. If my son dies, the title falls to him.”
“Not if he’s hanging by the neck from the gallows, it does not.”
Sophia shut her eyes and sent up a very short prayer for patience. Emily had been right. Her brother was a beast.
“My lord, you are in the privileged position to not only be titled but of the male gen
der. I am merely the widow of an old man with a title. Who do you think is going to listen to a hysterical female squawking about her husband’s nephew killing her son? Thousands of babes die in their mother’s arms every year. I have seen people grieving. They blame everyone. People would think I was blaming Nigel because I could not deal with my own grief. They would not think someone would really kill a child for a title. It would be too obvious. Yet, do you not see? It is the perfect crime.”
Whitsnow had listened to her diatribe with his lips pursed and his brow furrowed.
“That is not the most ridiculous theory I have ever heard,” said a voice from behind her.
“Nay, it is not,” agreed Whitsnow.
“He told me himself when he met me in the street in London just before the New Year.”
“I see. And where is Beattie?”
“London.”
“Why did you come here instead of remaining in Town where you were safe with your brother?”
“It did not feel safe. I did not think Mr Benson would follow me to Cumberland. Not with all the snow.”
“You miscalculated, my lady.”
“Thank you, my lord. I noticed when his carriage came thundering up my private road and I had to escape on horseback through the woods with my baby strapped to my torso.” She was getting a little short with Lord Whitsnow now and she needed to rein in her temper. It would not do to upset him. She needed his help.
“I like a woman with fire in her belly,” remarked Whitsnow, grinning.
“I thought you liked dark haired ladies,” growled Lord Rose-Reid. Whitsnow’s grin dissolved.
“Uh, yes, generally. And red-heads”
“So you just arrived at the dower house? Please, take a seat. I shall organise tea.”
“No, Lord Rose-Reid found me collapsed in the snow. He brought me here and… well, looked after the baby until I awoke.”
“You, Reid… You looked after a baby?”
“Well I would not have had to if you had not taken all the dashed servants to the manor house. Why did you not leave a couple of maids here?”