Читать книгу His Compromised Countess - Deborah Hale, Deborah Hale - Страница 10

How long would it be until Bennett got over his relief at finding Wyn and recalled that their son would never have been in danger if not for her?

That thought plagued Caroline as her husband took charge to make her and Wyn as comfortable as possible after their ordeal. His reaction to the child’s sudden flight into the storm had proven that he cared more for Wyn than she’d ever suspected—far more than he had been able to show.

She knew that should make her happy for Wyn’s sake. She wanted her son to have a father who loved him, even if he had trouble expressing it. But the more Bennett cared about their son, the less likely he would be to consider letting the child stay with her on Tresco. Especially now that he knew how dangerous it could be.

‘We’ll get you dried out yet.’ Bennett tucked a blanket around her and Wyn as they huddled together on the sofa, which he had pulled up closer to the parlour hearth. ‘It looks as though we may be obliged to spend the night here since the storm shows no sign of easing up.’

Vexed as she was with Bennett for the hurt he’d caused her in the past and the worse harm he intended to inflict, Caroline appreciated his calm resourcefulness in a crisis.

‘What about you?’ She wrapped her arms around their son and pulled him closer. The child had not stopped shivering in spite of dry clothes, a blanket and the warmth of the fire. ‘You look half-drowned.’

And yet it did not make him a whit less attractive… unfortunately. His close-cropped dark hair was only a little damp now and he had removed his sodden coat and waistcoat. But the driving rain had penetrated all the way to his shirt, which clung to his broad shoulders and well-proportioned chest in a way that made Caroline feel altogether too warm. It also made her self-conscious of what a fright she must look with her hair hanging lank and damp.

‘Half-drowned?’ Bennett glanced down at his clothes. ‘More than half, I should think. Perhaps I can borrow some dry clothes from Albert, for mine are still on the ship.’

Parker bustled in then with cups of hot tea for them all.

When Caroline took a sip of hers, her stomach squealed, as if demanding something more substantial.

She cringed with embarrassment until Wyn gave a little chuckle—a sound so sweet it made her laugh along with him. ‘Are you hungry, Mama?’

‘I believe I am. All that housework must have given me an appetite.’

‘Dare I ask what you’ve prepared for supper, Parker?’ Bennett cast a dubious glance in the direction of the kitchen.

‘A mess, I’m afraid, my lord.’ The maid cowered. ‘At least that’s what Albert says, the useless lump. I tried to make a fish stew, but I’m a lady’s maid, not a cook. It got all thick like paste and it burnt to the bottom of the pot and…’

Parker gulped and sniffled.

‘Never mind that.’ Though Bennett’s gruff tone expressed horror at the prospect of female tears, it also carried a note of reluctant sympathy. ‘Is there any other food you didn’t cook?’

‘Some of the potatoes, sir. And eggs and a flitch of bacon for breakfast. Why?’

Bennett squared his shoulders. ‘I mean to prepare a supper that might conceivably be edible.’

‘You can cook?’ Caroline would have been less surprised if he’d declared his intention to walk back to Cornwall on the water. How many other things about her husband had she never suspected because he’d never let her close enough to find out? ‘When did you learn how?’

Bennett shrugged, as if to say it was not such a remarkable accomplishment. ‘I hung about the kitchen on my school holidays. I’ve always thought it a great disadvantage for a man not to be able to get himself a bite to eat in a pinch.’

Now she understood. He had learned to cook so he would not be altogether dependent on others for nourishment.

Without another word, Bennett strode from the parlour. Soon the hearty aroma of frying bacon wafted from the kitchen, overpowering the sickening stench of Parker’s burnt fish stew.

Caroline cradled Wyn in her arms and tried to still his shivering. Deep in her heart, she quailed, too. During those terrible moments when she’d feared for Wyn’s safety, she began to understand how her husband must have felt when he’d returned to Sterling House to find their son gone. Soon Bennett would remember, too. No doubt he would also realise it was her fault Wyn had run away. If he had been determined to take their son back to London before, there would now be no hope whatsoever of him permitting Wyn to stay with her.

A while later, the five of them sat around the table, masters and servants equally ill at ease dining together. Only Wyn seemed unperturbed by the situation.

‘Don’t forget grace,’ he reminded the adults, bowing his head and folding his small hands.

Glancing down at her son, Caroline smiled with a mixture of amusement and doting pride. It gave her features a winsome glow that caught Bennett off guard.

‘Will you say it, Papa?’ the boy asked.

‘Er… of course.’ Bennett muttered something vague about giving thanks for the food before them. ‘Now, tuck in.’

Caroline took a reluctant bite, perhaps wondering what harm this fry-up of bacon, eggs and potatoes would do to her delicate digestion. Her wary look soon melted into one of wholehearted pleasure. She cleaned her plate as if she were starving.

‘That may be the most delicious meal I have ever eaten,’ she declared when she had finished. ‘Thank you.’

Her eyes had glowed with sincere appreciation.

So his wife was capable of showing gratitude, after all. The revelation came as an awkward surprise to Bennett.

‘I’m… pleased my efforts met with your approval.’ His reply came out stiff and self-conscious. Uncomfortable being the centre of attention, he turned his upon their son. ‘I fear Wyn does not share your enthusiasm for my cookery.’

Caroline glanced at the plate Wyn had scarcely touched. ‘You should try to eat, dearest. It tastes very good and hot food will help warm you up.’

Albert chimed in, ‘Try breaking open your eggs and dipping the tatties in the yolk. They taste even better that way.’

Wyn pushed a chip of fried potato around his plate. ‘I’m not hungry.’