Chapter Fifteen
V erda stood in the foyer still fatigued from her nighttime visit of nephews and uncle. Mr. Oshea and the earl were leaving for Alnmouth and she could hardly wait to fall into bed anticipating a full night’s sleep… but what if the woman the earl had hired didn’t understand Julius? What if she insisted Noah’s assistance was a hindrance? What if…
Enough , she berated herself. She stopped just short of banging her forehead against the nearest wall. Mostly, due to Lord Pender’s presence.
Mr. Oshea appeared and descended the stairs. “I fear Mrs. Lyall had the right of it when she said she was the only wet nurse in the region,” he said, whipping his greatcoat around his shoulders.
The statement made no sense to her. “That seems quite unlikely, doesn’t it? I mean babies are born fairly often.” Then added because she wasn’t quite sure. “Aren’t they?”
“A sorry business all around,” Lord Pender growled.
Verda restrained an eyeroll.
“I suspect it’s Stonemare,” Mr. Oshea said with a grim smile. “It has a reputation.”
She snorted. “You mean that business of it being haunted?”
Lord Pender grinned. “Don’t forget ‘lurid.’”
A look of irritation crossed Mr. Oshea’s features and he appeared to ignore his brother and looked to Verda. “Where did you hear that?”
“From Mr. Colbert. He told me to call him ‘Cracked.’”
A burst of sharp laughter rent the air. Lord Pender’s. “Colbert’s cracked all right.”
Mr. Oshea shook his head. He fastened his coat at the neck and plopped a fur-lined hat on his head. “We shall return.”
“Bye, Papa. Bye, Uncle Sander.” Noah lifted Julius’s hand and flopped it in a wave from the door of the library with all the confidence of an aged nursemaid.
Verda set a hand on Noah’s shoulder as doubts flooded her. “Are you certain this woman is necessary?”
“You don’t miss your privacy, Miss Fairclough? Of course, she’s necessary.” Lord Pender’s tone, she was learning, was more bark than actual bite, though his arrogance was vastly annoying.
Mr. Oshea met her gaze. “You and Noah cannot be expected to manage the constant care of an infant.”
True. It was a miracle Verda could function at all. “Very well. Travel safely, sir, my lord. We shall see you when you return.”
Verda tugged Noah and the baby into the room and out of the vestibule and the ancient front door’s draft.
The heavy door clanged shut after them and the silence left her oddly bereft.
Three weeks of adapting to Julius’s erratic schedule had indeed exhausted her. She was looking forward to a full night’s sleep. She didn’t know how Noah coped so well. Youth, she supposed. “Shall we attempt Greek and Latin today?” she asked her charge.
Noah let out a groan reminiscent of his uncle.
She hid her smile and led him to the settee so Noah could place Julius snuggly in his basket near the hearth. She’d used this time each day to visit with Noah. Coax his aspirations from him outside of taking on Julius’s care.
Mrs. Knagg had already supplied a tray of tea for her, chocolate for Noah, and a cylinder of watered-down goat’s milk they’d taken to feeding Julius.
Selecting primers from a stack on the table, she went to the settee and set them on the space beside her, poured herself a cup of tea with a dash of milk, then settled back. Before she could pose a question, Noah blindsided her with his own.
“Are you going to marry Uncle Sander?”
Verda somehow managed not to send tea spewing over her serviceable brown gown. “B-Beg pardon?” Her gaze was caught in the innocent and unblinking stare he leveled on her. “Why on earth would you ask such a thing?” It took a minute before she managed to break the eye contact to fumble with refilling her cup instead. With shaking fingers and verve, she finally cut a side glance to him.
“You kissed him,” he accused her. “In the dark.”
“My, er, candle blew out.” An appallingly weak counter.
“That doesn’t make one kiss,” he smartly pointed out.
No. That was a side benefit. Verda closed her eyes. She couldn’t very well say that. “Are you certain you saw a kiss?” Proving she would make an excellent candidate for Bedlam.
Again, she was hit with his amusement, so cynical for one so young. How long would it take Julius to perfect that expression? She doubted she would be around long enough to learn. A depressing thought.
“All right,” she acknowledged on a hiss. “But you will never mention this topic again. He kissed me .”
Noah’s brows furrowed. “What’s the difference?”
Nothing , based on her reaction at the time. She’d enthusiastically responded, clung to those broad shoulders. Stunned, that she hadn’t been frightened in the least. Any thought of being cold? Sizzled away with the heat of his lips and his hands. “Something you shall learn as you grow older. Now”— she picked up one of the primers and tossed it in his lap—“shall we start with Latin?”
He lifted the book with a smirk, once more reminding her of his uncle. “Sure. But this is Greek.”
*
Two grueling hours with Noah left Verda tempted to snatch her hair out. But Julius woke, finally putting her out of her misery with a need for changing and feeding. She handled the feeding portion then turned the infant over to Noah’s care and donned her coat for a brisk walk.
A quick glance at the hovering clouds showed the rain at bay, if just barely. She found her normal path in a biting wind that whipped her skirts into a frenzy. The cold piercing her lungs was welcome, loosening the constricting tightness. She made her way through a copse of trees and was rewarded with droplets of cold rain sliding along the back of her neck beneath her cloak. The path through the trees opened up along the cliffs, but she was cognizant of Mr. Oshea’s voice in her head, warning her of the wind.
Indeed, it was strong enough to knock her off her feet. The crashing waves below deafened her and she reveled in the isolation of the moors and the vast sky. She raised her face and arms to the heavens, welcoming the gusts that dampened her face with a light mist.
Verda heaved in several bracing breaths before lowering her arms. It was time to return. She turned and headed back to the copse and froze, tilted her head, and listened.
“Help.” It was faint. It was female. It was young.
“I’m here,” Verda called. “Where are you?”
A shaking voice led her off the path farther into the trees.
More drops saturated her bonnet and cloak, and worse yet, the rain began its torrent from the clouds. The trees acted as a leaky umbrella, protecting her some, but clearly, she was running out of light. She followed the voice to a dark lump taking cover between a fallen log and a low-branched tree.
Verda ran to the girl and lowered to her knees.
The child’s hair was darkened by the rain and plastered to her head, her eyes puffy from crying. “Oh, thank goodness,” she cried.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I twisted my ankle, I think.”
“Where do you live? How did you come to be on Pender land? What is your name? What are you doing out here alone ?” Verda barely restrained herself from taking the girl by the arms and shaking her. Instead, she sucked in another, less calming breath.
She stared at Verda with wide dark eyes, her mouth slightly parted.
“My apologies. Perhaps we should start with your name?”
“Lady Docia Hale. I-I live at the neighboring property to the north.”
“All right. Do you mind if I check your ankle?”
She shook her head and Verda ran her fingers over the girl’s left ankle, which was somewhat swollen. “How did you get here?”
“I rode my pony. I fell off and she ran home.” Lady Docia sniffed back more tears and swiped her nose with her sleeve. “At least I hope she ran home.”
“How old are you?”
“Eleven.”
Verda smiled. “Too big for me to carry, I fear. Let’s get you to your feet. I’m afraid you’ll have to return with me to Stonemare.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “Ghosts don’t scare me.”
Verda came to her feet and, bracing herself, helped Lady Docia to hers, but the instant the girl put the slightest amount on her left foot, she nearly toppled back to her bum but for Verda’s hold on her. “Whoa there.”
Verda slipped an arm beneath the girl’s and slowly, they made their way to the path and through the small forest.
The overfilled clouds let loose their deluge, making for a most uncomfortable trek to Stonemare. Once they’d reached the edge of their meager covering, Verda was dismayed to find the carriage parked in the sweep. “Oh, dear,” she murmured.
“What?”
Verda didn’t have time to answer.
Mr. Oshea emerged from the portico. Verda couldn’t read his expression, but there was no hiding the determined gait of his forward motion and in the swing of his arms. He was furious. The rain was a transparent shield that would do nothing to save her.
She waited on the perimeter of the forest because she couldn’t very well run and leave the girl to her fate.
When he was just close enough, Verda called out. “We’re here.”
He shifted direction at her voice, sending a shot of relief through her. “What the devil are you—” Mr. Oshea stopped. “Lady Docia?”
“She’s hurt. Her horse threw her and ran home. I happened upon her,” Verda said in a rush.
His jaw tightened. “I’ll carry her. Run to the house.”
Verda nodded and dashed for the portico, her cloak no match for the maelstrom. By the time she’d reached the open door and stepped into the foyer, she was soaked and frozen to the bone, her teeth chattering. She didn’t abandon her post, however. “Mrs. Knagg, towels, please.”
Mrs. Knagg nodded and hurried away.
Seconds later, Mr. Oshea entered the hall. The young girl he carried was beautiful and would be extraordinary in another few years.
“Why were you riding your horse in this weather? You know how dangerous the moors are?” Mr. Oshea was chastising her. Verda followed them into the library. He set her down gently. “Does your father know what you were about?”
Her eyes flashed with fury, but she quickly lowered them and picked at her skirt.
Verda shot him a glare. She went to the girl and assisted her with her sopping cloak with shaking fingers that were so cold, they were numb.
“I’ll do it,” Mr. Oshea said brusquely, pushing her icy hands aside.
Mrs. Knagg entered and Verda took the stack of towels from her.
“You best bring tea,” she told the woman, then turned to the girl. “Are you hungry, Docia?”
“It’s Lady Docia. My papa is a viscount.” She smoothed her gloved hands over the skirts she’d picked at. “Yes. I’m famished.”
Ah. A little empress solidly aware of her station in life. Almost. While Verda was a mere baron’s daughter, and she had rarely attended social events, it was common knowledge that a viscount’s daughter was addressed as a ‘miss.’ The fact that no one corrected her was confusing at best, but now was not the time for such questions. “My pardons, Lady Docia. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. I am Miss Fairclough. Master Noah’s governess.”
“The pleasure is mine,” the little peeress returned primly.
Verda hid a grin.
The tenacious Mr. Oshea cleared his throat. “I asked you a question, young lady.”
“And, you—” He pointed at Verda, his chest puffed out with the deep breath he’d inhaled.
She braced herself for the coming annihilation but couldn’t quite suppress her chattering teeth.
Just as quickly as he’d breathed in, his chest deflated with a sound exhale. “Go. You’ll catch your death. We shall talk later.”
Verda threw her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and strolled out as if she were queen, despite the chill coating her skin.
Thunder roared outside that could hardly be heard over the heavy rain lashing the windows.