How to Manage a Marquess (16 page)

“Stephen.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry.”

He looked at her as if she'd told him not to breathe.

“I will tell you something that doesn't reflect well on me, I'm afraid. When my father and I were in the carriage coming here, I was arguing with him about his attachment to your mother. I accused him of forgetting
my
mother, who died many years ago, before you were born. And he said that he had room in his heart for more love.”

Stephen shrugged. “For Mama and the new baby. Not, perhaps, for me and Edward.”

“And you know what else? I was jealous when we arrived and he rushed upstairs to the nursery immediately.”

“He wanted to see Mama.”

“Yes, but I think he also wanted to see you. He'd got you presents, remember?”

“My papa would get us presents, too, when he wanted to make up to Mama.”

Stephen was a very difficult child to reassure. And it was true she didn't know for certain how Papa and Mrs. Eaton would behave once they were wed and had a child between them. But she would try to calm Stephen's fears.

“Your mama loves you, doesn't she?”

Stephen shrugged. “Yes, but Uncle William and Aunt Olivia say she's not very strong-willed.”

This boy needed to stop listening to the loose-lipped adults around him. At least, at Davenport Hall, he'd be spared a good bit of that. She would suggest to Papa this Hedlow person not make the move to the Hall. She did not sound at all suitable.

Not that it was any of her concern—

“You said your mama stood up to your father when he beat you. It must have taken a lot of courage to leave him and come here. I think she must love you very much and will always look out for you.”

“I don't know . . .”

She squeezed his shoulder. “And I will be there, too, you know. I am not afraid of anyone. You need only come to me if you have a problem. I'll help you.”

Stephen's eyes grew large, and he picked up the last bit of seedcake, which she took to be an encouraging sign. “But why would you help me?”

“Because you will be my brother, Stephen.” She smiled at him. “I've always wanted a brother or a sister.”

“Really?” He grinned—but the grin faded quickly. “But you won't be there.”

“What do you mean? Of course I'll be there. I live at Davenport Hall.”

“But you won't much longer.”

She'd be alarmed if his words made any sense. “Where will I be?”

“Hedlow told Arthur that even though you were quite old and on the shelf, your father would manage to get rid of you somehow.” He took a bite of seedcake and so far forgot his manners as to speak around the crumbs. “She thinks he'll persuade Uncle Nate to take you.”

“I'll take Miss Davenport where?” a deep voice asked.

Anne looked over to see Lord Haywood standing nearby, holding a little boy's hand.

Chapter Eleven

Miss Davenport turned an interesting shade of red and ignored his question.

“Cake!” Edward squealed. “I want cake, too!” He dropped Nate's hand and ran over to Stephen, who obligingly gave his little brother part of his seedcake.

“Miss Davenport,” Stephen said, “this is my brother, Edward. He's five.”

Nate had been rather worried when he'd heard Stephen's voice and then Miss Davenport's. He'd not been able to make out the words at a distance, but he'd hoped Anne was being kind, even though she'd no particular reason to like Eleanor's boys. Still, he thought it possible she'd take some of her displeasure with her father's betrothal out on Stephen. He'd hurried over, making poor Edward run to keep up with his long strides.

“Good morning, Edward,” Miss Davenport said. “Do sit down. There's more seedcake in this basket if you'd like some of your own.”

“Huzzah!” Edward plopped down right next to Miss Davenport and leaned against her so he could look in the basket, too.

“Edward!” Stephen said quite sharply. “Sit back. You are crowding Miss Davenport.”

“But I want cake, Stephen.” Edward looked up at Anne with large, beseeching eyes. “
May
I have some cake, Miss Davenport?”

“Of course,” Miss Davenport said, smiling down at Edward without any sign of offense at his behavior. “But you and Stephen should call me Anne. We are going to be brother and sister, you know.”

She gave Edward some cake and then turned to Nate.

“Would you like a slice of seedcake, too, my lord? Or perhaps some bread and cheese? Or this meat pie? I've hardly used my plate, so you may have it.” She winced slightly and blushed. “As you warned me, I'm not terribly hungry this morning.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” He should say more, but the sight of Anne with the two young boys was doing odd things to his heart.

Where the
hell
had that thought come from?

He pushed it aside and sat down on the corner of the cloth that was spread out on the ground. “Bread and cheese would be splendid.”

“Uncle Nate can have my plate, Miss”—Stephen paused—“A-Anne. I'm done with it.”

“Thank you, Stephen,” Anne said, “but you might want some more cake.” She smiled.

“Well . . . yes.” Stephen bit his lip. “
Could
I have a bit more?”

Anne laughed and handed Stephen another slice.

The boy must have a hollow leg. He ate constantly and yet always looked as if he were on the verge of starvation.

“Are you certain you wouldn't like this meat pie, Lord Haywood?” Miss Davenport asked then, glancing at him as she filled his plate.

“Well, if you insist, I suppose—”

“You should call him Uncle Nate, too, Miss Anne,” Edward said suddenly, halting his seedcake's progress to his mouth so it was suspended in midair, “since you're going to be our sister.” The cake completed its journey.

Anne's cheeks flushed as she dusted some crumbs off her skirt. “Oh, no. I couldn't do that.”

“Why
do
you call Lord Haywood uncle, boys? He's not your mother's brother.”

“He's our Uncle George's friend,” Stephen said, “and Mama's friend, too, for as long as she can remember. Isn't that right, Uncle Nate?”

“Yes. I—”

“Oh!” Edward's eyes widened as if he'd just thought of something important. “Wait! You can't call him uncle, Miss Anne.”

“Edward!” Stephen frowned at his little brother. “That's the second time you've interrupted Uncle Nate.”

Edward shrugged—clearly he was young enough that
his
spirit had not been dimmed by Eaton's violence. “But I just remembered, Stephen. Mama never called Papa uncle and she doesn't call Miss Anne's papa uncle either.” He turned to Miss Davenport. “Mamas call papas by their first names, so you should call Uncle Nate just Nate, Miss Anne.”

Anne almost dropped the plate she was handing him. He grabbed it just in time to keep the cheese and bread from tumbling all over the ground.

He put the plate down quickly. His grip wasn't rock steady either.

And the worst of it was, his first thought at Edward's words hadn't been about the begetting of a child, but the raising of it, of sitting like this in the morning sun with Anne and their sons and daughters.

“Yes,” Anne said, “except I'm not marrying Lord Haywood, Edward.”

“Hedlow says you are.”

Miss Davenport scowled at that, but seemed almost immediately to notice Stephen stiffen, because she smiled at the boy as if to reassure him.

Nate felt his heart soften even more at her continued kindness to Eleanor's too-serious, sensitive son.

Yes, I'm in
very
deep trouble.

“I'm afraid this Hedlow person is mistaken, Edward. Isn't that right, Lord Haywood?”

“Er, yes.” He felt a stab of what could only be disappointment.

“Did you and Edward come looking for us, my lord?”

Thankfully, Miss Davenport had the good sense to change the subject.

“Yes.” Nate smiled at Stephen. “Edward came to me when he couldn't find you in the nursery, Stephen.”

Edward paused in licking the last cake crumbs from his fingers to send his brother an accusatory look. “You left me.”

“You were still asleep. I thought I'd be back before you woke up.”

Edward looked up at Miss Davenport. “I went to Uncle Nate's room to see if Stephen was there, Miss Anne, and I had to bang very hard on the door because Uncle Nate was still asleep!”

“And I wanted to stay asleep, you young rascal,” Nate said, ruffling the boy's hair.

“I'm sorry Edward woke you, Uncle Nate.”

Blast it, Stephen was always apologizing. He was too afraid of giving offense. That blackguard Eaton had much to answer for.

“It was nothing, Stephen. I'm usually awake at that hour. I just didn't sleep very well last night.” Because he'd kept thinking of Anne and the unlocked door connecting their rooms.

“Surely your governess knew where Stephen was, Edward,” Anne said. “You did tell her where you were going, didn't you, Stephen?”

Stephen shook his head. “Hedlow was asleep when I left.”

“Arthur stayed over last night,” Edward added in a helpful tone. “Hedlow always sleeps late when he's there.”

Miss Davenport tried to muffle her gasp, but she wasn't entirely successful.

“And who is Arthur?” Nate asked. He did not like the sound of this. He also didn't like the fact that Stephen had suddenly frozen in what looked very much like fear.

“One of the footmen.” Edward wrinkled his nose. “He snores.”

“Does your mother know about Arthur's overnight visits?” Miss Davenport asked.

“Hedlow made us promise not to tell. She said—” Edward's eyes opened wide and he slapped his hand over his mouth. “I just told.”

“It will be all right, Edward,” Stephen said, his voice shaking slightly. “Uncle Nate and Miss Davenport won't tattle.” He looked anxiously at Anne and Nate. “Will you?”

Good God!
Fury momentarily blinded Nate. “You and Edward don't have to be afraid of your governess, Stephen,” he said—and stopped when he saw Stephen flinch at the anger in his voice.

“Lord Haywood is right, Stephen.” Anne's tone was soothing. “Neither he nor I will let this person hurt you, but we must tell your mama. I'm quite certain she'll take steps immediately to, ah, address the situation once she knows of it.” She turned to Edward and hugged him. “I'm so glad you told us. You did exactly the right thing.”

Edward wrapped his arms tightly around Anne and buried his face in her chest.

Zeus, he was losing his mind . . . though it felt rather as if he was losing his heart. Thank
God
this house party was only a week long. The sooner he got back to London and sanity—and away from temptation—the better.

“You'll really talk to Mama?” Stephen asked.

Miss Davenport smiled at him over Edward's head. “Well, I shall likely talk to my papa and he'll talk to your mama.”

“I'll have a word with your mother directly, Stephen,” Nate said. Davenport might support the governess's removal, but this was Eleanor's responsibility. “Tell me, what did Hedlow threaten to do if you reported her behavior?” Hedlow . . . the name wasn't familiar, not that he'd felt a need to keep abreast of Eleanor's employees. “She's a new governess, isn't she?”

“Yes,” Stephen said. “Winkie—Miss Winkleson—left last month. Her mother wrote that the man Winkie had wanted to marry years ago had come back from the West Indies a widower, so Winkie rushed off to try her luck again. She didn't give Mama much warning. Mama wrote to someone in London, and they sent Miss Hedlow.”

“Hedlow doesn't like the country,” Edward offered, having finally let go of Miss Davenport to search the basket for more cake. He emerged with a handful of crumbs.

Stephen nodded. “Until she discovered Arthur, she complained all the time about how dull everything here is compared to Town.”

“But how did she threaten you?” Anne asked, returning to his question. “What was she going to do?”

Stephen looked surprised. “She never said exactly.”

“She just said we'd be sorry,” Edward said.

Hollow threats, then, though if the woman knew the boys' history—and she must—she'd know that would be enough to keep them silent.

“She said it in a very nasty way. And she cackled just like a witch!”

“Witches aren't real, Edward,” Stephen said with just a touch of superiority.

“If they were real, Hedlow would be one.” Edward's lower lip protruded in a slight pout.

Stephen nodded. “Yes, you're right about that.”

“Well, she'll be the one who will be sorry now,” Anne said, with suitable relish. “I suspect your mama will send her packing at once.”

“Oh.” Stephen paled. “She'll be very angry.”

Nate frowned. Unfortunately, Stephen was likely correct. Both Hedlow and Arthur were sure to lose their positions. It would be best if the boys weren't in the woman's charge again.

“Do you suppose you two can play truant today?” he asked. “We could row across to the island and show Miss Davenport the folly.”

“Could we?” Stephen's face glowed with excitement. “Edward and I have wanted to see it forever.”

That was odd. It wasn't as if the boys had just arrived at the Manor. “Why haven't you?”

Stephen shrugged. “Winkie didn't like the water, and Mama was too sad to ask for a long time. And neither of them could row a boat across the lake anyway. We didn't want to bother Uncle William.”

“I don't think he could row a boat, either,” Edward said. “He's old.”

There was no point in suggesting a footman might have been enlisted to do the manual labor. Clearly, the adults here had not been focusing enough on the boys' interests.

As, it suddenly dawned on him, he hadn't considered Miss Davenport's. She'd been very kind to the children, but that didn't mean she wished to spend several hours, if not the entire day, with them.

“Forgive me for assuming you'd be part of this adventure, Miss Davenport. Of course, you don't need to accompany us, if you'd rather not.”

“Oh, but I'd like to.” She smiled at Stephen and Edward. “I've been wanting to see the folly ever since Lord Haywood pointed it out to me yesterday.”

Miss Davenport really was a capital girl. She certainly made it seem as if she was completely delighted by the proposed activity.

“Huzzah!” Edward jumped to his feet. “Let's go.”

Oh, hell. Stephen's brow was furrowed again. “Mama will be angry if she looks for us and Hedlow doesn't know where we are.”

This Hedlow woman could not be sent back to London fast enough in Nate's opinion. “I will send a note to your governess and to your mama, Stephen.”

“But why will you say we've gone off?” Stephen chewed on his lip. “Hedlow is sure to guess we've blabbed about Arthur.”

“She will think no such thing,” Miss Davenport said, smiling at Stephen as she started to pack up the hamper. “She knows your mother is marrying my father. It makes perfect sense that you would seek me out and wish to spend some time getting to know me.”

“Y-yes.” Stephen nodded. “I-I guess you're right.”

“Of course Miss Davenport is right,” Nate said. And brilliant. She'd come up with the perfect excuse before it had occurred to him. “Let's take this hamper back to Mrs. Limpert and see if she'll kindly refill it with rather heartier provisions so we can take it with us to the folly. While she's doing that, I'll jot those notes.”

* * *

Anne walked with the boys and Nate—she'd call him that in her thoughts, at least—down the path through the woods to the boathouse.

No, it was safer for her heart to stick to
Lord Haywood
. Being here with the boys made this excursion feel far too much like a family outing, and Lord Haywood was never going to be part of her family. Hadn't he told her that in so many words after he'd kissed her last night? Clearly her charms, such as they were, hadn't been enough to tempt him to change his mind about matrimony.