Chapter 8 #2
But the viscount was rescuing her sister, and was being saddled with her mother. Meriel couldn’t presume that he would accept sisters into his household as well.
And how could she leave Stephen? Every day the questions he asked filled her teacher’s heart with joy. She loved sharing her knowledge with him. If she ever left him, she would have to make sure he was in capable hands other than her own.
Because she didn’t trust his father. It all came down to that. Something was wrong in this household, and it wasn’t just her worry about her physical reaction to the duke.
He cocked his head. “I didn’t think you would abandon my son easily, Miss Shelby. But London is a city that lures people to remain.”
“You think a city would induce me to remain, after I had given my promise elsewhere?”
“If not a city, then your family.”
He was too close to her own thoughts. “No, Your Grace. I will be gone four days. That is my promise to your son.”
Meriel excused herself and left him, striding angrily up through the mansion, wanting only her bed so that she could pound her pillow in frustration at the feelings she couldn’t understand. Nurse Weston was just leaving Stephen’s room in the nursery, and closed the door behind her.
“He had a wonderful time,” the nurse said in a soft voice.
Meriel nodded.
“And did you enjoy yourself?” the nurse continued.
Meriel glanced at her with suspicion. “I watched over the children along with many governesses. I was working.”
“I thought perhaps His Grace would….”
When she didn’t finish, Meriel faced her and sighed. “Nurse Weston, whatever His Grace plans to do with one of the servants, it will not be with me. He has not chosen me for…for anything except as governess to his son.”
Nurse Weston arched a brow. “I only seek to warn you, but his Grace most certainly is thinking about you.”
This was too close to what Meriel saw in his eyes, so she only shook her head, remaining silent.
“Did you know he was waiting to escort you outside early this evening?”
“That can’t be true—Stephen and I waited in the carriage for twenty minutes.”
“And he was waiting in the entrance hall for twenty minutes—for you.”
Meriel swallowed heavily and leaned back against the wall. “Oh, heavens. Why would he do such a thing?”
The nurse only shrugged, but her expression spoke clearly.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m leaving for a few days,” Meriel said. “Maybe he’ll be so lonely that he’ll choose someone else.”
But Nurse Weston didn’t look convinced.
~oOo~
After Miss Shelby had left for London, Richard thought Thanet Court seemed…
quiet. He hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed catching glimpses of her throughout each day.
He buried himself in his subtle work to rebuild the finances of the estate, but that was difficult and tedious, when he kept having to pretend he wanted to learn what to do.
Stephen seemed unusually quiet the first day, and on the second, he reverted to the wild boy he’d been before Miss Shelby had begun to tame him. Nurse Weston came to Mrs. Theobald with her concerns, and she in turn came to Richard.
Richard stared at the housekeeper, who stood near his study door without coming fully into the room. There was a watchfulness to her that made him uneasy, and he’d been avoiding her as much as he could. Of all the servants, she’d been at Thanet Court the longest, and knew both Cecil and him.
“What would you like me to do about Stephen?” he asked. “The nurse should be able to handle this.”
“Your son is lonely, Your Grace, and lately he has enjoyed your interest in him. Surely that wasn’t just because of Miss Shelby herself.”
“No. I know I have not been the best father.”
“Then have luncheon with him today. He usually eats with Miss Shelby, and I think yesterday’s luncheon set him off to a bad afternoon.”
Richard thought about his own childhood in this massive, lonely place. He had been the only child for five years—he knew what Stephen was feeling. Then why did he feel like he was making a mistake?
“Send him to the dining room then,” he finally said. “Perhaps I can also find something for him to do afterward.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said.
She used a cool, professional tone that he did not associate with her. Was she disappointed in him?
After she’d gone, Richard leaned back in his chair and contemplated Miss Shelby—Meriel.
She had a beautiful Christian name, one you could almost put to music.
He remembered the night of the Assembly, how she’d looked in the library after everyone had gone to bed.
Her silk gown had shimmered by candlelight, and her hair had gleamed like gold.
Never before had he met a woman who made him almost stumble over his words, made him forget everything but the thought that he might not see her every day.
She spoke her mind, not caring that he was a duke—that he was supposed to be the duke.
He missed her presence as much as Stephen did.
Was he letting himself be distracted from his true mission, Stephen’s protection?
Right now, Richard was presenting himself as the target.
After all, he was portraying the duke, and if Charles wanted to control Stephen, he would have to manipulate Cecil—Richard—first. Richard was certain that Charles’s first move had been to discredit the duke’s honor. What would Charles try next?
When Richard arrived in the dining room for luncheon, Stephen was already there with his nurse. The woman looked tired and exasperated, and much as Richard would have like to give her time off, Cecil would never think of it. So the nurse had to stay.
“Stephen, what have you been doing since Miss Shelby returned to London?” Richard asked.
“She left me ’ssignments,” he said glumly. “But only she knows how to make it interesting.”
Nurse Weston rolled her eyes, and Richard smiled at her.
She blanched and looked back down at her food, as if he would yell at her.
Meriel would have understood the humor of the situation.
Every sentence out of Stephen’s mouth contained “Miss Shelby” somewhere.
Richard noticed that the nurse was eating quickly, as if she couldn’t wait to leave.
A selection of desserts was brought in on a cart, and Richard chose an apple tart as Nurse Weston turned to speak to the footman.
Stephen leaned closer to Richard and whispered, “You can’t eat that.”
Richard frowned down at his plate, his fork at the ready. “Why not?”
“Father, you don’t like apple tarts, remember?”
Richard stared at the little boy, who glanced at the nurse then went back to his food single-mindedly.
Richard hesitated, a cold feeling of worry settling inside him.
Stephen couldn’t possibly know the truth about his masquerade…
could he? Wouldn’t he have said or done something before now, if he thought an imposter was pretending to be his father?
Richard had the footman take away his dessert, and the boy smiled. Maybe Stephen was just playing a game with him. After all, the boy seemed more restless and fidgety than he’d been since Richard had arrived as the duke. But he had to be certain.
“Nurse Weston, I’ve been meaning to take Stephen fishing at my favorite childhood place. Take the afternoon for yourself.”
Both Stephen and Nurse Weston perked up. The nurse looked tired and hopeful, and the fact that she didn’t hide her emotions testified to how exhausted she must really be.
Richard grinned down at Stephen, who was bouncing with excitement. “But Nurse Weston,” Richard added, “find him some old clothes first.”