Читать книгу The Secret Love of a Gentleman - Jane Lark - Страница 14

Caro walked into the nursery after breakfast, knowing that Drew and Mary had gone out for a ride. She’d assumed Robbie had gone too, but he was lying on the floor beside George raining an army of lead soldiers with imaginary cannon fire.

I respect you immensely. Those had been the words he’d used yesterday. Respect… When she’d spent the past years feeling shame; feeling like a leech.

But the words and the mention of Albert had thrown her into turmoil, the past rising up before her and memories scurrying through her head, good as well as bad. Yes, she had given up a lot: her home, her self-possession, her position in society. Despite his brutality, she had held her head high, denying in public what happened in private and she had still been looked up to, and she had not felt a burden to Albert… No, that was a lie. Her barren womb had made her a burden to him, and her failure had been a shame she concealed with embarrassment as she’d tried to look confident before others.

She turned to leave. Unsure of what she would say to Robbie.

“Caroline.”

She turned back. He’d risen from the floor and crossed the room. His long fingers wrapped about her arm to stop her turning away.

His gentle hold reminded her of the way Albert had touched her in bed.

She pulled her arm free.

“May we speak for a moment?”

I respect you immensely. She lowered her head in agreement.

“We shall return in a moment, George. I wish to speak to your aunt. Have the horses move to the far side and set up a cavalry charge.” He lifted his hand so Caro would walk ahead of him. She stopped on the landing, only a few feet away from the nursery door.

Robbie pulled the door closed.

Heat burned in Caro’s cheeks when he took a couple of strides towards her. He was nearly a foot taller than her, at least ten inches, and when he moved his athletic physique expressed energy, a love of life, a desire to discover.

His hand lifted as if he might clasp her arm, but then it fell. “Caroline, I’d like to apologise again. I’m sure you shall become bored of hearing me use the word ‘sorry’ but I wish I had not chosen the topic of conversation I did yesterday. It was crass of me. I am sorry I upset you again. Will you give me another chance?” As he spoke, the hand that had lifted previously rose and swept back his hair, brushing his fringe from his forehead.

“I should have thought before I spoke. Your past is none of my business. Yet I just, well, I wanted you to know that I respect you and I applaud you, and I believe that you must be a lot braver than you think. I see you as a woman full of courage. I did not intend to make you feel uncomfortable. I’ll say nothing more on the subject, I swear, only as I said the other day. I hope that by the end of my stay we might be friends, and although I have been making a mull of it, I still have hopes, if you will forgive me?”

She did not really have anything to forgive him for. He’d only mentioned the name of her former husband, it was hardly a crime—and each day she liked Robbie more. He was a kind, good-hearted young man. “You need not ask for my forgiveness. It was not because of you that I became emotional. Your words simply stirred up memories that I ought not to think of. I am sorry I made you feel uncomfortable. You are a guest here. It was rude of me.”

“Aun’ie Ca’o! Aun’ie Ca’o!” The nursery door handle rattled.

“Master George! Come back and play, your aunt will be here in a moment.”

Caro turned to the door.

Robbie clasped her arm, the gentle touch twisting something in her stomach. “May I ask one thing of you, Caroline? Please do not leave me alone at dinner.”

“You cannot be alone. Mary and—”

“Are a couple, and I feel foolish intruding on them every night, as I’m sure you must do when you are here alone. I presume that is why you frequently do not come down, so why not make the most of my presence and have some company?”

“You are a guest. They do not make you feel unwelcome.”

“Nor do they you.” His tone had dropped and become slightly challenging, but the words were still softly spoken, not threatening.

“Au’nie Ca’o! Play!” George shouted through the wood of the nursery door, as the handle rattled again.

Caro looked at the door then back at Robbie. She had not pulled her arm free. Robbie’s touch was soothing. It had been a long time since anyone other than Drew had touched her, and now Robbie continually did so—she was becoming accustomed to his gentle fingers about her arm.

“Shall we take him outside?” Robbie offered. “We could play on the lawn with him; the day is not too hot yet.”

She nodded agreement.

He let her go and opened the door. “Are you causing trouble, George?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nanny said.

“You need not be. We are going to take him outside for a little while, to play in the garden.”

Caro smiled at George as his eyes lit up, then he turned and ran across the room, his little legs on a charge.

“My boat!” George pointed to the sailing boat, which was on a shelf above him. He did a little awkward jump. “Play with my boat, Uncle Bobbie?” He looked back at his uncle with a plea.

Robbie crossed the room. “Yes, you shall sail your boat, George. We’ll take it out to the pond.”

George lifted his arms. Robbie bent to pick him up and held him so that George could take the boat from the shelf.

“Caroline.” Robbie indicated for her to walk ahead of them as he came back across the room.

“I have to fetch my bonnet. I will come down soon.” She turned and went ahead of them, hurrying down the stairs from the attic. Then she ran along the landing on the second floor to her rooms.

The day was warm, so she did not bother with a shawl, but just picked up a straw bonnet and tied the burgundy ribbons, which secured it beneath her chin. The colour of the ribbons matched the flowers in the pattern on her ivory muslin dress.

Her heart raced as she ran down the stairs, yet it was not from fear, it was from expectation and excitement. I applaud you. I respect you. No one had said such things to her.

You must be a lot braver than you think…

Albert had complimented her often when he’d courted her, and during the first year of their marriage, but always for her beauty. Robbie had looked beyond her appearance and considered what was inside, and he’d seen courage.

Courage…

What an odd thing for him to see in her when he’d only known the woman who hid herself away. She smiled as she hurried across the downstairs hall and then she ran lightly through the morning room and out through the French doors into the garden.

She could hear them. George was squealing with excitement, and Robbie’s lower tone cheered along with him. When she turned the corner of the second hedge in the parterre gardens, she saw them. Robbie was kneeling at the edge of the pond and George stood beside him with both hands pressed on the stone rim as they blew at the boat. It moved a little, wobbling through the water and sending out ripples.

Caro laughed, the sound bursting from her throat. She could not remember the last time she had laughed. “I see the wind is not really strong enough and so you are making your own.”

Robbie looked up, his lips parting in a sudden wide grin and his slate-grey eyes, which were paler in the sunshine, looked full of pleasure. “It is good to hear you laugh, even if it is at our expense. Will you help us blow?” His lips twisted into a wry smile.

“Aun’ie Ca’o,” George looked up.

“Are you blowing your boat to make it sail?” She lifted her skirt and knelt on the grass, on the other side of George to Robbie, but as Robbie’s hand was settled at George’s waist she did not touch George. She leaned onto the stone about the pond and blew at the boat’s white sails. George blew too, but he could not purse his lips.

Caro patted his head and laughed at the funny sound he made when he blew. “Who is on your boat, George?”

“Uncle Bahbah and the pi’ates.”

Robbie choked mid-blow and laughed more heartily than Caro had done.

Uncle Bahbah was Drew’s nickname for the black sheep of Mary’s family, Robbie’s younger brother Harry.

“Why is Uncle Harry with the pirates, George? What has he done?” Robbie’s hand gripped at George’s side.

A frown drew a line between George’s brows, as though he thought the answer was obvious. “He’s been bad, the pi’ates have captu’ed him and then he took ove’ the s’ip and now he is the capt’in.”

“Well, I am imagining a whole fleet of the Navy’s ships coming up behind your pirates, who are ready to save the day, and they shall be captained by your Uncle Robbie.”

A humorous, but less exuberant, sound slipped out of Robbie’s throat on a low note. “We should have brought your cannons down so we could fire on the pirates.”

“We can imagine cannons,” Caro dipped her fingers into the water. “Now, who do you wish to win, George? Are we blowing with all our might for the pirates to get away, or willing the Navy to catch them?”

“The pi’ates get away!”

Robbie looked at Caro with a smile. “He is Drew’s son.”

“He is, indeed.”

“Then we blow.”

“We blow.”

“Raise the main sail, and pull the yard arm! We need to get away!” Robbie called before he began blowing.

Caro blew too, and the boat began to wobble its way at a snail’s pace through the water.

Robbie kept throwing in comments about how Uncle Bahbah and the pirates were preparing to fight. “Draw your swords!”

“But Uncle Robbie is nearly upon them!” Caro cried. “They wish to take the bad pirates to their gaol.”

“No! No!” George squealed.

She laughed. “Then blow harder, George. Blow harder.”

“And now there’s a storm whipping up! It is making my navy ships sail faster.” Robbie said, dipping his fingers in the water and stirring it up so that the boat rocked even more. “Blow, George, blow.”

“If one of us must rescue it, it will be you who gets his boots wet,” she said to Robbie.

He laughed as poor George tried to blow harder and harder, with no effect.

“Uncle Bobbie, Aun’ie Ca’o, blow!”

“I think I owe you a little chivalry. I can be valiant, Caro,” Robbie responded, smiling at her, before he turned to blow once more.

He’d not called her “Caro” before; no one did but Drew and Mary. The intimacy of her nickname on his lips touched something inside her and clasped tight. She did feel differently towards him. Friendship…

“The storm is coming, George. Tell the pirates to bring down their sails.” Robbie said as he stirred up the water rocking the sailing boat, but it was too far out of reach for George to do anything.

“It’ll sink, Uncle Bobbie. Stop. Stop the sto’m!”

“Not if they take down their sails. The Navy ships are heavier, they have the cannons, they are more likely to go down! Call out to the pirates, take down your sails!”

“Ta’e down you’ sails pi’ates!” George shouted at the boat.

“They are doing it.” Caro, cried. “I can see them. Look they are in the rigging, preparing for the storm.”

“And the Navy have their cannons ready to fire, and their hatches open, the fools. They’ll be caught out.” Robbie stirred the water even more and the boat swayed. “Tell the men to come down from the rigging, George, the sea is too wild. Uncle Bahbah is up there too. Tell him to come down.”

“Come down, Uncle Bahbah!”

“He is down,” Caro said.

“The storm has hit the Navy in full force, the water is sweeping over their decks and it’s washing into the gun decks. They are sinking. They are sinking, George. Shout hurrah, the pirates have won.”

“Hu’ah!” George shouted, thrusting a fist into the air.

“Hurrah!” Robbie called. Then he looked at Caro. “Are you not pleased, Auntie Caro, why are you not cheering?” It was said with satire, and she smiled, but again something clutched in her middle when she looked at his face.

“Because I think your papa ought to teach you to favour the Navy, George, and I shall tell him so. I would have put those pirates in gaol.”

Robbie laughed.

“Pick me up, Uncle Bobbie.” George turned and wrapped his arms about Robbie’s neck, his interest in the boat gone.

“Bend over, then.” Robbie stated as he stood.

George bent over, holding out his hands between his legs. Robbie gripped them and pulled him up so that George spun a somersault in the air. It was a practised manoeuvre, which Robbie must have taught him.

George laughed as Robbie set him on the ground.

Caro closed her mouth on another laugh as her stomach tumbled over. She was laughing in a way she had not done in years, and she was enjoying herself. “You have to rescue George’s boat yet…”

“You just wish to watch me get my boots wet, and I cannot afford to have them ruined.”

“Then you will have to take them off.” Gosh, she could not remember teasing anyone since she and Drew had been children.

He grinned at her. “A perfect solution. Stand up, George.” He began pulling off his morning coat. “You may be the bearer of my coat, while I valiantly climb into the pond to rescue your boat from the storm.”

Even George grinned as Robbie stripped it off.

He folded his coat. “George put out your arms.” George obeyed. “You must stand here, and not let it fall. I do not want grass stains upon it. Conquering heroes should not be covered in grass stains.” George looked at him with eyes full of worship.

Caro smiled at George, then looked at Robbie, as he sat on the low stone rim at the edge of the pond, in trousers, shirt and waistcoat. He had a lean waist and narrow hips. Albert had been broader.

Robbie turned back the cuffs of his shirt, revealing the lean, muscular shape of his forearms and the dark hair across his skin.

Caro breathed in. Something twisted in her stomach.

“I do not suppose you would help me with these?” He lifted a booted foot.

She shook her head. She may feel more comfortable with him, but she did not feel comfortable enough to lean over before him and yank at his boot.

He struggled a little, but he had not brought a valet with him so he must take off his own boots every night. It did not take him long.

She looked at George. Robbie had given George a task so he would not run around. It was a wise trick.

“And these are for you, Caro.” He held out his boots with a wry smile.

She poked her tongue out at him. When had she last done a thing like that?

George laughed, and she looked down to find him looking up at her. Even he’d noticed the difference in her today. She smiled.

“The hero is rising to the challenge!” Robbie called. “Prepared to get both his trousers and his stockings wet for the sake of your poor boat, George.”

Oh, good Lord! She laughed so much her sides ached as he made a great fuss of climbing into the pond. The water came up to his thighs and he waded through it, one hand raised, as though he intended planting a Union Jack and naming it for a territory of Royal Britannia.

“It is rescued!” he cried, when he lifted up George’s toy.

“You are stupid, Robbie,” Caro breathed as he carried it back.

“Call me Rob, Caro, please. Robbie is so childish, I will never get my brothers and sisters to change, but my friends never call me that.”

Friends. Had they achieved that now already? Perhaps not yet, but she truly believed they could become friends. “Let me take the boat, Rob. You may have your boots back.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” He swapped her the boat for his boots, then put them on the edge of the pond and climbed out. The water had plastered his trousers to his legs.

Physically he was at his peak, so young and beautiful.

He picked up his boots. “May I have my coat, young master coat-keeper?” He held out his hand, George raised his arms and Rob took his coat from them. “And now I think we ought to return to the house. I am soaked and would like a change of clothes, and your mama and papa have probably come back and will be looking for you, George.”

Caro gripped George’s hand before he could run off. “Come along, then, do you wish to carry your boat?” He nodded, and so the three of them walked back across the lawn with George gripping his boat and Rob carrying his boots, with his coat hanging over his shoulder.

When they reached the house, Rob excused himself and ran upstairs ahead of them, heading to his room, which was on the first floor, displaying the energy and agility that the muscular definition of his body implied as he took the steps two at a time.

Caro followed him, walking more slowly with George.