A Prince for Aunt Hetty (12 page)

And then they were off. In spite of the exertions of the day, it took Hetty a very long time to fall asleep.

Chapter Nine

R
UPERT STOPPED FOR
a moment on his trek through the woods. Overnight the snow had fallen in thick drifts that now blanketed his garden and the woods that separated him from Hayes house.

He held his breath, stilling his own noise. The snow muffled all sounds of life. To Rupert, it sounded like he had covered his ears with his hands and was hearing the world through his own flesh. His heartbeat sounded louder and louder in the silence. He listened to it for a moment before he had to draw another breath.

With this breath he let out a heavy sigh. He'd been unconsciously doing that all morning. Even the prospect of seeing these woods with snow for the first time, a sight he had been looking forward to painting, couldn't distract him from what had happened the day before with Miss Masters. He was afraid he'd made a complete mess of it. But he didn't know how to make it right. He should probably destroy the painting. Even that painful act seemed better than the feeling of having Hetty angry at him. What was more important? The art or her feelings?

Rupert hadn't thought that way before, placing emotions next to his art. He'd always painted and sketched his subjects as interesting specimens to examine. For a year in his youth he had painted nothing but the face of a girl named Fanny. The lines and shades of her skin had drawn his artistic interest. He'd appreciated her beauty but had been startled one afternoon when she tried to kiss him. So the idea that now he was the one who wanted to kiss his subject worried him. What he felt with Hetty was more than just an appreciation of her interesting beauty. But what exactly was it?

Wasn't it the normal thing for old men like him to be attracted to youth? To want the strength and innocence and virginity of a young woman? He'd seen it happen all around him as his middle-aged friends married young girls of seventeen and eighteen. And Rupert supposed he could be persuaded to join that game. He had a good pension, after all. And he fancied that he wasn't a bad looking man. Surely there would be some young woman who would have him. And they might have a nice, quiet life together.

But really? He'd left London, after all, without taking a wife. And he'd not thought anything about it since leaving.

Not until Hetty, that is.

Well, Rupert caught himself, maybe marriage was jumping too fast into his feelings for her, but he was intrigued in a way he hadn't been by any woman of his acquaintance so far. A woman of London who seemed completely at her ease here in the country. He desired to know her more, not just as a subject on his canvas.

But he had made a mess of it. Rupert sighed again and began to walk toward Hayes house. He was terrified to have his fears realized and anxious to learn his fate. To go or turn back? With each step he asked himself the question, until the decision was made for him and he was halfway up the drive toward the house. Better to get it all over with than to be petrified with wondering what she might say.

Before he could knock, the butler opened the door.

“Welcome, sir.”

“Thank you.” Rupert stepped inside and began to remove his coat. “I should say you had some kind of extra sense, Mr. Sylvester, you opened that door without my even knocking.”

The butler flashed him a cryptic smile that startled him. The butlers Rupert had dealt with all his life had no facial expressions to speak of. “You were expected, sir, and the children gave me express instructions to wait by the door and watch for you.”

“They couldn't watch for me themselves?” Rupert chuckled.

“There was some pressing game that needed playing, sir, so I volunteered for the position.”

The household must have heard his arrival because there was a stampede of feet running down the stairs accompanied by shrieks of hello. From the direction of the parlor, Mrs. Hayes stuck her head out and called for him to come right in, they had all just settled in for the afternoon and he should join them without delay.

The children grabbed his hands and pulled him forward, chattering happily to their new friend and to each other. He was greeted in the parlor by a friendly scene. A fire burned high in the fireplace and they had saved him a chair close to it. Rupert shook Hayes' hand and sat down opposite him. Refreshment was in his hand before he'd even had time to settle into the chair.

He greeted the ladies, too, careful to observe Hetty. She was all politeness toward him, but not a hint of anything else. His heart felt heavy in his chest.
Did I only imagine there was something else in her eyes when she looked at me yesterday?

“Thank you again for having my little demons to your house yesterday,” Hayes said with good-humor in his voice.

“You are very welcome. I hope they enjoyed themselves,” Rupert replied.

“They very much did,” Hayes said. “Indeed, they are, as you hear them, very loud and still chattering on about all the fun things they did yesterday.”

Rupert laughed. “Well, I was glad to have them. That house can sometimes seem very big. Some children running around will do it – and me – good.”

“So you are all alone there?” Hayes questioned. Rupert had the feeling the ladies were listening as well from their place on the sofa just behind him.

“I am.”

“I expect it's quite peaceful.” He winked. “Not like in this house.”

Rupert gave an embarrassed smile. With Hetty listening, he wanted to choose his words carefully. “Very quiet. Almost too much so, at times.”

“I would be happy to send my children to disturb your peace anytime you'd like.”

“They are welcome any day and time,” Rupert offered.

“That's very kind of you, Henderson. But don't let
them
hear you say that or they
will
take you up on it. Then you will have to subject any of your guests to the comings and goings of an adopted family.”

“That will be no issue at all, Hayes,” he said. “I don't plan on having any guests.”

“None whatsoever?” Hayes' raised his eyebrows in question.

“None that I expect.”

If possible, Hayes' eyebrows rose higher on his forehead. “Not even family to disrupt your solitude? Or perhaps the company of a lady?” The last was whispered overly loud and accompanied by a very unsubtle wink.

“No,” Rupert confirmed, hoping the dim light from the fire served to hide his blush. He had never really thought of that. Mistresses were for younger men who had time and energy and money for that sort of thing.

“Oh,” Hayes dampened his humor. “I am sorry to hear that you have no family.”

“No matter,” Rupert said. He knew the man meant well and was merely joking with him. “My father and mother are long ago gone.”

Silence fell between them as both men pondered life and death in that moment of pause that always follows the discussion of loved ones who have died.

“And no lady to embroider all the cushions in your house or complain that she is too cold or that the soup was not quite right at dinner last night?” Hayes asked, now clearly also aware that Hetty and her sister were listening to their conversation.

“None, sir.” Rupert's humor returned. “I was never rich enough or handsome enough to deserve a wife. And even if I had, I doubt any woman would have put up with me for long.”

“You give women too little credit, Henderson. I make sure to smile at Agatha once a week and that seems to be all she needs.”

Mrs. Hayes gave a loud huff of protest behind them. She muttered something that made both women giggle. A pang of loneliness stabbed through Rupert's heart so hard he almost clutched his chest. He liked his life of solitude and quiet here in the country, but he did sometimes miss the company that was so readily available in town. It was a paradox. When he was there, all he wanted was quiet. When he was here in the country, he wished sometimes there were people about. And to be in this domestic scene as a visitor also hurt. It was true, he had no family left and no prospect of creating such a scene for himself. Most days this didn't bother him, but it suddenly hurt to think of what he had missed.

“But,” Hayes continued, bringing Rupert back into the conversation, “I thought you were a London man. Surely some distant acquaintance will impose upon you when they take it in mind to rusticate. Why do you think we let Hetty come and stay?”

Another loud snort from where the women were.

“I am a London man, Hayes, you are right. But my friends all seem to have other places to rusticate if the need arises.

Hayes nodded in acceptance. “And I suppose you need a copious amount of solitude in order to do your work.”

“My work?” Rupert was taken by surprise, tinged with a bit of panic. Did they know about yesterday? Had Hetty told them about the painting? He supposed the children had said something about their adventure, but he hadn't considered that that would include revealing that he was a painter or that he had painted Hetty.

Apparently, Mrs. Hayes could no longer remain an observer to their conversation. She exclaimed, “Oh yes! Your secret's out, Mr. Henderson!”

Both men looked around their chairs toward her. Rupert's eyes went immediately toward Hetty. She was looking intently at the needlework in her lap.

“My secret?”

“Oh yes, yes,” Mrs. Hayes enthused. “My children came home raving about all the fun they had at your home yesterday, including something about getting to paint. I hope they didn't ruin anything.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Hayes,” Rupert replied. “It was all a happy accident that they found the room, but I was glad to make them happy.” Hetty kept her head down. He wished she would look at him.

“And Hetty confirmed to me that the paintings she saw in your studio room were quite good, perhaps even some of the best she'd ever seen.” Mrs. Hayes threw the words at him as if they were nothing more than a statement of fact. But to Rupert they were much more. It appeared that Hetty hadn't told them exactly what she had seen in that room. And then to hear that she thought his paintings were among the best she'd seen. He stared hard at her, hoping she would look up and give him some clue to her thoughts.

Mrs. Hayes continued talking. “Hetty told us your portraits were uncanny in likeness. I should like to see them sometime. And Jonathan and I would like to know if you would paint a portrait of our dear children.”

He was concentrating so intently on Hetty that it took a moment for him to realize what Mrs. Hayes had said. “A portrait?” he repeated.

“Yes, Henderson,” Hayes piped in. “We have some portraits of the older children, but we haven't done one of all six of our little hellions yet. Would you do us the honor?”

“Of... of course,” Rupert agreed, still a bit stunned by the past few moments. “But would you like to see my work?”

“Hetty tells us it's splendid. And I trust her much more than I trust myself. She is, after all, the one who lives in London and knows what all the new talent is,” Mrs. Hayes chattered happily. Her trust made a refreshing change from his usual clients who demanded very exactly what and how he would paint.

Within a few minutes it was settled that Rupert should paint portraits of the children in whatever style he thought best and for whatever price he would name. It was the easiest transaction he had ever conducted. For someone else, he might have taken advantage of this freedom to put a high price on his time and resources. But for the Hayes family, he was happy to do it. Indeed, he might do it for free.

An idea occurred to Rupert. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes?” Hayes' eyebrows climbed high on his forehead again. Rupert noted the quirk for the future.

“I would like to strike a bargain with you.” He paused and they waited. “What if I do the portrait for free --”

“Oh, we couldn't let you do that,” Mrs. Hayes protested.

Rupert held up his hand to stop her. “Hear me out,” he grinned. “What if I do the portrait for free, but you let me use the children in some of my other paintings.”

They considered his offer. Rupert added, “I would let you approve everything. But I have recently had an idea and I think your children would be perfect for it.”

“Well, I can't see anything wrong with that,” Hayes shrugged. Mrs. Hayes nodded her assent.

“Excellent! I don't know why I didn't think of it before. Do you approve, Miss Masters?” Hetty had remained silent the whole time, studiously working on the mending. She looked up, clearly startled to be addressed directly.

“I... uh... I believe it will be fine.” She gave him a lopsided smile, as if she was unsure whether to smile or not. Rupert grinned back, wanting to show his thanks.

“Children!” Mrs. Hayes called across the room to the children who had been running in and out. They stopped now and looked at her. “Come here, please.” With some pushing and shoving, they all gathered around their mother. “How would you like it if Mr. Henderson painted your portraits?”

“Really?” Vanessa asked. She reached up to pat at her hair, as if wondering whether it would do.

“When?” asked Harriet. “Can we do it right now?” The child looked seriously from her mother to Rupert. Mrs. Hayes turned to him and raised her shoulders in a shrug that left it up to him.