by Cheryl Holt
“The thunder scared me.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s bad out there.”
She studied his sodden coat and boots. “You must have been out in it a long time.”
“Yes, I went to Benton. I just got home.”
She lifted her hand to show him she was holding an apple.
“I was hungry,” she said, “so I snuck into the kitchen and helped myself. Is that all right? Should I put it back?”
“No, you shouldn’t put it back. You may eat any morsel of food in this house, and you don’t need to ask permission.”
She smiled tentatively. “I was hoping you’d think that. Aunt Jo is afraid we’ll become a nuisance, and I’d hate for you to suppose we were a bother.”
“Well, you’ve only been here for two days, and in such a short period, you couldn’t aggravate me. Maybe after you’ve been here a few weeks, I’ll decide you’re a pest.”
He’d been joking, but she appeared stricken, so apparently, he had to practice the skills required when talking to a young girl.
“I’m never a pest,” she vehemently stated. “I promise.”
“I was teasing, Daisy. You couldn’t be a pest if you tried. Nor could your Aunt Jo. I’m happy to have you.”
“Are you sure? We’ve been worried you didn’t really want to invite us to stay with you.”
“There’s one thing you should know about me.”
“What’s that?”
“I never do anything I don’t wish to do.”
“Is that because you’re an earl now?”
“No, it’s not that. I’ve always liked to have my own way. If I hadn’t wanted you to be here with me, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”
“If we start to irritate you, will you tell me? I couldn’t bear to learn that you were angry with us and I didn’t realize it.”
“You couldn’t possibly make me angry.”
She was very pretty, and she looked just like Neville: blond and blue-eyed, with agreeable features and a thin frame. She seemed nicer than Neville though, so she’d inherited his bodily features but not his personality.
According to Josephine, Daisy’s mother, Maud, was dreadful too, so Daisy hadn’t inherited her attributes either. Perhaps her sweet nature was from a throwback generation, and he suspected the traits were deeply buried in Maud’s side of the family. In the Prescott bloodline, Peyton couldn’t recall a single kind relative.
“It’s icy down here,” he said. “You should get to bed.”
“I’m afraid of the storm.”
He waved away her concern. “Ah, storm’s are for sissies, and you’re not a sissy.”
She grinned. “No, I’m not.”
“Would you like me to walk you up to your room?”
“Would you?” She frowned. “Unless you’re too busy. I can go on my own.”
“I don’t mind.”
“You’re dripping all over the floor. Mr. Newman won’t like that.”
“We could just not admit it was me.”
At the notion, she was aghast. “What if he thought it was me?”
“Then I’d have to confess.”
He held out his hand to her, and she gazed at it warily, but in the end, she grabbed on.
“You’re freezing!” she scolded as she felt his skin against her own. “If Aunt Jo was with us, she’d blister your ears. You shouldn’t be out in weather like this. Do you want to perish from an influenza?”
He chuckled. “No, I certainly don’t.”
He’d lived his life with seafaring men, so he’d spent scant time with women. The prior evening, Jo had mentioned that she’d fret over him riding in the dark, and now, Daisy was fretting about him being in the rain.
It was rather pleasant, having a female fuss over him. He hadn’t ever wondered if he’d like that sort of treatment, and if he had pondered it, he’d have assumed he wouldn’t like it. But he enjoyed it after all. It was very…soothing.
They tiptoed up the stairs, and when they reached the landing, Newman emerged from the shadows, and they both jumped.
“I’ve been watching for you, my lord,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you arrive.”
“I just got back.”
“Will you need supper? Should I rouse the cook?”
“No, don’t trouble her. I ate on the road. I am cold and wet though.”
Daisy added, “He’s dripping everywhere, Mr. Newman. We were praying you wouldn’t find out, but since you’ve caught us, we can’t hide it.”
“It’s all right, Miss Daisy,” Newman told her. “We’ll clean it up.”
“Daisy was upset by the thunder,” Peyton explained to Newman. “I’m putting her to bed, but I’m tired and chilly. Could you stoke the fire in my bedchamber and lay out some clothes? I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, I’ll see to it immediately.”
Peyton kept on, Daisy’s small hand clutched in his much larger one. He was trying to recollect if he’d ever previously strolled hand in hand with a child. If he had, he couldn’t remember it. Again, it was rather pleasant. It conjured visions of family gatherings, of being a husband and father.
What would it be like to have a house filled with children? They’d bring noise and chaos and…happiness he supposed. Would that be a bad thing?
They entered Daisy’s room, and he hadn’t lit a candle, but there was a bit of illumination wafting in the window. She climbed in bed, pausing first to place her apple on the nightstand.
“Will you be scared if there’s more thunder?” he asked.
“Not now that you’re home.”
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s what I tell Aunt Jo, but she worries constantly.”
“She worries?”
“Yes. If you’d arrived earlier, you would have cheered her up.” Daisy wrinkled her nose. “We had a terrible day.”
He stiffened, prepared to be incensed on her behalf. “How was it terrible? I hope no one here was awful to you.”
“No, everyone here has been very kind.”
“What was it then?”
“We were shopping, and we ran into my mother.”
“Your…mother? Maud Bates?”
“Yes, she’s my mother. She doesn’t want anyone to know, but she is—no matter how she pretends.”
“I’m glad you don’t have any illusions about her. You’re being very mature about all of this.”
“I had to be, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
“She was very mean to Aunt Jo.” Daisy sighed. “I hate that she’s so mean. Aunt Jo doesn’t deserve it.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Could I ask a favor of you?” Daisy peeked up at him. “Is it allowed?”
“You can always ask. I can’t guarantee I’ll grant your request, but you can ask.”
“Could you get Aunt Jo’s clothes from my mother?”
“Her clothes?”
“Yes. My mother kicked us out, so Jo had to leave her clothes there. She’s been so vexed about it.”
“I can imagine.”
It was another sign of how distracted he’d been. He hadn’t delved into the circumstances of Jo’s departure from her sister’s house. He understood it had been contentious, but he hadn’t reflected on just how contentious.
“I wish I could get them for her,” Daisy said, “but I can’t figure out how I would.”
“I’ll talk to her. I’ll find out what she needs and how I can assist her.”
He must have supplied the correct answer, for she beamed with satisfaction. “I just knew you would. And could I ask a favor for myself?”
“Yes.”
“I had to leave a jar of pennies there.”
“Pennies?”
“They were gifts—from my father. It’s not right that I can’t have them.”
“I agree, and I’ll work on getting those t
oo.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now promise me you won’t be wandering the halls. It’s too cold. You might make yourself sick.”
“You’re the one who’s cold and wet. I should be lecturing you.”
“Yes, you probably should.”
She hesitated, then inquired, “Would you tuck me in? Aunt Jo always does, and I like it.”
“I’ll drip all over the blankets.”
“I don’t care.”
He neared and tugged the covers up to her chin.
She motioned to the door. “You don’t have to tarry. I’m very tired, so I’ll fall asleep pretty fast.”
“Does your Aunt Jo wait until you doze off?”
“Yes, but we already did this once tonight.”
“I think we can engage in the ritual one more time. There’s no rule that says we can’t.”
There was a chair by the bed, and he pulled it closer and sat down. He tamped down a shiver, watching her as she yawned and rolled onto her back. The room grew quieter, her inhalations slowing, her eyelids drifting shut.
“You’re nicer than my father,” she murmured.
“Am I?”
“Yes. I like you way more.”
He’d love to have peppered her with questions, and suddenly, he was incredibly curious about her life at Benton. What was her opinion of Neville? What about Barbara and Richard? How had she really been treated? How many nannies and governesses had she had besides Miss Watson? Had she been happy? Had she been lonely?
He wondered if she’d had any news about her half-siblings, Bobby and Jane. Miss Watson had traipsed off to Cornwall with them, hoping Jane’s uncle would provide shelter. Bobby and Jane were Neville’s children too, so Peyton had to pay more attention to their plight.
He decided to remain at home in the morning, to interrogate Daisy. He’d quiz Jo too, to ensure she had what she required, to learn what she envisioned for herself and Daisy. And of course, he had to ask about Bobby and Jane. If Jo hadn’t received any information, then Peyton had to track down Miss Watson to determine if she’d found a viable conclusion for them.
Daisy was sleeping, and he tiptoed out and hurried to his own room. Newman had built a toasty fire, and he helped Peyton strip off his heavy, damp clothes.
Shortly, he was dry and warm, and he shooed Newman off to bed.
It had been a grueling day. The fight with Richard and Barbara had him more confused than ever about his return to the navy. He couldn’t abide the bickering he’d been forced to endure because of them. But how could he sail away from England when they were at Benton? He could install a team of managers, but Barbara and Richard would never relinquish power if Peyton wasn’t there to insist.
He was at a loss as to how it should all proceed. He’d given them a deadline to move out of the manor, but he was certain they wouldn’t heed him. He’d likely show up in a month, and they’d be sitting in the dining room where he’d left them. He’d have to personally, physically evict them, then stand guard so they didn’t slither back. The whole notion was exhausting to contemplate.
Should he speak to his commanding officer and request an extension of his furlough? Any such request would be granted, but did he want to do that? Did he want to loaf in England merely to guarantee that Richard and Barbara behaved as he’d bid them?
Even from the Dower House, Barbara and her brother would be a lurking presence to obstruct, complain, and hinder.
On top of it all, the trip to Benton had prevented him from calling on Amelia and Evan. At the moment, he was too weary to consider how awful that conversation would be. His quarrel with Barbara and Richard had been bad enough. He’d never previously squabbled over issues such as finances and children, and he didn’t like it one bit.
Newman had set out a decanter of brandy, and Peyton plopped down on a chair and poured himself a glass. He sipped it as he studied the flames. He was feeling particularly morose, stress and aggravation taking their toll.
The walls seemed to close in, and the house was empty and quiet. Too quiet. Normally, he spent his evenings on his ship, surrounded by his crew. He was never alone there, not even in his cabin.
He was swamped by the most urgent need to talk to somebody, to tell somebody about his horrid journey to Benton. Josephine was just down the hall. She’d ordered him not to sneak in again, but she was a female. Why listen to her about anything that mattered?
He downed his brandy, refilled the glass, and downed that too. Daisy had mentioned Jo’s day had been horrid as well. Was she also wishing she had someone to talk to? Might she be glad to talk to Peyton?
There was only one way to find out.
He marched directly to her bedchamber, and he didn’t try to be furtive. He was that determined to be with her.
To his great relief, the silly girl hadn’t locked her door, so he was saved the embarrassment of having to knock and be denied entrance. He walked in, and he’d figured she would be sound asleep, but while the blankets on her bed were folded back, she wasn’t in it. There was light emanating from the dressing room, and he strolled over and peeked in. She was seated at the dressing table, attired in her nightgown and robe.
She saw him in the mirror, and she froze, her expression exasperated.
“Why are you creeping in, Lord Benton?” she asked. “What is your purpose?”
“Call me Peyton.”
“No. I could have sworn we debated this last night. We agreed you wouldn’t visit me.”
“We didn’t agree. You announced your edict, but I didn’t consent to it.”
She spun to face him. “You can’t be in here.”
“I already am, so your point is moot.”
She stood and, crude oaf that he was, he stepped in. Suddenly, their bodies were crushed together.
“Move,” she said, and she shoved him to no avail.
“No.”
“You’re being a bully.”
“Yes, I admit it.”
She was just so pretty, and merely from staring at her, he felt better. How did she do that? How did she soothe the beast that always raged just under the surface?
He ought to tamp down his fascination, but apparently, he couldn’t. She simply had an effect on him that no other female had ever been able to generate. There was a road opening for them. Why not travel down it with her?
He dipped down and kissed her, his arm going around her waist to pull her even nearer. For the briefest instant, she tensed, then she kissed him back with all the fondness she could muster. They kept on for quite awhile, the sweetness of it being more than he could bear. He didn’t want to ever desist which was ridiculous in the extreme.
“Where have you been?” she asked as he finally drew away. “I’ve been worried all day.”
“I rode to Benton.”
“Were you out in the dark again?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must have been caught in the rain.”
“I was.”
She tsked with irritation. “What should I do with you?”
“I can think of a dozen things.”
“Of course you can. You’re a man, and from the hot gleam in your eye, it’s clear that none of them are ideas you would dare describe to me.”
“You could be right.”
He was exhausted, the weather and the trip leaving him drained. He had to lie down before he fell down, but if he suggested it, they’d quarrel, so why voice a futile request?
He scooped her up and headed out to the bedchamber.
“Put me down!” she demanded, her scowl fierce.
“I’m worn out, and I have to lie down.”
“Well, you’re not lying down in here. We discussed this.”
“No, Jo, you discussed it, and I had no comment. You didn’t seek my opinion.”
“That’s because it would have been absurd.”
“You’ve convinced yourself that we should av
oid each other, but there’s another perfectly viable path.”
“What is it?” she sarcastically inquired. “I can’t wait to hear.”
“This is the perfect path.”
He dropped her on the bed, and she squealed with affront and attempted to slither away, but he was too quick for her. He tumbled onto the mattress too and stretched out, and though she fussed and protested, he kept her in place until she recognized escape was impossible.
“Hold on, you little wildcat.”
“No! You’re so rude, and we’re not doing this!”
“I told you I’m incredibly fatigued.” He draped her across his chest so she was nestled close. “Stop complaining, and tell me about your day. Daisy claims it was horrid.”
She popped up, frowning. “Daisy! When did you speak to her? She’s supposed to be asleep.”
“She was downstairs when I came in. The thunder woke her.”
Jo stared at the door. “I should check on her. Let me up.”
“She’s fine, and you’re not getting away from me, so don’t try.”
“How can you be certain she’s fine?”
“I tucked her in myself.”
“You tucked her in?”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
She chuckled. “I won’t answer that.”
“I like her.”
“You should like her. She’s your niece.”
“Besides that, she’s…a nice girl.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I haven’t spent much time around children,” he said. “My life isn’t one that’s ever included them. I like having her here.”
“Good.”
He snuggled her down. A fire had been lit earlier, but it had mostly dwindled to ash, and the temperature was cooling. Despite his dry clothes, he was very chilled, and without meaning to, he shivered.
“You’re so cold. How long were you out in the rain?” She scoffed with disgust. “No, no, don’t tell me. I shudder to imagine, and any true statement would only make me angry.”
“I wouldn’t want you to be angry.”
“I swear, Peyton Prescott, if you catch a lung infection, I won’t nurse you.”
“Ooh, you vixen! How could you be so cruel? You can’t be serious. If I grow deathly ill, you have to remain by my bed every second.”
“I won’t agree to that. It would simply stroke your massive ego, and it doesn’t need stroking.”