Chapter Sixteen #2
Apparently, he was not meant to escape this place without that feckin’ doll.
Not unless he wished to be rude and show his arse.
Since this woman knew Merry, he didn’t want to do that and bring down embarrassment upon his wife.
At least now he knew the bairn was a wee lassie.
“Wrap a fine ribbon around the box, aye? I’ll be taking it with me. ”
“Excellent choice!”
Choice, my hairy arse. He’d had no choice, but he tipped a polite nod and dropped a few coins on the counter. “Will that cover it, then?”
“Indeed, it will, my lord. Thank you.” She slid the beribboned box toward him, then clasped her hands under her plump chin. “And again, it was such a pleasure meeting Lady Merry’s fine husband. Mr. Mettlestone and I think the world of her.”
“A pleasure to meet ye as well.” Tucking the gift under his arm, he made a hasty retreat, not breathing easy until he was comfortably back in the saddle. Now on to the inn to clean up, get the directions he needed, and pay a much-needed visit to his wife.
*
After the lad tending the front garden of the modest manor house took charge of his horse, Duncan went to knock on the front door, but it opened before his knuckles hit the wood.
The tall, thin man who Duncan assumed was the butler eyed him expectantly but didn’t speak.
“Lord Kirkston,” Duncan said. “Lady Merry’s husband.”
The servant sprang into action, opening the door wider and ushering him inside. “Welcome, Lord Kirkston. Do come in. May I take your things?”
Duncan divested himself of his hat and gloves but kept hold of the box containing the doll, keeping it tucked under his arm as he entered the parlor. While he longed to set eyes on no one but Merry, to play this game properly, he needed to visit with the Wakefields first.
“Kirkston! Good to see you again,” Wakefield said as he charged into the room. The man was in even brighter spirits than the last time Duncan had seen him. “Here to see if we’ve locked away your wife and plan to keep her permanently?”
Duncan forced what he hoped came off as a snort of amusement. “My diary was clear for the next several days, so I thought to come and visit. Congratulations on the wee one and the good health of yer wife.” He awkwardly held out the box. “A gift for the lassie.”
Wakefield beamed at him as he accepted the parcel and placed it on a table. “Thank you. Our little Abigail is amazing. We are simply besotted with her.” He went to the cabinet in the corner and drew out a pair of glasses. “Care for a drink?”
“A whisky, if ye have it.”
“A whisky it is.” Wakefield filled the glasses and handed one to Duncan.
Duncan lifted his glass. “A toast to Miss Abigail and all the joy she brings with her.” The irony of his words was not lost on him. Here he stood, toasting another man’s child and their joy and happiness when he wasn’t even brave enough to seek out that joy for himself.
Wakefield clinked his glass to his, downed the dram, then refilled them both.
“I fear it’s just us for now. Sweet Felli is taking a much-deserved nap, and your lovely wife is in the nursery trying to convince my daughter that nights are for sleeping and days are for being awake.
The latest nurse did not work out at all, and the replacement isn’t due to arrive until tomorrow or the next day.
I don’t know what we would have done without your Merry. ”
Even though he knew it would seem strange, Duncan simply had to see her. He couldn’t stomach another moment sitting in the parlor with a man so feckin’ happy that it was nauseating. “Might I go up to the nursery, then? To see the babe? And let Merry know that I am here?”
Lord Wakefield appeared mildly surprised, but Duncan doubted if anything on earth could wipe that silly grin off the man’s face. “Of course! How rude of me.” He set his drink aside, snatched up the box containing the doll, and started toward the door. “Come. Follow me. I’ll take you up.”
Duncan hurried after him, an equal mix of excitement and dread thrumming through his veins. Merry would know exactly why he was here. She was not a fool. But how angry would she be?
Then the sweetest music came to him through the partially opened door at the top of the stairs. It was Merry softly singing.
Wakefield thrust the box into his arms and pointed, whispering, “You go ahead. I shall return to the parlor and give the two of you some privacy.” With a look that said he knew entirely too much about Duncan and Merry’s situation, he offered a sympathetic nod, then turned and quietly returned downstairs.
Duncan stared at the door, mesmerized by Merry’s gentle crooning. After a hard swallow, he eased it open and stepped inside.
Sunlight flooded the room, casting its golden glow on Merry and the wiggling babe she cradled in her arms. It was the most heart-stopping sight Duncan had ever seen, making it impossible to breathe.
He had never witnessed her so happy, so serene, as she smiled down at the softly fussing child and sang her happy, lilting song.
He stood there, rooted in place, unable to move.
This place was too good for him. He should never have come—not after denying the woman he loved more than life itself the one thing she had always dreamed.
Just as he eased back a step to leave her in peace with her joy, the wooden floorboards creaked, and she looked up. Her eyes locked with his.
“Duncan?” Confusion filled her face and, dare he hope, perhaps a little happiness at seeing him? “Why in the world are you here? Parliament is still in session.”
“Parliament means nothing to me.” He tried to wet his lips. Damn, his mouth had gone dry as dust. He wished he still had his whisky in his hand instead of this feckin’ doll. Suddenly remembering the ruse, he held it up. “I brought a gift for the wee lassie.”
Merry’s face lit even brighter. “How very sweet. Open it for her.” She smiled down at the wiggly infant as she gently rocked and bounced. “Little Miss Abby has gone a bit fractious on us these past few days and decided to give her poor mama no rest at all. Perhaps a gift will make her happy.”
Duncan very much doubted that the china doll would have such a miraculous effect, but who was he to argue? He untied the ribbon, tossed aside the lid, and held the box so Merry could see the doll.
Moving closer, Merry angled the babe toward the box. “Look what a lovely dolly Uncle Duncan brought you. Wasn’t that thoughtful?”
The little one growled like a wee beastie.
“I dinna blame her,” Duncan said. “I told that infernal woman the doll was not a proper gift for a new bairn.”
Laughing softly, Merry resettled the babe in her arms. “I fear nothing would please Miss Abby at the moment. She is most petulant for some unknown reason.” With a bouncing walk, she strolled around the room, trying to appease the unhappy babe.
She glanced back at him as she returned to the window and the beam of sunshine.
“Would you like to tell me why you are here, other than to give your new niece a gift that you do not like?”
“I miss ye.” He resettled his stance, feeling as though he’d just placed his neck in the noose. “The feckin’ house is like a tomb without ye there.”
Miss Abby cut loose with an infuriated yowl.
Duncan jumped, fearing the child had taken a sudden turn for the worse. “Is she all right? She sounds as though she hurts.”
“Oh my goodness,” Merry crooned while repositioning the baby up to her shoulder and rubbing the little one’s back. “She must have a touch of the colic. No wonder she is so unhappy. Her belly hurts.”
“Well…do something. Make her feel better.”
Merry snorted a laugh. “And what do you suggest I do, Uncle Duncan?”
“I dinna ken.” He threw up his hands. “Just make her not hurt.”
“Here. You try.”
Before he realized Merry’s intentions, he found himself holding the squirming, red-faced infant. He tried to hand her back. “I dinna ken a thing about babies. Take her back.”
Merry backed away, folding her arms and shaking her head. “Hold her close and support her head. She needs to feel safe.”
Breath held, Duncan cradled the infuriated wee one closer, shifting her to lie on her belly on his chest and hopefully rest her head on his shoulder.
She did not. Instead, she reared up like a sea beastie rising from a loch, arching her little back as her head bobbed and bounced from side to side.
He cupped her head in his palm, trying to keep her stable.
“Be still now, lassie. Be still. Dinna hurt yer wee neck.” He scowled at Merry. “Why can she not hold up her head?”
With the smugness that only a woman could possess, she smiled. “She is too young. That is why you must support her head. Cuddle her. Let her know that you care.”
“Here now, wee one, do ye wish to look out the window?” Duncan gingerly bounced his way across the room as he had seen Merry do. “Is this any way to greet yer uncle who’s come all the way from London to see ye?”
The baby’s cries softened to hitching growls but didn’t stop. Every so often, she would unleash another enraged growl.
“Keep talking to her,” Merry said. “She sounds calmer.”
“Calmer?” Duncan snorted as he turned the babe toward the brightness of the window. “Yer Auntie Merry’s gone barmy in the head, wee one. Ye dinna sound calmer to me.”
Her growls diminished to an irritated grumbling, and she actually rested her head on his shoulder.
He gently rubbed and patted up and down her back.
She rewarded him with an impressive belch and snuggled even closer.
“Well done,” Merry said. “That air was hurting her.” Appearing more than a little impressed, she directed him to the cradle beside the window. “You can lay her down now, if you wish. She is probably ready for a nap.”
Not quite ready to relinquish the warm little bundle that seemed to have taken a liking to him, Duncan remained in place. “I think I should hold her a wee bit longer in case there’s more air to be gotten out of her.”
“I see.” Merry drew close enough that her scent of lilacs washed across him. “I believe she likes her Uncle Duncan.”
“Aye, well…” He didn’t know what to say about that.
“I missed you too, you know.”
His heart beat faster with renewed hope. “Did ye truly?”
She nodded. “Truly.”
“I am sorry, Merry.”
She arched a brow.
“For everything.” He wasn’t quite brave enough to relinquish his position on having children, but he was close. “I hate what I have done to us.”
“What shall we do about it?”
“I dinna ken,” he said softly.
Disappointment fell across her like a shadow. She reached for the baby. “Here. Let me take her. I’ll put her in her cradle. She needs to sleep a little while before it’s time for her feeding.”
Reluctantly, he let her take the wee one, drawing close as she placed her in the cradle and tucked the blankets around her. “She’s naught but a sliver of a thing, is she?”
“By Felicity’s counting, she came a little earlier than expected.” With her focus locked on the baby, she shifted with a heavy sigh. “But she is healthy and doing well. As is Felicity.”
“I am glad.”
“I am too.” She squared her shoulders, stepped away from the cradle, and led him out into the hallway. “Will you be returning to London today?”
His heart fell. Once again, he had saddened her. “I had thought to stay a few days. To visit.”
“I told you I would return,” she said with a sharpness that felt like a slap. “I always keep my word.”
“I missed ye,” he repeated. “And those words dinna do justice to how I truly feel.”
She studied him for so long that he wanted to squirm, then she slowly shook her head. “Whatever shall we do about this impasse, Duncan?” she sadly whispered. “Will it always be this way between us?”
“I dinna like the way that we are, lass,” he said just as softly. Then he forced the words out before he lost the courage to say them. “I will try to change.”
She narrowed her eyes as if she either didn’t believe him or hadn’t quite heard what he’d said, but she didn’t comment.
Instead, she merely turned back toward the nursery door.
“I need to sit with the baby to ensure I hear her when she awakens. Felicity was up with her all night. I don’t wish to disturb her until time for Abby to eat.
” She twitched a disheartened shrug. “I can help with everything except feeding her, and they have yet to find a suitable wet nurse.”
Duncan nodded. She had as much as dismissed him, and how could he blame her? “I have a room at the inn. I can stay as long as necessary.”
And he would be staying. As long as it took to convince her that he intended to tear down this horrid wall between them.