B005R3LZ90 EBOK (4 page)

He and Miss Spenser could not seem to lose a hand all night, and he was quite pleased with himself. Tonight had been far more entertaining that sitting in the card room at the Upper Assembly Rooms and losing his ass. Perhaps he really should listen to his sisters. What would it hurt if he stayed in, say, one or two nights a week?

"Oh, George," Felicity said, "this has been so exceedingly fun. We must do it again soon."

"At Winston Hall?" Thomas asked, his glance darting to George.

"I should love to." George stood up and bowed at his partner. "And, Miss Spenser, I should be honored if you would do me the goodness of being my partner again next time."

"I am the one who would be honored, my lord," she said.

To Blanks's dismay, George opted not to go out later that night. "I believe I'll go on home and get a good night's sleep, for a change," George announced.

"You can't be serious," Blanks said, his brows drawn.

"Oh, but I am."

George did go home and go to bed. But he was unable to sleep. He kept thinking of how difficult it would be to find a more qualified woman than Miss Spenser to help with his children.

Chapter 3

Both of his children turned sharply when George opened the door to the nursery. Georgette dropped her cat and flew toward her father. "Papa! Papa! What are you doing here?" she asked as he swept her up into his arms.

"I've come to give you a piggyback ride." He gave her fair cheek a loud kiss, then hoisted her on top of his shoulders. Georgette began to giggle as her father carried her from one end of the vast nursery to the other. Even the children's nurse, Hortense, giggled at the sight of Lord Sedgewick behaving the buffoon.

On their second trip to the window, where they turned around, George's glance connected with his son's pensive little face. Sam was the only one in the room who was not giggling. The boy backed into the wall as if he were afraid of the large man who was playing the nadcock.

George set down his daughter, then turned to Sam. "Should you like a ride on my shoulders, too?" He felt as if he were addressing a stranger. In fact, George was not sure if he
had
ever spoken directly to the boy before.

George was still reeling from yesterday's unexpected news that his son did not speak. It had come as a complete surprise. More than that, such a piece of information was most alarming. Was something the matter with the boy? He eyed his son, who was reluctant to give a response.

The lad's lower lip quivered, and his green eyes widened. Finally, Sam nodded.

George bent down and picked up the boy. He had never before held his son in his arms. George was surprised that Sam felt a great deal heavier than Georgette even though he was much shorter and much younger than she. The lad was rock solid. George hoisted him on top of his shoulders, careful to keep a tight hold—not that he needed to. Sam's chubby little hands clutched his father's hands with a death grip. That the boy had enough sense to be afraid of heights indicated to George that he was possessed of intelligence.

As soon as George began to charge across the nursery floor, Sam began to giggle. Relief spread over George. At least there was nothing wrong with the boy's ability to make noise. Felicity was most likely right, then, about boys talking later than girls. That's all there was to it.

When he finished and put the boy back down, Sam continued to smile. George found such an expression completely uncharacteristic for his somber son.

Now that George had brightened the day for his children, he could leave. But, oddly, he found he did not wish to leave. His thoughts flashed back to his own nursery days and the infrequent times when his father would visit George and his sisters in the Hornsby nursery. George had especially loved it when his father read
The Life and Perambulation of a Mouse
to him. George strolled across the wooden floors to the little cabinet on the nursery's west wall to see if the book might have made the trip from Hornsby Manor. He thumbed through a handful of moral tales before he came to the familiar, dog-eared book that was narrated by a mouse. He picked it up, then turned back to face his children.

"Should you wish for me to read you the mouse's story?" he asked.

Georgette's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, Papa, that would be ever so nice!"

George went to sit on the big rocking chair and patted his knee for Georgette. She hopped up and sat on his right thigh, snuggling her face into her father's chest.

Then George looked at Sam's solemn face and patted his other knee.

Sam looked from the knee back to his father for a moment before slowly mounting the proffered leg. George hauled him up and hooked a hand around Sam's waist, then began to read. He held the book in his right hand and requested his daughter to turn the pages for him.

As he read, George could not see Georgette's face, but he clearly saw that Sam was mesmerized by the story and was unable to tear his eyes away from the illustrations.

When George finished the story, the nursery door eased opened. George looked up and into the face of Miss Spenser. She looked considerably different than she had the night before when her hair had hung in blond ringlets. Today it once again looked like a paintbrush. In fact, she looked like the Sally Spenser he had known nearly half his life.

To George's astonishment, Sam jumped down off his knee and rushed over to Miss Spenser, holding his little arms up to her. Could that be his shy son? In his almost two years of life, Sam had never before displayed so much excitement. At least, not in front of his father. It rather disappointed George to admit to himself that Hortense had never been able to elicit such an enthusiastic response in the children who had been in her charge their entire lives.

George was equally astonished at the look of utter delight that washed across Miss Spenser's face as she lifted Sam into her arms and nudged her face into his golden curls, where she dropped a kiss.

Then she looked up at George. "Hullo, my lord. I hadn't expected to see you here."

"I'm not often here. But I can see that you're no stranger to my children's nursery."

Sam bounced in her arms, pointing to his father.

 "Yes, I see your papa," Miss Spenser cooed at Sam.

But the babe vigorously shook his head.

Apparently it was not his father Sam was pointing at. "Oh, I understand, you little scamp. You want me to rock you." Miss Spenser gave George an apologetic glance. "I'm afraid you've got the chair where Sam and I always rock."

George chuckled as he vacated the chair for Miss Spenser. "I can see my son has no need to learn how to speak, for he communicates exceedingly well without words. Tell me, is he accustomed to getting his way so easily?"

It was Hortense, not Miss Spenser, who answered. "No, yer lordship. Far be it from me than to coddle the children. 'Tis strict discipline that children need." She set her hands to her hips and gave a reproachful glance in Sam's direction. "And I've told Master Sam a thousand times he has to speak in order to get what he wants from me. I'll have none of that wretched pointing."

George nodded at the nurse. How could it be that he had never noticed how stern the middle-aged woman was with his children?

Georgette picked up her cat and she, too, walked up to Miss Spenser. "Papa read us the mouse story you always read to us."

Miss Spenser slid a glance at George. "I first read it at Hornsby, you know."

Then she must have known it had been a great favorite with him and his siblings. How thoughtful of Miss Spenser to introduce it to his children. A pity their own father had failed to do so.

Miss Spenser stroked Georgette's dark hair. "How pretty you look today, pet."

Georgette's face brightened. Did Hortense ever say pretty things to his precious daughter? Most likely not. The plain nurse was probably of the opinion that such comments were far too indulgent.

Next Miss Spenser addressed Fluffy. "And how very well fed you look today, Mister Fluff." She looked at Georgette with twinkling eyes. "I expect your kitty cat cleaned his bowl today."

Georgette giggled. "Just like Mr. Whiskers in the story you made up for us."

Sam had removed one of his shoes. Now, why had his son gone and done that? George wondered.

He was soon to find out.

Miss Spenser grabbed Sam's big toe and began to recite the
This Little Piggy
game.

And Sam squealed with delight. As soon as Miss Spenser finished, Sam once more offered her his foot, this time with a commanding grunt. "You must say `please,'" Miss Spenser said firmly.

George watched intently. Would this slip of a woman succeed with Sam where no one else had?

Sam shook his head and pointed his little foot at her with another commanding grunt.

Miss Spenser lifted his foot to her lips and kissed the top of it. "I will not do the piggy game until you say `please.'" Though her words were stern, her voice was kind.

Surely the lad could say one little word. It was clever of Miss Spenser to know that single words had to come before sentences. And wasn't it clever of her to bribe his son into speaking? A pity Hortense was not as clever as Miss Spenser. But, then, few people were. Glee had often remarked on her friend's intelligence. Why, Miss Spenser could even read and write Greek!

Finally, Sam issued a sound. It wasn't the word
please
, but it was a single syllable with a strong E sound.

"Very good, sweetheart," Miss Spenser said to Sam as she proceeded to repeat the piggy game.

As George stood there watching his children gathered close to Miss Spenser, he realized Glee and Felicity were right. Miss Spenser was the perfect person for his children.

But how was it his sisters already knew what George had never even guessed? For how long had the spinster been paying such visits to his children? And why would a young lady of excellent birth prefer to be in his nursery instead of parading around the Pump Room on some buck's arm? It all seemed very peculiar to him.

"Miss Spenser," he said, "could I persuade you to join me and the children for a romp in the park?"

"Today?"

He nodded.

"What park, my lord?"

"Sydney Gardens, I think."

"The children do love it there," she answered.

How in the bloody hell did she know more about
his
children than he did?

She moved to get up. "I should be honored to accompany you. 'Tis quite lovely out today."

He nodded at Hortense. "You're dismissed."

Before she left the room, Hortense peered at Miss Spenser through narrowed eyes.

The two adults and two little ones set out on foot from the Sedgewick town house. All except for Sam, who was carried in Miss Spenser's arms. George had attempted to carry the lad, but Sam clutched Miss Spenser frantically and buried his face into her shoulder.

George held Georgette's hand, and whenever they happened upon an acquaintance of his, he was rather proud to display his lovely daughter. How he loved to gaze upon her! It was like having a piece of Diana back.

By the time they reached Pulteney Bridge, George insisted on taking Sam from Miss Spenser. The poor lady's arms must be aching from the heavy load.

He was rather embarrassed that the lad not only clung to Miss Spenser but also seemed afraid of his own father. The boy would have to learn not to thwart him. With a stern reprimand, he yanked Sam from Miss Spenser. He was about to chastise the boy when a strange feeling came over him. It was he—not the boy—who should be chastised. For he had been an absent father. Naturally the lad would be more comfortable with Miss Spenser than with him.

George met Miss Spenser's disapproving gaze. And it humbled him. "I'm afraid I've been a wretched father. The poor lad is likely terrified of me."

Any well-bred young lady would have attempted to allay his words. Any well-bred lady except the authoritarian Miss Spenser."Then you must rectify your absences," she said in a tone a schoolmistress would use with one of her pupils.

No woman—save his bloody sisters—had ever spoken to him in so didactic a manner. Why, there were more than a dozen women in Bath this very week who would address him with pure adoration. Not even Diana had ever thought to chastise him, even though she could have used him as wet clay in her hands. Yet this skinny spinster with straggly hair spoke to him as if
she
were his elder sister. He had a mind to put her in her place, to tell her not to poke her nose where it was not wanted.

But he could not. For she
was
wanted here. His children obviously adored her. Even if he did not.

They crossed Pulteney Bridge and soon found themselves at Sydney Gardens, where a dozen nurses in starched aprons oversaw their young charges who were running and playing and making believe on the green lawns.

George set Sam down, and the toddler immediately began to run as fast as his little legs would carry him, his squeals of delight trailing behind him.

Miss Spenser smiled up at George. Those dimples of hers were frightfully attractive. He found he could no longer be angry with her.

Georgette ran after her brother and easily overtook him. "You can't catch me," she taunted.

George chuckled to himself, then offered Miss Spenser his crooked arm. "Shall we take a stroll while the children play?"

She hesitated a moment before slipping her arm through his. "This has really been such fun," she said as they began to walk the paths close to the children. "I shall come to admire you dreadfully."

"And that would be bad?"

She tossed back her head and laughed. "Oh no, my lord, it would be quite good, actually. You see, I've lamented ever since . . . since her ladyship died, that you've not been closer to your children. They need you much more now that they don't have a mother."

So Miss Spenser's intelligence extended to matters other than knowledge found in books. She was a keen observer of human nature. Demmed female. She made him feel most inferior. And no woman had ever done that before. He swallowed hard. "I've had other . . . things occupying me since my wife died."