A tradesman? Someone applying for a position here? He pursed his lips and remained in front of the glass, waiting to see if the man reappeared. When he didn’t, he sat in the chair in front of the fire and closed his eyes. There was much to do, and at the moment he did not have half the energy needed. His mind seemed sharp at times but murky at others like he’d awakened from a deep sleep and couldn’t focus.
Perhaps he should do as Ralston suggested and consult someone trained at the Royal Academy. He needed all his wits about him if he was to keep the estate running properly. Father had rarely taken time to educate him on practical matters. He cared more for the state of his soul.
The man should have been a monk.
Inheriting the title from his own father, a noted rakehell in his day, had thwarted any ideas Father may have had to an ecclesiastical vocation. He’d been the heir, not a second or third son. He’d had a duty to his title.
If Bronwyn was still in London, it might be better to take the child and drop him off at her door. She could hardly refuse him, could she? It would only be until George was old enough to be sent to school.
And there was yet another reason to go to town. Emily might be there for a good deal of time, depending on her father’s recovery. She was sure to be at ton entertainments.
He sighed.
Town was a very good idea for several reasons.
He would make an appointment with a bloody physician. Find out what was wrong.
Ralston would be pleased. He’d tell him this afternoon.
Chapter 16
The imposing red-brick edifice looked like any other London townhouse. It had a flat front and evenly spaced sash windows on four levels with a canopied entrance to Harley Street.
Andrew sat stiffly in the drawing room. The upper floors of this house formed a residence, and the ground floor was the office of a well-known physician Ralston had recommended. Andrew had been here once already, having arrived in town a few days ago.
This is a damn waste of time. I need to get home and take care of business.
Bronwyn was not in town. She’d already left for the country to prepare for the holidays. He should have waited for her response, which had been forwarded to him this morning. But no, he’d had to run off to London—George and members of his newly-acquired household staff in tow—to open Cardmore House. Full of dust and peeling paint, the place was in worse shape than the Hall. Fortunately, Mrs. Evans had known what to bring and had set her staff to work.
Waiting to be called, he rose and wandered around the large, sparsely-furnished waiting room. The man certainly had ample space to accommodate his practice. He’d made that observation during his first visit, the one that had produced only questions. Today he desperately hoped the physician had answers.
A stern-faced man opened a door and bowed. “You may enter, Lord Cardmore.” He led him inside a book-lined study. The doctor, seated at a desk, rose to greet him. He then adjusted his spectacles and tapped a quill against a small book bound in brown leather.
Andrew, eager to find out what the physician had learned, sat forward in his chair.
“I’ve reviewed your complaints and consulted an esteemed colleague,” said the man. “We find nothing amiss. You say there is a scar but no red streaks on the skin, no oozing or putrefaction. The shoulder is not stiff. There should be no impediment to an active life. No need for a further visit.”
“But the pain—“
He removed the spectacles and set them on the desk. “Perhaps you imagine it. A memory of past pain perhaps? As long as you are taking laudanum—a perfectly respectable medication—there’s no need to worry further. “My man will see you out.”
Stifling a need to slam the door, he left the office and hailed a hackney. Fog covered the streets with a fine mist. The dampness prevented him from riding his horse today, but he found the afternoons often were drier.
I do not conjure up pain like a magician.
His condition seemed to worsen each day. When he was too long without his medication, pain wracked his entire body. Soon he’d need a cellar full of the foul tonic to keep him functioning.
He ordered the driver to take him home. He’d planned to visit his man of business, but he’d do it another day, when he wasn’t surly. Drake’s figures for the repairs to the stone bridge and roofs of two cottages were daunting. More funds might be needed.
What he longed to do was call on Emily, but even after seven years, he would not be received at Langston House. Maybe Ralston could go, find out when she was returning to the country. The entire family might be remaining in London if Langston’s injury prevented him from travel.
Coward. You should go and demand entry.
He sat in the corner of the conveyance, while pitchforks dug into his shoulder. He’d see his accountant on the morrow. Right now he needed to get home to his elixir. If the weather cleared, perhaps he’d take George on an outing. He hadn’t told the lad about the pony he had bought before they left the village. He’d collect it when he returned and keep it hidden until Christmas.
He’d overcome his initial reluctance to make the purchase, and was now quite excited. He found he liked having the lad about, which was a good thing since his efforts to find a better home for him were for naught. His eyes still blurred at the scathing words written by his sister in her response to his inquiry. Thankfully he had not endured her scold in person. “Do your duty. Do not shirk your responsibility. If you cannot see your way, pray on it.”
Pray on it? She was Father’s daughter through and through.
If he must become a responsible parent, then he must do one of two things. He could get to know the boy and find a way to rise above the occasional twinges of animosity he felt in his presence. Or he could marry again, and let a wife take over the boy’s care.
The second idea might have appealed to him if a certain woman had not made it clear they could only be friends. That left the first one. When the coach stopped in front of his home, he alighted slowly and staggered in—first to his suite to take his medicine, and then to find Mrs. Townsend.
The nanny was nowhere in sight, but George sat on the floor with his toy horse, talking softly. Andrew stood by the door and studied the intent expression on the lad’s face as he held the toy by the neck, moving it across the floor in front of him.
“Take care, Snowflake. The floor is slippery. If you fall, I will take care of you ’cause you’re my only friend.” He crawled along the floor, holding fast to the toy.
A lump swelled in Andrew’s throat. He knew what it was like to crave friends, and here was a child in his care who was as devoid of companionship as he had been. True, George didn’t spend hours on his knees in prayer in a dark private chapel. Nor would he ever be required to. But the simple act of play—be it climbing a tree or tossing stones or merely making silly conversation with other children—should not be denied him.
He swallowed past the lump and knocked. George turned over and sat, clutching the horse to his chest as if he feared Andrew was there to take it away.
“Would you like to visit a park today? You may bring, er, Snowflake, if you wish.”
His eyes widened, and a smile curved up. “Could I? I would like it ever so much.”
“Let me find Mrs. Townsend, and I shall await you at the bottom of the stairs. We’ll go in the town coach. Snowflake can rest there when we get out to walk.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Well, that wasn’t too difficult, was it?
A feeling of elation swept over him. His step seemed lighter as he hurried into his rooms where he told Lester he’d be going out for a while.
“Find Mrs. Townsend and tell her to dress the boy warmly. He’s going with me.”
His valet’s mouth opened in surprise. “You’re taking Master George?”
&nb
sp; “I am. I enjoyed being outside at his age. The fog is already lifting. A drive around Hyde Park with a stop for a walk might be exactly what he needs.”
“Won’t people gossip about seeing him with you, my lord?”
Andrew turned and studied Lester’s face. “Why would there be gossip if a father takes his son for a ride in the park? Do you know something you’re not telling me, Lester?”
The man’s ears turned red, and he looked down and fidgeted with a button on his coat. “No, my lord. But it seems like you’ve been reluctant for people to know the young one is living with you now.”
His excuse made sense, but his comment had been odd. Had he overheard him talking to Emily about George’s parentage? Or to Ralston? He couldn’t recall if Lester had been nearby during those very private conversations.
“Be off with you then. I want to go while my shoulder feels better.”
He left, and Andrew gathered his outerwear and loped down the stairs. Was this what doing a good deed felt like? He must do more of them.
Hyde Park was a short distance from Cardmore House, and George’s attention was riveted on the passing scene the entire time. Flower stalls seemed to fascinate him, but his greatest attention was reserved for the horses, whether they were pulling carts or carrying single gentlemen. When they arrived at the park, they alighted, and George ran ahead to the edge of the Serpentine. Shrieking in delight, as only a child could, he chased a flock of ducks that squawked and flapped their wings in protest at the invader until they reached the pond and floated away.
Andrew strolled more sedately, clutching a small bag of breadcrumbs supplied by the cook. When he reached George, he handed it to him.
“Don’t throw them all in at once. A few at a time.”
He nodded, and within minutes, the flock was back, to the child’s delight.
Was I ever that carefree?
His trips to the lake at home had been pure escape, looking for his companion, the one who helped keep his childhood filled with good memories. Of course he’d been older than George, able to run down to the kitchen to beg a treat from the cook, or roam on his own while his tutor napped.
He blinked as he stared at two women in the distance. Was one of them really Emily, or was his mind playing tricks on him? The women approached, talking with animation, laughing as if they were old friends. A boy younger than George toddled beside them.
Spying him, Emily frowned, turned to the other woman, and tilted her head in his direction. The woman smiled, and Emily hurried over, a fashionable bonnet on her head, the large bow tied under her chin. She looked like an angel today in a coat trimmed in white fur.
He took off his hat as she approached. “It is you. I did not expect to see you here. How is your father?”
“He is actually doing quite well, but Aunt Lily frets when he’s ill. They were very close growing up. In fact Papa seems to perk up and smile more in her presence.” She paused. “What brings you to London?”
He glanced at George, walking very close to the edge of the pond, but decided not to mention his sister. “At Ralston’s suggestion, I consulted a physician about my chronic pain.”
“Excellent. Did he solve the problem?”
“I’m afraid not.”
George ran over, having spotted Emily. He stopped in front of her and looked up expectantly.
“Master George. How nice to see you out of doors.” She slanted an astonished glance at Andrew. “You brought him?”
“I did. I thought taking the air would be good for the child. Soon the cold weather will keep us all indoors.”
“I must say I am shocked, but in a good way.” She looked around. “Did Mrs. Townsend not accompany you? Gentlemen generally do not bring their offspring to a park without their nursemaid. You amaze me, Cardmore.”
He stretched his lips into a smile and wondered if his eyes were twinkling, because Emily was staring into them with wonderment. “I sometimes astonish myself.”
George sneezed, and Emily knelt in front of him. She took a handkerchief from inside her muff and wiped his nose. “You may keep this. I see you’ve been feeding ducks. They must now be much plumper than before.”
“I chased them, too.”
“I daresay, they didn’t care for that,” said Emily. “Most are in the water now.” She ruffled his hair and stood upright. “How long will you be in London?”
“Until the end of the week. I believe George might like a few more outings. Do you have any suggestions?”
“The Tower. He might like to see the lions.”
“Capital idea.” He hesitated. “Would you like to go with us?”
She swallowed and shoved her hands into her muff. Looking over at the woman standing a few yards away, she shook her head. “It would be awkward.”
“I understand.” He tipped his hat. “But please consider it. You can send word to Cardmore House if you change your mind. I guess we’ll be on our way then. Who is the woman with the young boy?”
“My cousin Miranda, the Countess of Longley. She is the daughter of my mother’s sister Victoria, or so we all believe.”
“Sounds like a mystery.”
“A story for another time, my lord. Have a good day.” She reached down and gave George a quick hug. “Take care of this young man.” She hurried off and rejoined her companion, looking back only once.
George tugged on his hand. “I like her, Papa. She’s a nice lady.”
Andrew froze. This was the first time George had called him papa. He wasn’t sure how it made him feel, but his comment deserved a response.
“I’m glad, because I like her, too.”
He left the child’s hand in his while they walked back to the carriage. He’d forgotten to ask Emily when she was returning, but it couldn’t be too far in the future. Langston was not about to expire.
The Tower—an excellent choice. Astley’s might be a good outing, too. If he could persuade Emily to join them, his stay in London promised to be more enjoyable than he expected.
If only the physician had come to a more satisfactory conclusion.
Thinking about his shoulder produced a twinge. It was time to get back home, especially since his charge sneezed again.
Making sure the child’s cap was tight and his coat buttoned, they set off to find their carriage.
Chapter 17
“Who was that?” Miranda leaned down and picked up a fussy James. Emily thought him very well-behaved for a two-year-old, but walks in parks with exciting things must eventually tire a child.
“Lord Cardmore. He’s a neighbor in the Cotswolds.”
“Odd to see a gentleman with a child in tow. I did not see a nursemaid.”
Odder than you think, thought Emily. She hoped Andrew was having a change of heart where the boy was concerned. George’s cheeks were bright pink from the cold, but the outing seemed agreeable to him.
They strolled on, James’s nurse following behind.
“Did you say Cardmore? Isn’t he a war hero?”
“I believe he distinguished himself in a battle. But it was Waterloo where he sustained an injury that still plagues him.”
“Was it a bone that did not set properly? Will, my first husband, had to reset a few done hastily by other surgeons.”
“No, ’tis his shoulder. A saber wound.”
She tilted her head. “He sustained a shoulder wound, and his arm was not affected? Often you see an arm hanging limply because the muscles were severed.”
“His arm is normal, but he still has pain.” She hesitated. Should she say more? She’d made an effort to get to know her cousin while in London and wondered why she had shied away from her in the past. Miranda Montague, the Countess of Longley, was a no-nonsense type who had put her at ease the first day she had called on h
er. In some ways, she reminded Emily of her friend Gwen.
“He and I were once betrothed,” she added. “But he married another.”
Emily was grateful Miranda didn’t ask any further questions. They found their carriage and climbed in. James held out his hands to Emily as the carriage lurched forward.
“May I hold him?”
“He doesn’t usually take to strangers, but I think he must sense we’re related.” Miranda laughed and handed the child over. He immediately reached up to fiddle with one of Emily’s bonnet ribbons.
The child’s warmth stole into her heart. His eyes, blue like his mother’s, stared up at her, and he laughed in delight when her bonnet loosened and fell to her shoulders. She gave him a hug and handed him back, giving him her muff to play with on his mother’s lap. How wonderful it would be to have a child of her own.
But that was not to be.
The carriage came to a stop at the Longley House front steps. “Please come in and have a cup of tea. I’ve enjoyed our visit.”
“Thank you, but I told Mama I would accompany her to a ball tonight. The daughter of one of her dearest friends is having her come-out.”
“Then by all means, I won’t keep you. But please come again. James has quite taken to you. I’m sure he’d love to show you his hobbyhorse. ’Tis only a stick with a wooden horse’s head and reins, but his chubby legs make it gallop quite well.”
A hobbyhorse. Perhaps she could buy one for George.
Emily waved as the carriage lurched into movement. She’d have time to rest before dinner and tonight’s activity.
She was not looking forward to her “reintroduction to society” as Mama put it, as if she’d been gone for years instead of this year’s season. She did put her foot down about a gown Mama wanted her to wear. Far too young and frilly, the gown was one for a debutante, not a woman of mature years.
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