Chapter Two #2
She motioned to the housekeeper, and Mrs. Chauncey walked over to the folding screen, reached behind it, and produced a chamber pot. “We keep one in every room.”
Pippa glanced at Millie, who sighed. “I was in the carriage and did not see what occurred, though I did hear the report of the blunderbuss—”
Dark brows narrowed over crystalline blue eyes as Lady Phoebe glared at Pippa. “Please tell me that you did not shoot Flaherty!”
Pippa bolted to her feet, fighting to hold on to her composure.
Twisting her hands together, she walked over to stand in front of the baroness.
She did not need to see the woman’s expression to know that she was angry.
Pippa bowed her head and quickly confessed, “We have been traveling since the middle of the night, to… Well, that’s not important at the moment.
” She glanced at Millie, who nodded, encouraging her.
“We were making good time, until I hit a rut in the road and the carriage wheel broke.”
“And where does Flaherty fit into all of this?” the baroness asked.
“I was trying to see if the wheel could be repaired, when Flaherty rode up. He startled me. I reached for the blunderbuss, turned, and aimed it at him.” A tear escaped as Pippa rasped, “I had to protect Millie and Roarke. He could have been sent by…” She trailed off, afraid to say too much at once.
“I understand the need to protect someone you love—I have done so more than once myself,” the baroness murmured. “Now then, tell me what happened next?”
Pippa nodded. “Flaherty started firing questions at me. I think he saw through my disguise.” The baroness raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak, merely motioned for Pippa to continue. “When I did not answer quickly enough, he started walking toward me… I backed away from him and lost my footing.”
The baroness sighed. “Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, and letting my worst fears take hold of me. I am normally able keep a level head, unless it involves my husband, my brothers, or the men in my brother’s guard—they are like family to me.”
Pippa was about to continue, but Millie interrupted, “I heard the report of the gun. If Pippa said she stepped wrong, you can believe that she did. She is normally an excellent shot, we both are, having accompanied our fathers’ hunting parties many times over the years.”
Wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, Pippa cleared her throat and found her voice. “I did not realize my hand was still on the trigger when I landed on my bottom.” When the baroness did not immediately speak, Pippa rushed to add, “You have to believe that I did not mean to shoot him.”
The baroness’s tone was cool when she asked, “If you had meant to shoot him, what would you have aimed for?”
Pippa replied without thinking, “The middle of his chest.”
Lady Phoebe inclined her head. “Exactly what my darling older brothers instructed when they taught me to shoot.” When Pippa did not move, the baroness sighed again. “Do sit down—our tea will be here in a few moments.”
As if on cue, the cook swept into the room, followed by two footmen carrying the accoutrements for tea. Millie’s soft gasp had Pippa smiling and the baroness asking, “Is something amiss?”
“Millie has a weakness for scones,” Pippa replied. At that moment little Roarke whimpered, before letting out a wail.
The baroness smiled. “I have heard that cry before when my niece and nephew were brand-new babes. He’s hungry.”
Millie nodded and glanced around the room. “I’m afraid I am still getting used to feeding Roarke.” She hesitated, shifting her gaze toward the folding screen.
Pippa had a feeling her friend was uncomfortable, feeling exposed in their surroundings. A quick survey of the room revealed an alcove with two wing-backed chairs facing one another. “I believe Millie needs a bit of privacy. Do you feel strong enough to stand?”
“Yes,” Millie replied. “I think Flaherty, Garahan, and O’Malley wanted Roarke and I out of the chill as quickly as possible. Otherwise I would have walked.”
“They are very solicitous of myself and their wives—well, except for Flaherty, as he is not married. I am not surprised O’Malley carried you inside,” the baroness remarked before turning to ask one of the footmen to move the screen to cordon off the wing-backed chairs from view.
The two men retreated after setting out the tea and moving the screen.
“Now then, do you need my help?” she asked.
“I think we can manage, thank you, your ladyship,” Pippa answered. Once she had her friend settled in one of the upholstered chairs, Pippa placed the shawl over Millie’s shoulder, adding a layer of warmth for her babe, and the extra privacy she knew her friend needed.
Millie reached for Pippa’s hand. “Thank you.”
Love for her friend twined with worry that Millie’s brother-in-law was hot on their heels.
Had he discovered their direction? How many hours did they have before the man came after them?
She squeezed Millie’s hand and smiled when she heard the snuffling sound Roarke made whenever he latched on to his mother’s breast. “Shall I bring your tea to you now?”
Millie released Pippa’s hand. “After he’s finished. Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened to us if not for your quick thinking when the vicar’s niece came to warn that my brother-in-law was searching the village for us.”
“He will not touch one hair on Roarke’s head, nor yours,” Pippa vowed. “You have my word on it.” The tension on her friend’s face relaxed, as Pippa hoped it would. “Call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
When Pippa resumed her seat, she lowered her voice to tell the baroness, “I have no experience with babes or new mothers, but I do know that Millie seems more at ease when she has privacy to feed her babe. Thank you for thinking of the screen, your ladyship.”
“My sister-in-law was the same way, when she first delivered her babes. I teased my brother that I was certain Persephone carried twins when he made an offhand comment about how large her belly was—without thinking how emotional Persephone would be.”
Pippa covered her mouth, but not before her laughter escaped. “Forgive me. It is not a laughing matter. Millie became more sensitive, her emotions volatile, while she was expecting.”
When Mrs. Chauncey asked if she should pour, Lady Phoebe declined. “I can manage, thank you.”
Once the housekeeper left, the baroness poured two cups of tea.
In the quiet the women heard Millie softly whispering to her babe as his snuffling and suckling got louder.
The faraway look in Lady Phoebe’s eyes as she placed a hand on her belly had Pippa wondering if she had placed herself—and Millie—beyond the pale by helping her escape from what they both believed was an intolerable situation.
Millie needed the protection of a strong man—not that she would admit it, because the heartache of losing her beloved husband was still too fresh.
Though the last thing Millie needed was a brute of a man snatching her babe from her! Pippa vowed not to let that happen.
Pippa knew she would be considered a pariah if word got out that she’d disguised herself as a coachman and dragged Millie and her babe to parts unknown immediately after the birth.
She was certain that Trentchester would twist the truth around to suit him.
The blackguard would definitely leave out how Pippa had helped thwart his bid to take his brother’s son to raise as his own.
Trentchester was a bully who equated money with power.
He was not of the aristocracy, instead using his money to take whatever he wanted.
It was no secret that he had three mistresses, one wife, and not a single heir.
Personally, Pippa thought it was God’s way of punishing the man for trying to get himself an heir to his fortune—even one born on the wrong side of the blanket—despite the embarrassment it would have caused his poor mouse of a wife.
Once her father returned home and heard the tale of what happened, Pippa doubted he would ever find a gentleman willing to come up to scratch and offer for her hand.
After the string of men Papa had received offers from—which she had refused, for one reason or another—he had threatened to marry her off to two of his elderly, widowed contemporaries.
She shuddered at the thought of being wed to the cadaverous Lord Hinchman or the overweight Lord Ives.
“Are you chilled?”
Pippa blinked and shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind. “Er…no. I was woolgathering.”
“Unpleasant thoughts, then,” the baroness said. “I have had to learn how to conquer mine.” When Pippa waited for Lady Phoebe to continue, the baroness shook her head. “It is a long story for another time.”
The sound of a gurgling belch had Pippa and Lady Phoebe laughing and a flustered Millie saying, “He cannot help it—”
“Please do not apologize,” the baroness said. “I am used to hearing that particular sound. If one’s babe does not burp, the alternative is quite distressing for the babe and the mother.”
“I’ll be right there, Millie. Don’t get up!” Pippa rose to go to her friend. When she stepped around the painted screen, she reminded Millie, “You are always so tired after you feed little Roarke. Lean on me.”
When Millie was settled once again on the settee with her babe sleeping in her arms, the baroness asked, “Did I hear correctly, that your babe is only a few days old?”
“Yes, your ladyship.” Millie glanced at Pippa, who shook her head.
As if she sensed there was quite a bit more to the tale of how Pippa, Millie, and her babe had arrived at Summerfield Chase, the baroness said, “I won’t press you for the details until and unless there is a chance that someone has caused you to flee from your home.
If that is the case, we must alert the men at once with a description.
They need to be on the lookout, or else they will not know who or what to expect in the way of an unwanted visitor or possible attack. ”
With Millie on the verge of tears, Pippa answered, “It’s Millie’s brother-in-law.”
“Grant Trentchester,” Millie added. “He has made his fortune in shipping, and thinks himself equal to those who bear a title.”
Pippa snarled, “His character is reprehensible—there is not one honorable bone in Trentchester’s body! He would never have threatened his brother’s pregnant wife otherwise!”
Millie bit her bottom lip.
“Has he threatened you?” the baroness asked softly.
Millie nodded. “Yes.”
“Physically or emotionally?”
Incensed that her dearest friend had been under threat by her dead husband’s brother, Pippa bit out, “He threatened to take Millie’s babe—no matter if it was a boy or girl!”
The baroness’s face darkened. “Did he assault you?”
Millie’s mouth moved, but couldn’t form the words. Her lips were trembling.
Pippa saw Millie’s discomfort and replied, “He said he needed to speak privately to Millie, who agreed. I was in the other room and heard Millie cry out. If I had known how black his heart was, I would never have left her alone with him.”
The baroness hesitated, then asked, “Will you tell me what happened?”
Millie grimaced. “He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the room.”
“How long ago was this?”
“A fortnight ago,” Millie whispered.
“Unconscionable!” Lady Phoebe cried out.
The sound of heavy footsteps approaching had the trio of women staring at the door. The loud knock was followed by a gruff voice. “Phoebe? Is Mrs. Trentchester feeding her babe, or may I come in?”
“Marcus! Yes, she is finished, thank you for asking. Please come in—we need you.”
The door opened, and Pippa was momentarily distracted by the tall, broad-shouldered man who strode into the room, pulled the baroness into his embrace, and kissed her tenderly.
“I’m here. How can I help?” Lady Phoebe leaned against her husband, who turned toward Pippa and Millie. “Please introduce me to our guests.”
“We’re interlopers,” Pippa mumbled.
“Nonsense,” the baroness said. “Marcus, meet Mrs. Millicent Trentchester…er, Millie to her friends…and her babe Roarke. He’s but a few days old.”
“I did not realize he was sleeping,” the baron said. “I’ll lower my voice.”
“Forgive me for mortally wounding Flaherty. It was an accident!” Pippa blurted.
“And her very good friend and sometime coachman, Miss Phillipa—Pippa—Stanhope.” Before the baron could speak, the baroness added, “Truly, it was an accident, Marcus. She stepped wrong and fell—”
“I have already had the tale from Flaherty himself. By the way,” he replied, turning to look at Pippa, “Flaherty was concerned that the women and babe he rescued were warm enough and had been fed. He seemed to think it had been early this morning when last you ate. Is that true?”
“Yes, your lordship,” Pippa replied.
“We did not want to be a bother,” Millie said. “Tea and scones will be more than enough—”
“Stuff and nonsense,” the baron grumbled.
“I have seen the way my wife’s appetite—and that of O’Malley’s wife, and Garahan’s wife—has increased dramatically.
All three women are eating for two, and as a new mother, I understand you need extra nourishment as well.
I have been well tutored in the matter from my sister-in-law, the duchess—and the wives of the other men in the duke’s guard via the letters that arrive weekly.
It is quite a bit of correspondence. I shall send for a proper meal for you ladies.
I expect the three of you to have finished eating every last scone and drained that teapot by the time I return with a meal that will give you the strength you’ll need. ”
When no one moved, the baron added, “Is that understood?”
“Yes, Marcus,” Lady Phoebe said, brushing a kiss to his cheek before stepping out of his embrace. “Now do stop ordering us around.”
Pippa noticed the way the baron stared at his wife for a moment before shaking his head. “Do you have any other orders for me?”
The baroness laughed softly. “Only that you find out what that delicious, savory scent wafting from the kitchen is, and when it will be ready to eat!”
The baron lifted his wife’s hand to his lips, then turned it over and lavishly kissed the palm of her hand. “Your wish is my command, Phoebe my love.”