Chapter 25
Nicholas arose to the feeling of someone tapping him on the face.
“Nicholas, Nicholas,” a small voice kept repeating, and Nicholas wondered if he’d woken in a madhouse.
When he blinked his eyes open, he turned to see Olivia, bouncing next to him and tapping him. When he saw her, she smiled.
“You were sleeping.”
“Yes, I was. And so should you be.”
“I want to see Tim.”
Nicholas turned on his side to face her.
They were in his room, for she refused to sleep on her own, and instead, the servants brought her small bed to Nicholas’s large room instead.
It was where they’d been playing, drawing pictures and eating biscuits until Olivia’s eyes had fluttered closed, and they had both fallen asleep.
Now, he’d been awoken with a hand to the face, but he was pleased to see Olivia happy enough and not looking pink with fever.
“Very well. We shall go peek at Tim and then we shall have breakfast. You like breakfast, don’t you?” he asked with a smirk as he rose and stretched.
“Yes!” she cried, hurrying to the door.
He raced after her through the door and grabbed her before she reached the step, squealing as he did.
The sound cut right to his heart, and he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he carried her up the steps toward the nursery.
He wasn’t sure if a child’s laughter had ever filled those halls before, and it felt like something brushed just a few shadows from his heart.
However, as they neared the nursery, both of them grew a little solemn.
It was quiet, and Nicholas swallowed, fearful that Tim might not have recovered in the night.
He knocked softly, and when Cordelia answered, his heart ached at the sight of her. She looked tired and drawn and pale.
“Is he well?” he asked in a low voice.
“Much the same; however, he is not worse,” she said with a fleeting smile. I am hoping by this evening that there will be some change.”
“Did you sleep?” he asked. She shook her head. “Cordelia, you must sleep a little. It will keep you from falling ill too. Mrs. Browning can watch Tim while you sleep. Or let me watch over him.”
She said nothing, only smiled at Olivia. “Tim will get better, Olivia? See? He is still resting.”
Just then, Tim made a fretting sound, and Cordelia rushed to his side. He started to cry, and then Olivia’s face crumpled.
“Tim. I want Tim!” she cried, tears coming down her cheeks as she tried to squirm out of Nicholas’s arms.
“I know, dear, but Tim must rest. Cordelia, I will send breakfast up.”
He closed the door and took a crying Olivia down the stairs. It hurt him to separate them, but he feared for Olivia if they let her spend any more time with Tim.
“We shall have breakfast, and then we will go outside. Look at the lovely day!” he pointed out of one of the windows as they went down the steps, and she wiped her tears, sniffling a little.
“We can play?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Yes, as long as you like.”
She laid her head against his shoulder. “You won’t go?” she asked, and Nicholas felt like an utter cad for any time he’d left and for any time he tried not to let anyone into his heart. It had been an impossible task and a foolish one.
He rubbed a hand over Olivia’s back. “No, I won’t go,” he said, a firm resolution growing inside him.
They made their way to breakfast, and with a little more distraction, Olivia was able to eat and then go outside to play. They played together a while but then, she was content enough to play with a few toys in the grass while he sat in the garden.
Mrs. Wright brought him a tea tray, and he asked, “Mrs. Wright, could you please send for my wife? I should like Mrs. Browning to watch Tim while Cordelia rests. I hope that she has eaten some of her breakfast?”
She grinned at him. “No worries, Your Grace. Anna and I have been able to wheedle her into a bath and then her bed after her getting a few bites of breakfast in. I also brought her a tray of tea. And I shall be taking young Olivia for a bath soon enough.”
They both looked to Olivia, whose hair was slightly wild, and she had a patch of dirt on her cheek.
“Bless you, Mrs. Wright. My wife does not like to take my advice on the matter of her health.”
Crinkles formed at the corners of her eyes as she smiled at him, her hands folded in front of her. She had been the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother, even if he had kept her and everyone else at arm’s length. She at least knew what his home had been like all his growing up.
“A woman never does like to be told what to do, Your Grace. You shall learn that soon enough.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m learning that very well, indeed. Although I wish there was a way for me to tell her that I do it for her, that I order her about so that she will be safe and happy and not neglect herself.”
He noticed the soft expression on Mrs. Wright’s face as she listened and then poured him a steaming cup of tea and handed it to him.
“Your Grace, I believe she knows that. A woman only wants to know that she is her own person, in charge of her own destiny, and has her own power. It does not mean that she doesn’t believe you care.”
Nicholas swallowed hard, feeling again like an utter cad. Was it possible Cordelia believed he cared for her? Truly?
“If you must know, Mrs. Wright, I have done my very best to tell her that I do not care, not more than I am capable of.”
She nodded with a little smirk. “Yes, I know. If I may speak boldly?” she asked.
“Please.” He took a sip and felt the warmth of the tea spread to his tired muscles, a little nervous about what she would say but too tired to stop her. In fact, he knew he needed to hear some truth.
Leonard spoke the truth yesterday, why should the pattern not continue?
“You were always a sensitive boy, knowing and feeling the feelings of others before they even said a word.” Tears filled her eyes.
“Your father tried to make you feel as though that was a bad thing. But it is your great strength, and I know you have worked hard to push it away, to push people away because he blamed you for your dear mother as well as this ‘weakness’. But when you brought our lovely duchess home as your wife, I saw a change in you. There is life and hope in the house again, Your Grace. Laughter too.” She grinned.
“I am happy for you, for I can feel the care you have for your new family, even if that care frightens you to death and even if you are unsure of it. Let the love come. You deserve it, you know. After all these years.”
Nicholas let out a long exhale, amazed at his housekeeper’s stark advice.
Yet it felt so right to hear it, to let it sink in.
Those musings had been niggling at his brain for some time, but he could never have brought them to the light without at least some help.
It was safer to hear the words from someone else than to admit them to himself.
“Thank you, Mrs. Wright,” he said genuinely. “I think I needed to hear that.”
“You enjoy your tea, Your Grace. I will take Lady Olivia upstairs for a little while.”
“Oh, would you deliver a message to Cordelia’s family for me?” he asked. “I think they should like to come and assist if they can. Perhaps then, Cordelia can get even more rest if they should like to stay and help.”
Mrs. Wright beamed. “Of course, Your Grace. I will send for your writing implements.”
She went to gather Olivia, and while the young girl hesitated at first, Mrs. Wright expertly found a way to encourage her, and soon they were gone, with Nicholas left on his own to drink tea in the garden and listen to the birdsong.
After a few more sips, however, he got up, pacing, feeling restless while he stared up at the windows on the side of the house. Somewhere up there, his wife was resting, and Tim was resting, and there was nothing he could do about Tim’s illness but wait.
He brushed a hand through his hair and stood, hands on his hips, staring out into the garden.
He took a breath. Things looked different in the light of the morning.
After he’d begun his work at the gambling den, he’d hardly had enough time to spend at his own home, and his garden had been neglected by him.
However, the gardeners had kept it up nicely, and he remembered how Mrs. Wright had always told him just how much his mother had loved the garden.
Once his father passed, Nicholas had made sure to instruct the gardeners to bring it life again, but he hadn’t the courage to spend much time in it himself, feeling as though every corner was haunted by the shadow of his mother, and his guilt for her death would only hang more heavily upon him.
What does Cordelia think about the garden?
He knew she had often sat outside with the children or alone, sometimes scratching away into a notebook. However, they’d never discussed how she felt about it. He suddenly found he was desperate to know her thoughts on the matter, and he hoped that she liked everything about her new home.
Even me.
He took another shaky breath. Utter fool.
He knew that she seemed glad to have him there while Tim was sick, that she needed comfort, but after his embarrassing display after their night together and the fact that he was so delayed in reading her urgent notes, he feared there was no hope for him now for her to think him anything other than the rake and rogue he had so intentionally and sometimes unintentionally forced her to believe he was. He was terribly ashamed.
Mrs. Wright had always been kind to him, and he was glad to hear what truth came from her lips, and yet it also felt dangerous to believe it.
Turning back to the house to look at Cordelia’s window, he wanted nothing more than to set himself free.
Free to love her as she ought to be loved, free to love the children with his whole heart, and yet something still held him back.
His father’s voice rang in his head once more.
Useless. Weak. No one will want you, boy. Not even your mother could stay to be with you.
He was glad for the interruption of a footman bringing his writing box.
Sitting down, he first wrote a note to Darren, letting him know that he would not be in the gambling den for a little while.
He also hurriedly wrote a note to the dowager viscountess and sent it on its way.
Glancing once more at the bright, sunny garden, refreshed after a day of rain, he turned back toward the house, not yet ready to linger in the past nor forge ahead into the future.
A few hours later, the viscountess along with Emma and Danae arrived, practically rushing in through the sitting room door when the footman opened it.
Nicholas was playing with Olivia on the floor, which had been scrubbed clean, and was enjoying herself greatly.
They’d just seen how Tim was faring, and the twins had burst into tears again at the sight of each other.
But soon enough, once playing again, Olivia’s smile had return.
Turning, they saw a bright-faced viscountess looking at them with surprise at where they sat on the floor.
“My lady,” Nicholas said, rising, surprised at the little color he could feel coming to his cheeks. “Thank you for coming.”
“Forgive us. We were not at home when the message first arrived,” she explained, a little furrow between her blonde brows. “Or else we would have come as soon as we could.”
“But we are here now. What can we do?” Emma asked.
Danae peeked around her mother and, with a bright smile, she walked toward Olivia, who seemed delighted to see her.
“Well,” Nicholas began, unsure himself why he had called upon them, and he realized right then and there that it was the first time in a long, long time that he asked for help.
Normally, he might have felt some shame, but seeing them there looking at him expectantly and with kindness, he just felt relieved.
“You will find us at sixes and sevens. Tim is upstairs feverish, and we have a new nanny, but Cordelia is attempting to do everything herself. She was persuaded to sleep, at least for a little while, and I am here with Olivia.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I think…I would like some help.”
At that very moment, a child's cry came from upstairs, and Olivia looked up from where she played. It had been like that off and on for the whole of the day.
He sighed, and the viscountess smiled, reaching out to touch his arm.
“We are so very glad to help you. For you are family now, Your Grace. I am very experienced with running a household when sick children are about! Come Emma. Danae, you stay with Olivia. We shall go to the sickroom and relieve the nanny or find a rebellious Cordelia overtaxing herself. Your Grace, you may take your rest as well, if you like.”
He shook his head. “I will stay here with Olivia. But I will ask for Mrs. Wright to set a few more plates at dinner.”
They all left the room but for Danae and Olivia, and when they parted ways at the stairs, he said to the viscountess and Emma. “You may call me Nicholas, Lady Valeton. As you said, we are family now.”
She beamed at him. “Then, you shall call me Fiona. Come, Emma. We have that sister of yours to tame.” Together, the two ladies rushed up the steps, and Nicholas’s gaze followed after them, feeling now, as though everything was going to be all right.