Nina Coombs Pykare (14 page)

Or perhaps the earl had snared her. From what Edwina had heard so far Lady Catherine hadn’t been at all like her sister. The viscount had said things about Lady Leonore remaining unmarried. Why should the lady turn down all the offers she got? She certainly didn’t seem the kind of person who would consider love necessary for an alliance. She seemed much more like the type—Edwina had seen several of them during her time in London—who married a rich old dodderer for money and waited for the man to die, to leave her a rich wealthy widow. But, Edwina reminded herself, judge not that ye be not judged. It was unfair of her to look for the motives of someone she disliked as much as she disliked Lady Leonore. She couldn’t be at all objective about the woman.

Chapter Fourteen

Charles leaned back on the squabs of the carriage and tried to relax. So the redoubtable Miss Pierce had finally achieved her ends. He was on his way to the seashore with his girls. There was no missing little Constance’s joy about their outing. He swallowed a sigh. He knew Miss Pierce had been right—he’d been neglecting the girls. But Catherine, his lost Catherine, had been so much in his thoughts. Even now if he closed his eyes he could see her beloved face, hear her soft laughter, almost feel her gentle touch on his body.

But he must not think like that now. Time enough for memories later—when he was alone again. Right now he was worried about Henrietta. It pained him to see her so quiet, so sad. She was so like her mother—and in years to come the resemblance would grow even stronger. But he wouldn’t let it keep him from her. He couldn’t—for he had a responsibility to his child—to Catherine’s child—that he must fulfill. He wasn’t likely to forget that now. Miss Pierce had brought it home to him quite forcibly. He stifled a smile. She would no doubt do so again should he forget.

He turned his attention to the new governess. Her face was aglow with almost as much pleasure as little Constance’s. He’d never known a woman, a woman so determined and stubborn, to have so much concern for others. In two short weeks she’d folded his motherless daughters to her bosom and given them the love they needed. Seen to it that he was giving to them, too.

Strange that such a loving woman should be still unwed. She was really not bad looking either. That long black hair was lovely, even though she insisted on pinning it into the chignon, and her figure was quite acceptable. In that new gown that matched her eyes she looked almost beautiful, in a robust, rather hearty way. And with that warm smile on her lips and those great sea-green eyes staring into a man’s, she should have had no trouble at all finding a husband. Especially if she kept her determination undercover.

He tried to remember what he’d heard about her father. A man obsessed with acquiring a title, Charles remembered. Obsessed to the point, evidently, where he’d completely neglected to provide for his daughter’s future. How could a man put so much value on an empty thing like a title? He’d gladly give up his own title, or anything else he possessed for that matter, for the return of Catherine and her love. It’d been months, and he still caught himself believing she would come to him. But he would think about her when he got home.

Constance pulled urgently at his sleeve. If she kept this up, he wouldn’t have any sleeves left. “How soon, Papa?” she asked. “How soon?”

“Soon,” he said. “It won’t be long now. Just be patient.”

Edwina looked to the children. The carriage bounced along the rutted road, but Constance seemed oblivious to it, engaging in a spirited conversation with her father. Casting a glance at Henrietta, Edwina glimpsed wistfulness on her face. Poor Henrietta. Edwina remembered her own futile efforts to get her father’s attention.

Fortunately Henrietta’s case was not as hopeless. Indeed, the earl seemed to love his daughters equally and he had been doing well in veiling the pain that his eldest’s close resemblance to her mother caused him. Time, Edwina told herself, these things took time. Still, it was difficult. Henrietta was in trouble now, in pain now. And she wanted so much to help her.

Edwina looked to the child, sitting so primly beside her. “I like summer, Henrietta. I think perhaps it’s my most favorite season of the year. Do you have a favorite season?”

Henrietta sighed. “I used to like the spring best. The little wild flowers coming up all over. Mama would take us out to the woods, to--” She paused and blinked. “I can’t. I remember too much.”

Edwina pressed her hand. “I understand, dear. Fall is a nice time, too, with the leaves all changing color—reds and oranges and yellows.”

Making a valiant effort, Henrietta held back the tears. “Yes, I like the fall flowers, too, especially the marigolds. They were—Mama’s favorites.”

In spite of the bright summer sun, Edwina felt a chill shiver through her bones. That stone had fallen just as she had been about to pick marigolds—Lady Catherine’s marigolds. For a moment she felt her determination to remain at the castle wavering. What if there a ghost really existed? What if Lady Catherine was angry and had decided to eliminate all the young women who tried to take her place? Who was Edwina Pierce to insist that ghosts couldn’t exist? She felt a constriction in her chest as though a giant hand squeezed her heart. How exactly did one deal with an angry spirit?

Stop that, she told herself. She didn’t believe in ghosts. Didn’t she have, put away in a safe place, a scrap of material from the cloak of the person who had pushed the stone? Surely, ghosts didn’t wear clothing. After all, they were supposed to be ethereal beings.

At any rate, nothing more had happened. So perhaps it had been an accident. Instead of letting her mind dwell on the supernatural, she’d do better to enjoy the summer scenery around them. Constance continued to chatter happily and Henrietta seemed to be relaxing a little, so Edwina could relax somewhat, too.

The closer they got to the ocean the stronger the wind blew, heavy with the smell of salt. It tugged at her hair and she thought about taking off her old straw bonnet. But the presence of the earl restrained her. Also, she couldn’t expect the girls to keep their bonnets on if she doffed her own. So she let hers remain. Still, she couldn’t help raising her face a little, as though to welcome the wind’s touch.

The earl chuckled and smiled at her. “I collect that you like the sea, Miss Pierce.” His smile was as kind as those he bestowed on his children. Strange, as the castle receded behind them, he seemed to change, to relax more and more, to grow younger—and handsomer.

She breathed deeply. “I love it. I wish I could always live by the sea. It has such great beauty, and such mystery.”

The earl nodded. “I, too, am fascinated by it. It has so many moods, like a changeable woman.” His look turned thoughtful and Edwina swallowed a sigh. Was he thinking of Lady Catherine again? Had she been changeable like the sea?

As they drew nearer the edge of the cliffs, Constance bounced up and down on the seat for very eagerness. The earl laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Easy, child. We’re almost there.” He sent Edwina an amused smile that said they shared a pleasant secret. She felt her heart grow warmer. How good it was to see the earl behave as a father should. To see him smile at his children.

The coachman halted the horses and his lordship jumped down. He picked up Constance and swung her squealing to the ground, where she stood, shifting eagerly from foot to foot, barely able to restrain herself.

His lordship turned to Henrietta, who extended her hand for his, but in a surprise movement, he put both hands around her waist and swung her to the ground as he had her younger sister. Henrietta didn’t squeal, but Edwina was positive she saw joy written on the child’s face, even though it was only one brief moment before the old wooden look came back.

When his lordship turned back to the carriage again, there was a look in his eyes that Edwina had never seen before. What a strange look—almost like that of a young boy contemplating mischief. She was still trying to decipher its meaning when his hands spanned her waist, heating through the layers of clothing as though he’d laid them upon her bare skin. The next thing she knew, she, too, had been lifted bodily from the carriage and had her feet set upon the grass.

“We must not play favorites now,” the earl said, looking down at her with a deep chuckle. For several moments he didn’t remove his hands from her waist. That was fortunate in a way, since her knees seemed momentarily to have lost their strength and she wasn’t sure they’d hold her up without his support.

She thought of protesting, but what was she to say? She thought of moving away, but what if he didn’t let loose of her? The girls didn’t know that his helping her was unseemly. And no one—thank God—knew how his touch had affected her.

But her feelings had nothing to do with the earl, not really. They couldn’t. The strangeness of her position, and her new gown—they had caused this uneasiness she felt. Perhaps that kiss from the viscount had set her mind on paths that were better not taken. She must forget all such foolishness. If it pleased the earl to treat her like one of his daughters, surely there was little harm in it. The poor man was sadly in need of cheering up. And he was making an effort with the girls. That meant so much to them. She brushed nervously at the hair that had escaped her chignon and turned to the carriage to retrieve the basket of food.

Charles looked down at the governess. Her cheeks were rosy under that shabby straw bonnet, tendrils of black hair curled around her sweet face, and she looked flustered somehow. He didn’t know why he’d decided to lift her down like that. He hadn’t thought ahead about doing it. It just happened. She looked so happy there, in her new gown, like another daughter, and he’d wanted to see that joy in her eyes that he’d seen in Constance’s.

But he hadn’t meant to startle her, to make her feel embarrassed. Though truth to tell, he hadn’t really been thinking of her as another daughter. He’d just felt younger somehow, more alive. Like a man who would help a pretty young woman down from the carriage.

When he took the basket from her hands, she glanced up at him in surprise, those green eyes wide, but he said, “I’ll carry that.” She smiled then, a sweet innocent smile, and took her hand away from the handle. He turned to the coachman. “Cooper, take the horses into the shade. You may all take a nap.”

“Yes, milord.” It was obvious from the smile on Cooper’s ruddy face that he found this prospect pleasing. He was a good man, Cooper. Always doing his job well.

Constance tugged at Charles’ sleeve. “Oh, Papa, do hurry! Please!”

He smiled down at her. “Patience, little one. The sea will not go away.” He moved them toward the cliff’s edge. The path down looked more difficult than he remembered. “Now, you must be careful here. The path is a trifle steep. Go slowly now.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Constance was trying very hard to be obedient, but she was so eager she could scarcely stand still. The child had so much enthusiasm. Thank God, for that. Life had been terribly hard on her.

They made the descent down the path with no problem. Once, turning to offer Miss Pierce his hand, he spied a strange look crossing her face. He feared the poor girl had known little kindness. He was remembering more and more about her father—a no-good country squire who thought only of himself and obtaining a title. No wonder she had made such a fuss about him attending to his own girls. Apparently she knew the hurt they’d been suffering, apparently she had suffered that kind of hurt herself.

When they reached the bottom of the path, the earl stowed the picnic basket behind some rocks and turned to his daughters. Constance grinned, plunked down in the sand, and began eagerly to pull off her shoes and stockings. Edwina looked to the earl. She was reluctant to spoil the child’s enjoyment, but there was no telling what he might think of such hoydenish behavior. After all, for a while he’d even forbidden the children to go outside.

But instead of scolding, he shifted his gaze to Henrietta, who was examining a shell so closely it was apparent she didn’t want to notice her sister’s actions. That little boy smile lit the earl’s face again and to Edwina’s utter amazement, he sat right down in the sand and began to remove his own boots.

He looked up at her, then at Henrietta, and grinned. “Well, come on, you two. Don’t just stand there. What’s a trip to the seashore if we don’t wade in the water?”

Edwina was about to protest, but there was something in the way he looked at her, as though he expected her approval, that she couldn’t quite fathom. Then it struck her. Of course! This was his way to get Henrietta involved. There was nothing to do then but help him. So she, too, dropped down upon the sand and removed her half-boots and stockings. Henrietta hesitated for a long moment. And then, while Edwina held her breath and pretended not to notice, Henrietta dropped onto the sand and bared her feet, too.

Over the child’s head, Edwina smiled at the earl. And he winked. Then the four of them wandered along the sand near the water’s edge, admiring whatever they chanced upon—a piece of battered driftwood, a twisting shell, a little pool of drift water. At first Edwina felt a little embarrassment at wading in the sea with an earl, with the man who was her employer. But when she looked ahead to where Henrietta waded with Constance, she forgot her own discomfort in delight for the children.

* * * *

They enjoyed a long and leisurely walk, there by the beauty of the sea, and finally returned to the basket of food Cook had prepared. Seeing the gusto with which the earl ate, Edwina marveled at the change in him. Usually at meal time he pushed his food around on his plate and sighed, leaving as much or more food than he consumed. Fresh air and sunshine, she thought with a silent inner smile, were working wonders on his lordship too!

When the contents of the basket had been reduced to a few bones and crumbs, the earl sighed, but this time happily. “Now I’m ready for a nap. Why don’t we all lie quietly on the blankets and listen to the sea?”

“Yes, Papa.”

The girls disposed themselves on the blankets, and Edwina lay down, too, so replete with food and happiness she thought she might burst. This outing had been even more productive than she’d hoped. Soon things at the castle would be better. They had to be better. With the earl seeing the children every day . . . And now this wonderful outing . . . Her eyes drifted shut and she slipped off into a happy daydream in which she watched the joyful faces of the girls and the equally joyful one of their father as they played together.