For the earl’s part, he was preoccupied with some oddity concerning the estate. He was confronted with the recurring problem of the holes, and as the days progressed he became more and more baffled as to how they got there. Upon awakening at dawn the previous day, his team of gardeners had reported yet another night of vandalism. He had spent that morning questioning his tenants, and examining the fresh holes.
Then this morning, he awoke to even more holes, this time encroaching into the stable yard and the herb garden. What now seemed to be a daily occurrence had everyone stymied. He had ridden to town to seek advice from the head constable.
After coming back from the village, while still in his dusty riding clothes, he knocked on Catherine’s door. He apologized for neglecting their walks and inquired as to whether she and Jonathan might be ready to join him in the dining room that evening. Catherine was immediately concerned, as he appeared tired, but gave him a shy smile and eagerly accepted his invitation to dine with him, knowing that his primary concern was to dine with Jonathan—his family.
In actuality, he was tired. He was in good spirits though, and anxious for their first shared meal as an impromptu family. The mystery of the holes confounded him, as each day another thirty or forty were being found in different places around the estate. But for now, he would stop worrying about the vandals and enjoy a nice meal with his son. Smiling to himself, he realized that he was looking forward to enjoying both Catherine’s and his son’s company.
He lifted each foot so his valet could help him remove his boots, and then stood to remove his dirty clothing in preparation for his bath. Catherine had seemed delighted to see him. It pleased him that he had seen genuine concern in her eyes at his near state of exhaustion; it pleased him greatly that she would care so much.
After his bath and a short restorative nap in his favorite chair in front of the fire, he went to check on both her and Jonathan, to see if they would soon be ready to head down to dinner.
He was thrilled to see her broad grin and anxious mannerisms as she gently handed over his son, then rushed about preparing proper clothing for both herself and for Jonathan.
“I hear dinner is always a formal event in manor houses such as this. Will my mauve skirt and lacy blouse do, or should I ask Mrs. Cockrell to have someone fetch that olive green dress back from the lost and left closet?” She held up both the blouse and her skirt against her slender form, modeling them with a dance-like sway in front of the beveled cheval mirror.
“The skirt and blouse will do nicely. And I imagine the blouse will have its advantages since the dress is not front opening,” he replied, reminding her of her purpose.
She had clearly forgotten the earl’s intent behind them having their “meals together.” She flushed to her blonde roots and rolled her eyes, then nodded and said, “Of course. How silly of me.”
He squinted his eyes, puzzled and thoughtful as he watched her move about the room. He couldn’t help wondering if she saw this event as more than it was. Could it be that she was also lonely and in need of a dinner companion to converse with? In either case, he found her adorable as she flounced about pulling hair ribbons from drawers and tucking errant strands of hair back into her none-too-tidy long braid.
The woman looked particularly lovely in casual hairstyles that let her mop of unruly flaxen hair have its wayward way. He smiled and realized that he was truly looking forward to having dinner with her as much as with Jonathan, if not more.
Jonathan, having spent the latter part of the afternoon with his grandmother and her maid in their wing, was still fidgety and clearly wanted to be with Catherine rather than with him right now. “I think he’s ready for his dinner,” he said as he laughed at her antics in front of the mirror. “And offhand, I would say he could not care less what he wears for his evening meal. Why don’t I take him downstairs so you can get ready?”
“No. He needs a fresh gown. It won’t take but a minute. We’ll both be ready and at the table by seven, I promise.”
“All right. I’ll go down and have some wine decanted. Can you join me in a glass?”
She frowned at him as she took Jonathan from his arms. “I do not know, Miss Madeline never said and I never thought to ask as I never drink it.”
“Well then, maybe you should not.”
“No. I suppose I shouldn’t. Cook will have milk for me anyway. The way she feeds me, I’m afraid I will soon outgrow all my new clothes.” She smiled up at him as he bent slightly and relinquished Jonathan into her arms. They were so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. Their eyes met and he saw her momentarily blink as if surprised by their nearness. Her eyes lowered to gaze at his lips. He breathed deeply as if to absorb her soft fragrance.
“You are lovely,” he whispered and seemed just about to kiss her when they both heard the sound of the door being pushed across the carpet. Both of them jumped back.
“Oh, there ya are,” Sadie said. She froze at the door when she saw the earl standing so close to Catherine. His hand was familiar and close to her breast as he cupped Jonathan’s head. Catherine’s sudden bloom of crimson to her cheeks more than gave them away.
“Cook says dinner is ready, milord,” she said with a small curtsey.
“Thank you, Sadie. We’ll be right down.”
To Catherine, he turned and said, “You’d better hurry and change or your dinner will get cold, and I will get a scold from Cook.”
“Yes,” she said, her face still warm with embarrassment.
“You sure I can’t take Jonathan?
She shook her head.
“No? Very well then.” He left the room and Sadie sauntered over to Catherine.
“Just what was that all about?” she inquired, with raised eyebrows and a too knowing smile.
“What do you mean?”
“His lordship . . . he had an odd look about him.”
“Odd? In what way?”
“Hungry.”
“Well of course he’s hungry, it’s dinnertime.” Trying to change the conversation, she thrust Jonathan into Sadie’s arms, “Can you help me with Jonathan? Let’s put on that sweet ivory gown with the little collar I embroidered yesterday.”
“Of course I’ll help you with Jonathan. But you and I know that the look the earl gave you was not one of a man hungry for food.”
Catherine sighed, knowing this was too rich, that Sadie would not let something like this go unanswered, “You won’t tell anyone we were about to kiss, will you? At least I think we were.”
“No,” Sadie said with a taunting smile and a tiny giggle. “We were all told by the earl himself that even if he was shaggin’ his Aunt Tilda on a table in the hall, we were not to bandy it about. I suppose an almost kiss should go completely unnoticed.”
Catherine’s eyes went wide. “What?” she laughed at the outlandish thought.
Sadie laughed heartily with her. “I’ll tell ya all about it later, right now ya’d better get yourself dressed or you’ll be late for dinner with the man who definitely almost kissed you.”
When Catherine came down the grand staircase, a footman carrying Jonathan preceding her, the earl thought her lovely and as fresh as a new white daisy. Her bright smile was contagious, as even the footman was grinning ear to ear as he turned and assisted her down the last few steps with his free hand. A surge of jealousy flared and momentarily caused Thorne’s lips to compress. Then he remembered how easily Catherine made friends and forgave the man his forwardness. Still, he didn’t tarry getting to the steps to relieve the footman of the burden of both his son, and his nursemaid.
Catherine laughed delightedly when she saw his “privacy wall.” In retrospect, it was a bit overdone, but then he had not known she would be so accepting of his proposition for her to nurse in his presence. But he was glad he had decided to use stone pavers instead of simply pili
ng up stacks of books. The masonry gave it permanency and he liked the idea that due to her situation, she was here permanently. Was it awful of him to be gladdened that she now had no husband, and that due to her son being still born, she had come into his life as his son’s nursemaid?
He helped her to her seat and placed Jonathan across her lap before taking his chair behind the wall and signaling for the meal to begin.
As the first course was placed in front of her, he saw her eyes widen in alarm.
“Is something amiss?”
“It is soup.”
“Yes, we often eat soup here at Merseyside. Especially when the weather is known to put a chill into one’s bones.”
“It will need to be removed. I could not possibly chance spilling this steaming liquid on Jonathan.” She was adamant and he immediately saw her point. Should the bowl tilt, his son would be scalded.
He stood and removed both her bowl and his to the opposite side of the table. “We will wait for them to cool. In future, I will ask for our soup to be served tepid.”
“Thank you. You probably think I am being foolish.”
He took her hand and impulsively stroked the back of it with his thumb, “No, I absolutely do not. I am not used to putting the safety of a child first, so I am eternally grateful that you do.” She shivered as he grazed her hand lightly, and he felt his groin inflame. This woman’s reaction to him reaffirmed his manhood in ways his wife never had.
She blushed and nervously tried to tug her hand back but he held it prisoner in his. “It must be the mothering instinct,” she murmured, clearly flustered.
He enjoyed watching her squirm as he held tight to her hand. When he heard footsteps approaching the serving door, he abruptly released it.
“Please ask Cook to send in the second course, as we are allowing the soup to cool first.”
“Certainly milord.”
Within a matter of minutes, both the second and main courses were served and as Catherine put Jonathan to her breast, the earl took it upon himself to intercept her plate from Cook so he could cut her meat, potatoes and vegetables into bite-sized portions so she would be able to eat with one hand.
“So, I hear there were more holes today,” Catherine ventured.
“Twenty-six. And thirty-two in the village as well.”
“Oh, are the vandals moving on?”
“According to the vicar and the chief constable, they may be. The chapel green was decimated last night.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
The earl shook his head. “It puzzles the lot of us. And no one can figure out why we cannot catch the buggers. It takes quite a bit of time to dig thirty or more holes a foot or more wide, yet the men standing guard never hear a sound or see a thing until the damage is done.”
“Do you think someone is searching for something?” she asked.
“Like buried treasure?” he asked with a smirk.
“Well, any city close to a port can be a smuggler’s haven of sorts.”
“True, true,” he murmured as he thoughtfully chewed his corned beef. She was terribly bright, no one had thought of that.
Then he almost choked on the meat when he watched her stand, and holding Jonathan tight to her breast, she reached over the low wall for her cooled bowl of soup. Jonathan chose that exact moment to turn his head away and arch from her body, leaving a fair portion of the tops of both breasts exposed. She retook her seat, the baby in the crook of one arm, the bowl of soup in the other hand, as if nothing untoward had happened.
“You could have asked,” he said when he was finally able to swallow to and then to speak.
“I was trying to save you the trouble.”
“And kill me in the process. Do you not ken that I am a man?”
“I thought Jonathan’s body would shield mine. I did not expect him to pull away as he did. I am shamed as I’m sure you are.”
“Catherine, I am not shamed. There is no response without lurid intent in my mind right now that I can bring to the forefront. You are devastatingly arousing.”
She drew in a deep breath and forced her eyes to his before lowering them awkwardly to her plate. There was silence for several minutes while the three of them resumed eating.
Catherine placed her fork on the table and said plainly, “This was perhaps not the best idea.”
He thought for a moment, and then made the statement that would change their lives. “I find you intensely exciting, and the thought that you are nursing my son in my presence, makes it doubly so. So no, perhaps it wasn’t. But I am not altering it. I desire to watch you feed him, and now I expect I will desire you even more because of it. As I said before, I am a man, one with great needs, needs I have been curbing for years. I see no reason why I shouldn’t be able to continue to stifle them if they concern you. If you object to my attraction and would rather dine alone, I would certainly understand.”
“I . . . um . . . I do not object. I have those same needs. Er . . . the ones that need curbing.”
His eyes blinked wide and slowly his lips drew into a very pleased smile. Then with great effort, he moved his gaze away from hers. After staring unseeingly at the pattern on the wallpaper behind her for a few silent moments, he said, “Then somehow we’ll muddle through I expect, and take care of those . . . desires.”
After many more quiet moments broken only by the sounds of silver scraping against china, Jonathan sucking vigorously, and Thorne shifting in his chair, Catherine cleared her throat. “Can you hold Jonathan for a moment while I lace up? I suspect he’s had enough for now.”
“Well, that’s one of us,” he said as he stood to take Jonathan from her.
“Pardon?”
“Just ignore me. I have an entirely different sort of hunger than my son, and mine is not yet appeased,” he said with a rakish grin.
Holding Jonathan high in his arms, he turned away from her to allow her a modicum of privacy. Had she known he was angling to view her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall as she put herself back together, her coloring would have easily matched the dark mauve of her skirt.
Chapter Seventeen
Christmas morning was crisp and clear, it was cold, but not uncomfortably so. There was an unusual amount of activity as tables were set up outside for the feast and the house was given its final touches in preparation for the open house. And of course, the gardeners had their hands full, filling all the holes that once again littered the grounds.
After seeing to Jonathan and finishing her toilette, Catherine dressed in a serviceable brown flannel skirt with a ruffle around the hem and a crisply ironed pink blouse. She decorated the modest décolletage with a corsage she had made from a tiny pine bough with a miniature pinecone attached. She had added a holly and berry sprig over a scrap of white lace, tied on a bright red ribbon bow, and as a centerpiece attached the tiny piece of the mistletoe she had taken back to her room after helping in the kitchen a few days ago. She pinned her hair up and secured it with a tiny comb entwined with more of the red ribbon along with another section of the mistletoe.
Thorne passed her on the stairs—he was coming up as she was coming down, and although they acknowledged each other with a nod, nothing was said. She was four steps down from where he stood on the landing when he suddenly stopped her by turning and calling down to her. He was frowning. “Catherine, may I see you for a moment?”
She frowned as well, but turned back and followed him up. He walked to an alcove and waited for her.
“What is that in your hair?” He looked down at her chest and frowned again. He lifted a finger and touched the edge of the corsage pinned there. “And here?”
“It is mistletoe.”
“It was a rhetorical question. I know what it is. Why is it there?”
She hesitated. Should she tell
him the truth, that she thought to coerce him into a kiss? No, he seemed angry, so instead she said. “I thought it looked pretty.”
“Well it does, however . . . it is also an invitation. Please remove it at once. I would hate to have to smash a man’s face in should he accept your invitation and kiss you on your lips. If he were to kiss you where the other piece resides, I’m afraid I would have to kill him.”
With that said, he turned and abruptly walked away.
Catherine stared after him for several long moments, then went back to her room and removed the mistletoe. So, it seemed she was not to have a kiss today . . . from anyone. She smiled into the mirror. But what she had been given by his terse comment was oh so much better. He was being possessive. And jealous. How wonderful. She fairly beamed.
The day had been so much fun. It flew by faster than she would have liked, what with the flurry of events and all the time spent helping out. She met so many people she couldn’t keep them straight, and showed off Jonathan to all the men, women and children when they visited the house. The upstairs rooms were off limits to wanderers, so she sat with Jonathan and played with him in the main parlor so everyone could coo over him.
When the carolers gathered, she held him in her arms while the musicians and the singers sang their hymns so he could hear the beautiful Christian music. The earl stood behind his mother’s chair on the other side of the room and every time she looked over at him, she found he was staring at her and smiling back.
Just before the sun went down, props were shoved into place, the mummers paraded in as if on stage, and the pageant began. After a few minutes, she saw the earl gesture to a footman, and then when he attended him, he whispered something in his ear. A few moments later a chair was brought forward and placed behind her. The footman gestured imperiously for her to sit. When she hesitated, thinking she should allow one of the older ladies to have the chair, the earl nodded in her direction and with a pointed look coerced her to sit. She was grateful, as Jonathan was beginning to get heavy.
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