Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Lord Byron’s latest poetic endeavor is said to concern Don Juan, the legendary lover. Such a work will surely brighten Byron’s fame, since everyone knows Spanish lovers are the most fiery.
“Th-The monster h-had three heads,” William was sobbing into Mrs. Box’s shoulder when Felicity and Ian hurried into the room, “and a b-big red arm. It was ch-chopping like an ax and ... and ...” His face crumpled as he broke into a low wail.
The mournful sound pierced Felicity to the heart. “Oh, my sweet darling,” she cried, rushing to his bed. She waved Mrs. Box away and in seconds was cradling the boy against her breast. “It’s all right—Lissy’s here now to take care of you. The monster can’t hurt you.”
“Poor dear,” Mrs. Box clucked. “Had a nightmare, he did.”
“Yes.” Harsh, accusing words rose to Felicity’s lips as she sought Ian in the dim room, but they remained unsaid when she saw him standing woodenly inside the door, his hands shoved in his pockets.
Every line of his dusky features bore the marks of guilt.
He met her gaze with eyes so remorseful, she couldn’t be angry.
Besides, she was as much to blame as he, for allowing him to influence her decision. At least he hadn’t known what could happen. She had no such excuse.
“I-It was gonna ch-chop me up,” William whispered. “It was comin’ to—”
“Shh, sweet boy, you must forget all about it. It was only a dream.” Felicity rocked the child in her arms as she crooned in his ear. “It’s all right. I’ll protect you.”
She felt Ian’s eyes on her, reminding her that he’d wanted to speak to her privately. Not tonight, not when her emotions were so easily affected. She cast Mrs. Box a wan smile. “I’ve got William now. I know you have much to do, so you may go on and show Lord St. Clair out.”
Mrs. Box nodded and headed for the door.
“No-o-o!” William wailed, pushing away from Felicity to waggle an arm at the door.
“You want Mrs. Box to stay?” Felicity asked.
“I-I want L-Lord St. Clair,” William stammered.
Felicity groaned. The man had captivated her fatherless brothers as easily as he’d captivated her. Yet she couldn’t send him away when William needed him. “Come here, Ian,” she said resignedly, no longer worrying if anyone heard her use his Christian name.
Looking obviously perturbed, Ian glanced over to where the other boys were settling down beneath covers tucked up to their tiny chins. Then he walked toward her. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted as he reached the bed.
“Sit down.” Felicity nodded to indicate the other side of the feather mattress. “Hold his hand or something.”
“I’ll be leavin’ now—” Mrs. Box began, and before Felicity could protest, had deserted her.
With a quiver in her belly, Felicity watched the door close behind the housekeeper. The dim lighting and confined space lent an intimacy to the nursery she’d never noticed. Having Ian help her with William was cozy and oddly satisfying.
Ian, however, seemed uncomfortable. Clasping William’s pale hand in his own dark one, he stared at it as if it were a padlock to which he’d lost the key. “I’m here, William,” he said, surprising her with the gentleness of his voice.
A shudder went through William’s small frame. He lifted his tear-streaked face to Ian. “It was a monster.”
“I know, but it’s gone now.”
“It wasn’t real,” Felicity added, annoyed that Ian spoke as if the creature existed.
“It was real!” William protested with a pout. He fixed his gaze on Ian. “And ... and it’ll come back to h-hurt me.”
Shooting her a warning glance, Ian said, “No, it won’t. We scared it off for good, me and Mrs. Box and your sister.”
“Yes, but it’ll come back,” the boy persisted. “It wants to ch-chop me up. Like it chopped up all those people in The Separate Room.”
Amber candlelight caught Ian’s stricken expression. He ruffled William’s hair. “I tell you what. I’ll stay here for a while, and if the monster comes back, I’ll tell it not to bother you any more. I’ll be very firm.”
The boy’s face brightened. “You ... you mean, like you told that nasty driver not to bother Lissy? And he listened and went away?”
“Yes,” Ian said solemnly. “Exactly like that.”
“You promise to stay until he comes? You promise?”
“I swear it,” Ian said with a fierceness that warmed her heart.
Felicity held her breath while William screwed up his little face in thought. Then tugging Ian’s hand into his arms, he clutched it against his chest and sank back against the pillow. “All right. The monster’ll listen to you. You’re big, and you can beat him up.”
She watched in bewilderment, then envy as William closed his eyes, with Ian’s hand held tightly to his heart like a precious toy. Within moments, she could hear the blessed sound of even breathing and see his features relax into sleep.
Tears stung her eyes. How many times had she assured him it was only a dream, yet been unable to calm his fears, having to wait until he exhausted himself with crying before leaving him? Yet Ian came in here with his commanding presence and calm assurances, and William felt safe.
She’d known the boys missed Papa, known that they often ran to Joseph for attention because the footman was the only man in the household.
But until now she hadn’t realized the full extent of their longing for a man’s special strength.
Her poor, fatherless tin soldiers. She wiped away tears, but more filled her eyes, coursing down her cheeks to drip off her chin and onto the wrinkled sheets.
“I’m sorry,” rumbled a voice from the other side of the bed. “I am so sorry, Felicity. You were right, and I was wrong. I should never have taken them into that damned room.” Her throat tightened when she saw him brush the hair back from William’s forehead in a paternal gesture.
“It’s not that. This probably sounds foolish, but you made him feel better when I couldn’t. I guess I’m a bit ... jealous.”
“You’ve no reason. It’s my fault he suffered in the first place. I ought to be shot.”
Strong words indeed, coming from a man who generally hid his emotions. Her heart twisted when she saw the pain harshening his already rough features.
She tried to tease him out of his somber mood.
“Shot? Oh, no, much too tame.” She glanced at the other boys, who were thankfully already asleep, then added, “The punishment should fit the crime. Beheading, that’s what you need.
Then we could add your head to those stakes in Madame Tussaud’s exhibit. ”
His gaze shot to hers, mirthless and even more wounded.
“I’m joking. You mustn’t blame yourself. You couldn’t know how he’d react.”
“But you did.”
“What do you expect? I’ve lived with him all his life.
” She kept her tone light. “Besides, you probably never had nightmares yourself and had no idea what could bring them on. I imagine you were like Georgie, able to sleep easily after the most frightening adventures. William has an active imagination, I’m afraid.
” She gave a shaky laugh. “He tries to be as tough as Georgie, but never quite succeeds.”
Ian said nothing for several moments, fixing his gaze on William’s chest, which now rose and fell in perfectly contented sleep. Then a world-weary look flitted across Ian’s face. “I never had adventures, frightening or not. So I never had nightmares.”
She caught her breath, barely suppressing her excitement.
He was talking to her about himself instead of evading every subject.
Eager to seize the rare moment, she exclaimed, “No adventures! Every boy has adventures. Surely you must have run wild in the woods or sneaked away to a bear-baiting or something.”
“No.” He took a great, shuddering breath.
“I was a very ... dutiful son. I was never allowed to be anything else. Father believed that heirs should be ‘prepared’ for their responsibilities at a young age, which meant not indulging them in frivolities. So there were no wild escapades in the forest, I assure you. My mornings and evenings were spent with a tutor, and my afternoons with my father, who took me over the estate and made me memorize all the tenant’s names and how everything worked. ”
What a dreadful way to spend one’s childhood. She’d never considered this aspect of being a great lord, but with extensive property probably came extensive duties. “Is that why all the lords run so wild when they come to London? Because their fathers are such hard taskmasters?”
“Not if I’m to judge from what Jordan has told me. My father was unique. I suppose I should be grateful for it, since his ‘preparation’ has been useful in my management of Chesterley. But once in a while ...” He trailed off.
“Once in a while, you would have enjoyed an outing or two.”
He managed a smile. “I sound like a spoiled child.”
“Or a man who never got to be any kind of child at all.”
His gaze shot to hers and held. For that brief moment, she read so much yearning in him that she marveled she hadn’t seen it before.
Then in that manner he had of shielding himself, he flattened his expression and glanced away.
“It proved advantageous. It enabled me to endure ... later happenings more easily.”
His tone warned her not to pursue the subject further.
It took all her effort not to ask him then about his aunt, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing up such a dark subject.
On the other hand, she could at least take this chance to learn more about him.
“What about your mother? Did she agree with your father’s philosophy? ”
He was silent so long she began to think he might not answer.
Then he sighed. “Who knows? She never said. She feared crossing him. They married because Father needed her fortune to pay off my grandfather’s debts.
It was arranged between him and her family in Spain.
She was terrified of Father and let him rule her life—and mine—until the day she died. ”