More Than a Lover (6 page)

‘We are going to feed the ducks,' Tommy piped up, his face beaming with excitement. ‘Would you like to come with us, sir? It is splendid fun.'

Blade had no trouble reading the desperate hope in the little boy's eyes or the worry in his mother's. She didn't want him to go. In the cold light of day, she was no doubt regretting her weakness in giving in to his importuning. The rejection stung, but it wasn't unexpected. He'd applied his skills of seduction into wheedling her to dance. He didn't even know why he had done such a thing, except he had the feeling the woman had very little pleasure in her life. And that she was lonely. If there was one thing he'd learned to recognise, it was loneliness. And there was nothing like a little flirting to lift the spirits of a lonely widow. Hopefully, the woman had too much pride to cry off.

‘I would love to come with you,' he said to the boy. ‘It is a long time since I had reason to communicate with such fine worthy fellows as a paddle of ducks.'

Tommy giggled.

And thus he would keep his promise to himself that while things were so unsettled he would not let her go anywhere without an escort and unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Ned was off on an errand.

Her lips pinched a little. ‘If you have nothing better to do, then by all means come along.'

Her way of telling him he was neglecting his duties. But she was part of his duties whether she liked it or not. And, if he was honest with himself, a very pleasurable part of his duties.

‘There is nothing more important than filling the stomachs of Skepton's waterfowl.'

‘Nonsense,' Mrs Falkner said, but still, he caught a flash of a smile that said she was amused rather than angry. Pleased, he crouched down to bring his face on a level with Tommy's. ‘And what are these ducks to eat?'

‘Stale bread.' The boy held up a linen bag pulled tight at the neck. ‘It's hard as a rock. I tried some.' He made a face. ‘But Mama says the ducks will like it.'

‘I am sure they will. I will get my hat and coat and meet you on the front step.'

He found them there a few minutes later, Tommy hopping from foot to foot.

Blade offered his arm to Mrs Falkner and his hand to the boy and they strolled towards the High Street. Every now and then the lad would skip a step or two, clearly delighted with the way the afternoon had transpired.

The brisk April wind blowing down from the moors quickly reddened Mrs Falkner's cheeks. The flush made her more tempting than usual. It was the kind of colour he'd like to see on her skin after a night of—

He cut the thought off. He was not the sort of man a woman like her would ever want in her life. Not in that way, at least. It was wrong to even give it a thought. He had nothing to offer other than a casual dalliance. Less than nothing now he'd left the army. Although the woman could do with a bit more pleasure in her life. A bit more splendid fun that did not involve small boys and ducks.

* * *

It did not take them long to reach the village green and they were not the only ones enjoying the air. There was an elderly couple doddering across the grass arm in arm. A couple of young men idling on one corner, smoking clay pipes and trying to look as if they were beaux on the strut. On another corner, a young lass was selling posies of dried lavender. He thought about purchasing one for Mrs Falkner, but decided it might be misinterpreted and send her back into her shell.

The moment his feet touched the grass, Tommy galloped straight for the pond that had a sloping weedy bank. The ducks squawked and shot away as he teetered on the muddy edge. Blade sprinted after him, grabbing the belt on his coat before he could tumble into the frigid water.

‘Steady now, lad,' Blade said. ‘We are feeding bread to the ducks, not small boys.'

Tommy giggled.

His mother arrived, her face panicked, a scold ready to deliver on her tongue.

He shot her a warning look and spoke gently. ‘All is well.' He turned to Tommy. ‘A soldier never leaves his post without permission, young man, and you were on escort duty, were you not?'

Tommy looked astonished. ‘I was?'

‘Indeed. You were tasked with escorting your mother and you left her side.'

Tommy glanced up at his mother, whose face held concern.

‘You won't be doing that again, will you, Mr Thomas Falkner?'

‘No, sir. I am sorry, sir.'

Blade gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Perhaps it is your mother to whom you should be making your apology. She is, after all, our general on this expedition.'

He gave his mother a brilliant smile. ‘I am sorry, Mama.'

‘Then there is the matter of punishment,' Blade continued, keeping his smile in check.

Apparently, not well enough, since the lad looked more intrigued than scared. Most likely his mama usually scolded him to death. But a lad needed more than berating. There needed to be consequences.

He glanced down at his feet, the high shine of his Hessians destroyed by mud that had been enhanced by deposits from the ducks. ‘It will be your job to clean our boots upon our return to headquarters.'

Tommy followed Blade's gaze, took in first his large pair of boots and then his own smaller but far muddier pair. He wrinkled his nose, but straightened smartly. ‘Yes, sir.' His voice was a little less enthusiastic than usual.

‘Excellent,' Blade said warmly and meant it. The little lad needed a male hand in his life, but he was all in all a good boy. ‘Let us find a seat for our general, then see about leading a well-considered attack on the stomachs of our feathered friends.'

Tommy laughed, his spirits instantly restored. ‘There's a bench over there.' He held out his arm like a proper escort. ‘Come along, Mama. We need to get you settled.'

His mother smiled fondly. At them both.

Blade felt an odd pang in the region of his chest.

Idiot.

Chapter Six

T
he day was crisp, and while clouds were scudding across the sky, occasionally blocking what little warmth the sun gave off, they did not threaten rain. A sense of peace invaded Caro's being. Birds tweeted and fluttered about in the shrubs around the pond. The ducks quacked and splashed around Tommy and Blade. And nearby a group of boys were calling back and forth as they played cricket.

Watching Blade teach Tommy to aim his bread to a specific duck made Caro's heart sing. Their boots were getting muddier by the minute and neither of them seemed to care. Blade had been right. Where Caro would have scolded and fussed and ended up with a sullen boy who no longer wanted to feed the ducks, he had discovered a fitting punishment, a manly punishment, and both of them were as happy as grigs.

The boy needed a male role model. One he could look up to. One who would take him in hand. A doting mother was not enough. Her joy dimmed at the thought of someone else being important in her boy's life. Selfish. Wrong.

Tonbridge must have seen the lack, too. It was why he had suggested school. Still, she could not bear the idea of letting Tommy go. He was all the family she had. But if she loved him, she had to think of what was best for him.

‘You would not have to send him off quite yet if you married again.'
Merry's sly suggestion.

Ach, how could she even let such a thought enter her mind? She could not marry. That ship had sailed years ago. A husband would expect to know the details of his wife's past and, unlike expectations for young men, wild oats sowed by a woman were looked on askance by decent people. A lump rose in her throat. Tears she would not shed, though they were never for herself. They were for the harm she had caused an innocent child.

She blinked and discovered Tommy standing in front of her looking worried. Mr Read was almost upon her, too.

She'd been so involved in her own selfish thoughts, she hadn't realised they were on their way back.

Tommy, his face pink from exertion, put a hand on her arm. ‘Is something wrong, Mama?' He glanced down at his filthy boots and rubbed one on the back of the stocking on the other leg. ‘I promise I will clean them.'

She managed a smile. ‘Nothing is wrong, my son. Nothing at all.'

Blade gave her a sharp-eyed glance. ‘Getting cold, are you? The air is chilly. Time for a brisk walk. Once around the pond, ma'am.'

Grateful he had not challenged her about her self-indulgent moment, she rose to her feet. ‘The wind is slightly cool.' She took his proffered arm and they began a steady perambulation with Tommy skipping along beside them.

‘Were the ducks suitably pleased with their lunch?' she asked her son.

‘They have no manners,' Tommy observed. ‘Sometime the bread sank to the bottom and they never even got it, because they were fighting.'

A salutary lesson. ‘Much like people sometimes,' Caro said. One of the reasons she had always dreaded sending her boy to school. She had heard such stories of cruelty. And they would be cruel if his schoolmates ever learned of his background.

Tommy frowned and she realised her words had been a little sharper than she'd intended. Her son was becoming far too sensitive to her moods, for he took her hand. She gave it an encouraging squeeze to let him know everything was all right.

Tommy looked up at Blade. ‘Why don't you wear your uniform any more?'

Blade's expression shuttered. His jaw flickered as if he was restraining words he knew ought not to be spoken. ‘I am no longer a soldier.'

‘Tommy,' she admonished. ‘That's—'

‘It is a perfectly valid question,' Blade said quietly, stopping to face the boy and crouching down to bring himself to Tommy's eye level. ‘The war is over and I resigned my commission. I hope that does not mean we cannot be friends any longer.'

The twinkle in his eyes, his gentleness, warmed Caro to her toes, even though it was directed at Tommy. Only because he was being kind to her son. It had nothing to do with how the warmth transformed his face from stern and fierce to something utterly charmingly devastating. And the clench in her lower abdomen was all to do with her appreciation of his kindness.

Read stuck out his hand.

Tommy shook it with all the aplomb of the gentleman she was trying to bring him up to be. ‘Oh, no, sir,' the lad said. ‘We can still be friends.' He frowned. ‘Don't you want to be a soldier any more?'

‘I do not,' Mr Read said firmly but kindly, rising to stand.

‘Well, I am going to join up the moment I am old enough. Just like my papa. He was very brave. Mama said so.' His gaze dropped to Mr Read's pinned left sleeve. ‘Did it hurt?'

Mr Read's expression froze for a second.

Caro drew in a sharp breath, but before she could speak an admonition, Mr Read answered calmly, ‘It hurt a great deal.'

Tommy grimaced in sympathy. His gaze dropped to the floor. ‘It hurt when I fell and scraped my knee. Mother said I was brave when I let Beth clean it and put a bandage on.' He glanced up with a look of misery on his face. ‘But I wasn't. I cried.'

‘There is nothing wrong with a man shedding a few tears when he is in pain,' Mr Read said, lifting an eyebrow.

Tommy's eyes rounded. ‘Did you cry, too?'

‘I did.'

Caro felt a terrible pang in her heart at his words. But she also felt admiration at his honesty. Not too many men would admit to such a thing to another male, even if he was a little boy.

‘Beth gave me one of her bullseyes and kissed it better,' Tommy said cheerfully, clearly not realising the importance of this manly conversation.

Mr Read gave a low chuckle and something deep in Caro's abdomen tightened when his gaze, full of wicked amusement, met hers over Tommy's head. ‘Nothing like a bullseye and a kiss from a pretty nurse to take away a fellow's pain.'

The man was incorrigible. He was flirting with her. Again. She should be shocked. But she wasn't. She felt breathless and hot.

They arrived back at the bench. Tommy looked around. ‘What shall we do now?'

‘Do you know how to play cricket?' Mr Read asked.

Tommy shook his head.

‘Then it is likely time you learned. Go and watch the other boys over there for a while and see if they will let you join their game. But be honest with them. Tell them you've never played before.'

Tommy looked worried. ‘You won't go anywhere?'

‘We'll stay right here, I promise,' Caro said, sitting down.

Her boy wandered diffidently across the grass and stood watching for several minutes.

One of the lads approached him and said something and the next moment Tommy was part of the game. The lesson Mr Read had taught him while throwing the bread suddenly made sense.

She glanced at him in surprise. ‘You meant that to happen.'

He leaned back against the bench, a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth. ‘I did nothing. It was all up to your son.'

Who right now looked extremely pleased with himself, half-crouching in imitation of the other boys.

‘You would make a wonderful father,' she said, thinking out loud.

He looked startled. Opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it and closed it again. When he finally spoke his voice was casual. ‘He needs the company of other fellows his age, that's all.'

‘So Tonbridge has been saying.'

‘And what is worrying you this fine day?' he asked. ‘Apart from your son.'

Her shoulders stiffened. ‘What makes you say that?'

‘Beth. She mentioned that Cook being ill was one more trouble you did not need.'

Inwardly, Caro let go a sigh of relief. He wasn't talking about her biggest worry. ‘Katy and Flo have been offered permanent employment. They will be leaving us soon.'

‘Surely that is a good thing?'

‘Of course it is, but when they leave at the end of the month the Haven will be empty. Despite our success with these girls, no new ones have come to seek our aid. I thought once others saw how well these girls were doing, more would seek our aid.' She'd even approached some of the girls on the street. ‘This was my idea. It will be difficult to ask Tonbridge to continue to support the venture if there is no need for it. Perhaps we should have located it in a larger town.'

He looked thoughtful. ‘How many women do you have room for?'

‘Up to five, but it depends on whether they have children or not. The more children the fewer places.'

‘Children?' He sounded startled.

‘When women who do not have the support of family have children, they are most often forced to give them up. The children go to orphanages or workhouses. It is very hard for them.'

She glanced at his face and his expression was grim, but when he said nothing she continued. ‘I am not saying that these places are bad, but if a way could be found for the women to support themselves and their children, if that is what they want, I believe it would be...better.'

‘You speak from experience, of course.'

She swallowed a gasp.

‘It must have been difficult when your husband died and left you to struggle alone with a child to bring up.'

She felt weak with relief, but managed to gather her thoughts. ‘If not for Merry's help, I might not have managed.'

‘I think it is one of the best ideas I have ever heard.' Something in his tone made her look at his expression more closely. Beneath the grimness was pain. Had he suffered something similar? She knew little about his circumstances other than he was an earl's natural son. Also that perhaps he harboured some bitterness towards his mother. She opened her mouth to question him and thought better of it.

‘Perhaps if you spoke to the vicar,' he continued as if unaware of her curiosity, ‘he might know of women who are desperate for the sort of help the Haven offers.'

‘I have. Merry has. As has Tonbridge. The Haven is accepted but not well liked among the notables of Skepton. They see it as encouraging wickedness rather than helping those in need. And yet I know there are women out there who are desperate for the sort of help we can offer.'

‘Let me put the word out around the local inns and such, places you cannot go.'

Surprised, she stared at him. ‘You would do that?'

‘Of course.' He gave her a self-deprecating grin. ‘After all, my livelihood depends on the success of the Haven.'

A pragmatic answer, but she sensed it was not entirely the truth, that there was some other emotion beneath the smile. A deeper caring that she might not have suspected if it wasn't for his kindness to Tommy. Beneath the rakish charmer. Beneath the efficient soldier. Beneath the person he showed to the world, there resided a good and kindly man. One she could respect without reservation.

Her heart gave a happy little hop.

As they walked home and he purchased a sprig of lavender to pin on her coat, she knew she was falling for him. Something she had sworn she would never do again.

But this time it was different. He was different.

Or was she seeing only what she wanted to see?

Her son's future relied on her being a respectable woman. Respectable women, even if they were widows, did not engage in flirtations with handsome soldiers.

* * *

‘You did what?' Ned ceased his combing of Apollo's mane, much to the horse's disgruntlement, expressed by the impatient stamp of a hoof.

The well-trained Ned returned to his task, but his expression didn't look any less grim.

‘I said you would join me and Mrs Falkner and the other ladies of the house at the assembly two days hence. You like dancing.'

‘I liked to be asked,' Ned said in his irascible way.

‘I am asking now.'

Ned fumbled in his pocket and came up empty. Blade handed him a lump of sugar.

A grunt was all the thanks he got, but Apollo crunched happily on the offered treat.

‘What are you about, Captain?' Ned glowered at him. ‘She's a decent woman. Not your usual sort at all.'

So that was the problem. ‘I am doing my job, Ned. Mrs Falkner wants to go to the blasted assembly with the other women in the house and it is my job, whether I will it or no, to accompany her.' His very great pleasure to accompany her, he acknowledged to himself. Not something he needed to tell Ned, however. ‘Knowing how much you like to show off your manly attributes to the ladies, I...er...offered your services also. What other motive would I have?' Not a question he should be asking of Ned, who knew him all too well.

‘I see the way you look at her. Like you'd like to gobble her up.'

‘You, my old friend, have bats in your belfry.'

Another grunt.

‘Well, will you do it, or do I have to tell Mrs Falkner what a disobliging fellow you are?'

‘You haven't been to a ball or an assembly since...' His gaze dropped to Blade's mangled appendage. ‘They'll notice.'

‘I have a plan for that. Ned, stop havering and tell me one way or the other.'

‘Yes, damn you. I'll come to your benighted dance as long as that wench Beth is going, too.'

Blade did not admonish him for the use of the word
wench
. Ned was impossibly shy and his gruffness was a form of self-defence. ‘You must dance with all the lasses from this house, not just Beth.'

‘If'n she'll dance with me at all.'

Another male seeking comfort where it would never be offered. ‘She'll dance with you. Mrs Falkner will see to it.'

‘Not the same.' Ned exited Apollo's stall and latched the gate. ‘And another thing.' He sat down on the bench beside Blade. ‘Someone's been asking questions about your Mrs Falkner.'

If only she could be his. Blast, where had that stray thought come from? ‘Who? And who has been giving him answers?'

‘It seems he knew better than to ask them of me, but he collared that varmint of a grocer's boy.'