Jo Ann Brown (13 page)

“In a fortnight. We can stay that long to be feted as heroes, can’t we?”

Charles could not think of anything he wanted less, short of returning to battle. He was about to say that, but he made the mistake of looking toward Herriott. His friend had that familiar panicked expression, and Charles remembered his promise last night to help his friend become more comfortable among the
ton.
He could not break that vow so quickly.

As he had last night, he said simply, “Yes.”

Chapter Twelve

C
hildish giggles burst out of the nursery as Charles reached the top of the stairs. That could mean only one thing—Sophia was playing with his children. When the nurse was with them, they laughed, but only Sophia brought forth that lighthearted giggle he had never expected to hear from his daughter again.

“Hee-haw!” Michael shouted. “Hee-haw! That is a donkey!”

A pause, then Gemma made a noise that sounded like a duck with a sore throat. “Am I right, Sophia? Is that a goose?”

“You are right,” Sophia answered, the sound of her laughter like a dozen silver bells chiming. “Now guess this one.”

Charles, curious what they were doing, went into the nursery, but paused by the inner door. Sophia sat in front of a sunlit window. With the bright blue sky behind her, she could have been posing for a portrait. Her dress was the faint pink of the sky before sunrise, and a ribbon of the same color held back her golden curls.

She held up her slender hands, contorting her fingers and locking them together. On the opposite wall, a horned silhouette appeared.

Gemma and Michael, who were kneeling on the floor, bent their heads together to confer.

“Baa.” Charles did his best imitation of a goat’s bleating.

Both children jumped to their feet and ran to him. He was startled when Gemma did not pull up short as she usually did. Instead she tugged on his sleeve.

“Come and see what Sophia has taught us,” she said.

Sophia stood and regarded him with concern. “How are you today, Charles?”

“I am fine, and I slept fine last night.” He regretted his whetted tone. Forcing his voice to lighten, he added, “Thank you for asking, but, as I told your cousin, there is no need for concern.”

“I am pleased to hear that.” She looked at his children, then back at him, her smile returning. “If you will stay where you are, Charles, you will see better. Come here, children, so you can show him what you have learned.” Her smile broadened as she perched on a chair as the children scrambled to stand on either side of her.

He watched while she gently guided the children’s hands into the proper configuration, taking extra time to help a very excited Michael keep the pattern steady. The children’s faces shone in the sunshine, but it was not just the light. Happiness lit them from within with a brilliance he had not seen since before he left for the war. It came from a simple joy that was beyond price.

“Ready?” Sophia asked.

The children nodded, and she readjusted Michael’s hands again before saying, “And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us.”

The verses from Psalm 90 must have been a signal. Both children raised their hands that they held with their thumbs pressed together. Slowly they opened and closed their hands. On the wall two small silhouettes of butterflies appeared.

Charles applauded. Michael bowed deeply, and Gemma curtseyed before dissolving into giggles.

He looked past them to Sophia. Clapping, he walked toward her. “Another brava is due to the one who created this show.”

A lovely blush rushed up her cheeks, and he turned to congratulate his children again before he could no longer fight the temptation to brush his fingers against Sophia’s enticing color. As he watched the children display the other shapes they had learned, his eyes kept shifting to watch as Sophia walked around the room, picking up stray toys and putting them on the lower shelves.

When a box fell off and spilled lead soldiers across the floor, he crossed the room to help her gather them. He took the box from her and started to place it on one of the empty shelves.

“No,” she said. “That is too high for the children or Alice to reach.”

He smiled as she took the box and settled it with care on the next to the bottom shelf. “It is good of you to think of Alice, so she does not need to drag a chair over here each time the children want toys.”

“I learned long ago that I must keep in mind that not everyone is as sky-high as I am.” She laughed without humor. “Though, if I do forget, someone is likely to let me know.”

“Not everyone is as uncharitable as Owensly.” When her face paled, he said, “Your cousin mentioned his name. I wasn’t digging for the truth behind your back.”

She reached for another toy and put it on a low shelf. “I know.”

Charles waited for her to add more, but she continued picking up the children’s discarded toys, denying him the opportunity to offer her more solace. He glanced across the room when he heard Gemma’s and Michael’s delighted laughter. They continued to entertain themselves with creating silhouettes of animals on the wall. When Michael had trouble with one shape, his sister helped him without being asked. He watched, fascinated that the children who had seemed distant on the way north now played together with joy.

“I was astonished that they did not know how to make shadow animals.” Sophia set several books on the shelves. “I cannot remember when we learned, so I must have been even younger than Michael.”

“My wife’s family does not believe in a child using his or her imagination.” His mouth straightened. “Most likely because none of them had one.”

“Oh.” She started to add more, then stopped.

“I am stating a fact,” Charles said. “I wanted to explain why such a game would seem as foreign to them as driving a coach pulled by fish.”

“I would say that you are not lacking in imagination when you make a statement like that.” Sophia’s smile returned, and he could believe it glowed brightly enough for his children to use for their game.

Or was its warmth solely within him? When he first came to Meriweather Hall, he was wrapped in ice that kept him from feeling too much. His friends had respected that. Sophia had not. She had reached out to him as well as his children, bringing happiness into their lives.

“It would seem you have been a good influence on me as well as on the children,” he said.

“I am pleased to think that.”

“Me, too.” He curled her fingers over his much broader ones.

When he gazed into her soft green eyes, it took all of his strength to keep from sweeping her into his arms. He did not want to talk about the children. He did not want to talk about anything. He wanted to kiss her.

The children ran over to where they stood. Gemma frowned when she glanced at how he held Sophia’s hand, but Michael had one thought on his mind.

“See the sea now?” his son asked.

Sophia drew her fingers slowly—and he hoped reluctantly—out of his as she said, “I promised Gemma that we would play the string game.”

Michael whirled to his sister. “Don’t you want to see the sea?”

Gemma’s thoughts were as clear as if she had shouted them when a satisfied smile tilted her lips once Sophia had released his hand. “Yes, and you and I and Sophia can play the string game there.”

“The string game?” asked Charles, acting as if he had not noticed Gemma’s smile. It reminded him too much of her mother’s when she crowed about some victory over him. Gemma had been in the custody of the same woman who had reared Lydia, and he wondered what other unflattering habits she had acquired. The question made him more certain that he had been right when he vowed before God to be the best father possible for his children and rear them himself.

“Cat’s cradle,” Sophia said, her voice falsely bright. She must have noticed Gemma’s reaction, too. “Do you know how to play cat’s cradle, Charles?”

He shook his head. “I watched others play it when I was a child, but never played it myself.”

“Why don’t you join us for our walk along the shore? Gemma and Michael will be thrilled to teach you how to play it.” She smiled at the children. “Won’t you?”

“Me teach you the string game!” shouted Michael, spinning around in his excitement.

Gemma crossed her arms over her narrow chest and grumbled something under her breath.

“Gemma,” Charles said, “if you have something to say, you should say it loudly enough for everyone to hear.”

“Maybe everyone else heard,” his daughter fired back. “Maybe your ears are stopped up from cannon fire.”

Sophia scolded, “Gemma, that is no way to speak to your father. You should apologize.”

“I will handle this.” Charles felt the familiar tightness of his anger rising. “Gemma, repeat what you said so we can hear.”

“I don’t remember,” Gemma said with a challenging expression that said the opposite.

Beside her, Michael put his thumb in his mouth and edged closer to lean against Sophia’s skirt. He gripped a handful of the material, clinging to her as he listened wide-eyed.

“Gemma,” Charles said, “I asked you to tell us what you said.”

“You really must have gone deaf from the cannons. Grandmother said that happens, and we should not be surprised.”

He scowled at the insolence that he never would have accepted from his men. “Gemma...”

“Otherwise,” she replied in a superior tone that brought Lydia to mind, “you would have heard when I said that I don’t remember what I said.”

“Gemma, I demand—”

Sophia interrupted, “Let’s take a deep breath and calm down. Gemma, apologize nicely to your papa.”

“Sorry,” she said, completely insincere. When Sophia frowned at her, his daughter repeated the words in a nicer tone.

“Better,” Sophia said, her hand stroking Michael’s hair as he stayed close to her. “Charles?”

“What?” The question came out in a bellow.

Sophia blinked twice, but did not recoil as the children did. “Charles, you should tell your daughter you accept her apology.”

Charles almost snarled that Sophia should remember what she told him the night he arrived at Meriweather Hall.
May I suggest, Lord Northbridge, that you deal with your family’s problems and allow me to deal with mine?

Then he saw tears in his son’s eyes. In Gemma’s, too, he discovered when he looked more closely. Even Sophia’s eyes were sad. And disappointed.

In him.

“Gemma, I accept your apology,” he said, calm once more, though a storm roiled within him. He had scared his son with his temper. He had backed his rebellious daughter into a corner so she lashed out at him. He had disappointed Sophia. Each of their responses hurt, and, for the first time, he feared he would never persuade his children, especially his daughter, that he truly cared for them.

* * *

As Sophia and Charles walked toward the path to the beach, the children raced ahead. She sought the right words to ease Charles’s sorrow. “Your daughter really is a caring child.”

He snorted a terse laugh as they went past the hedges that divided the garden from the untamed headland. “All she seems to care about is disagreeing with everything I say. She seems ready to do everything she can to raise my ire.”

“She does not trust you yet because she does not know you. Give her a chance to get to know you.”

“She has had no problem getting to know and trust you.”

“I am not her father.”

“Obviously.” Vexation slipped into his voice again.

Sophia paused. “Charles, the children came here with no expectations of me, so it has been easy for them to trust me.”

“They cannot trust me because they believe that I abandoned them.” He winced as he spoke, and she guessed he had said more than he intended.

“They don’t understand about the obligations that kept you from them. Michael is learning to trust you, because he never had a reason to distrust you.”

“But Gemma has memories of when I was there and when I left.”

Sophia nodded, blinking back tears. “And she had no idea if you would ever come back. Her mother went away and did not ever return, so why would she expect you to?”

Charles stared at her in silence. Had she said too much, stuck her nose in where it did not belong?

“Sophia!” called Gemma. “Can we go down the cliff?”

She started to turn to answer, but Charles’s hand on her elbow halted her. Slowly she looked at him. She had seen his fury. She had seen his sorrow, but she never had seen a candid expression like this one.

“How did you become this wise?” he whispered so low that the sea wind almost blew the words away.

“Experience.” Her voice was as hushed as his.

“I don’t understand.”

“My father died, and he is not coming back. As an adult, I understand he will be there to greet me in heaven, but the small part of me that remains my father’s little girl is angry and hurt that he would leave me.”

“And you think Gemma feels the same way?”

“Y-y-yes.” She bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering more.

“I had no idea.”

“When your wife died—”

“That was different.”

She wanted to ask him how, but refrained. His eyes had hardened as soon as she mentioned his wife.

“Just as you are different, Sophia,” he said.

Her first instinct was to spin on her heel and storm away. He did not need to tell her that she was different. People had been pointing that out since she had sprouted like a bean when she was ten. Why was he being cruel when they had been speaking from the heart?

Before she could ask that, he added, “You are the first person I have met since I returned from France who has not been curious about my scar. Most people stare and many ask how it happened.”

“Including your children?”

Again emotion flashed through his eyes, but this time it was sorrow. “I think Michael was half-frightened of me at first, but then I told him how Bradby saved my life when a French soldier took aim at me with his sword. He was so excited to be in the presence of a true hero that he came to accept me.”

“Mr. Bradby saved your life?”

Charles sighed. “You know he is not the man he was. A braver man I have never met. When the French ambushed us, he jumped onto a soldier who was about to slice my head off. He deflected the man’s blow, leaving me with my head.” He smiled sadly. “
That
is the reason I put up with his endless jests.”

“They are a small price to pay.”

“At times, it feels like the debt is far too heavy.”

“Papa!” called Michael from the top of the cliff path.

Charles walked toward where his son and Gemma waited. When Sophia caught up with them, he said, “Thank you.”