Authors: Father Christmas
She must have murmured something suitable, for the duke went on. “Of course, it may take some time. Meanwhile”—he cleared his throat; confound it, there was no polite way of putting this—“I’d like to take the boys back to England on my yacht. And you, too, naturally, if you wish to come. I, ah, believe the twins belong in their own country.”
Graceanne studied the tiny cap she was embroidering. “Yes, I have been thinking it was time we returned home.”
“Here now,” Gilly put in, “I thought ye’ve been thinking on my offer.” He turned to Ware, fists clenched at his sides. “An’ an honorable offer it do be, too, Duke. Ye’ve got yer yacht an’ yer mansions an’ yer piles of blunt, but I’ve got a wedding ring to put on her ringer. Can ye match that, Duke?”
Something inside Leland turned to ash. It was true, then. Grace and this rough countryman had an understanding. And with the boys so obviously flourishing, Leland knew he couldn’t take them away from her.
Graceanne died a little in the awkward silence after Gilly’s question. Then, “Don’t be a fool, Gilly,” she said. “His Grace is only showing proper concern for his wards’ welfare. He has always been a most excellent guardian.”
Gilly spat out the window. Graceanne suddenly wondered what he did in the winter, with the windows shut. With any luck, she wouldn’t be here to find out. Setting aside the sewing she was too nervous to stitch properly, she asked Gilly to check on the boys while she and His Grace continued their conversation.
“I cannot return to my parents’ home, Your Grace.”
“Leland. And I should hope not. There are a few extra rooms at Ware Hold,” he teased, inordinately relieved that she was considering coming away with him. “Just a few. And Ware House in London is almost as empty. On the boat ride home we can discuss where you’d like to live.”
“I have other reservations, Your—cousin.” He gestured for her to continue, schooling himself not to grin, not to show he was willing to agree to almost anything. “At first you wished to have only Willy, your heir, come to you. I need to know that you’d not favor him over Les.”
“Confound it, Grace, that was before I met either boy. You must know I’d not love one more than the other, or make them compete with each other for my regard.”
“And you’ll not establish Willy as your heir, confer titles and such on him, while you are still in your prime? I’d not have him disappointed later.”
He nodded, liking that she thought him still young. Compared to Liam’s father, Gilly, he was practically a lad. “I shan’t try to dub him viscount until I’m at least fifty, and without male issue. ‘Twould be against the laws of succession anyway. Will that do?”
Graceanne thought the duke would be virile well into his seventies, but she didn’t say so. She was thinking how best to put her most pressing concern. He was so good with the boys and would be such a loving father. She had no real cause to distrust him, yet his world did not accept children like Nina. The members of the
ton
kept their dirty linen hidden in the deepest closets. Hers was going aboard that yacht, first class, or none of them were going. “So you’ll care for all my children, be a fair and even-handed guardian?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“I would have your handshake, Leland. It’s that important to me.”
This was not time to quibble about a man’s word, not when he was so close to filling that gaping hole in his life. Leland stood and took her hand in his. “I solemnly swear to love both your children the same, with no favoritism.”
“
All
my children,” she corrected him.
He shrugged. “All.”
The duke returned to his yacht. He wouldn’t have accepted Gilly’s hospitality, nor was it offered. Furthermore, he had to alert the crew and rearrange the bunks in the cabins, since Graceanne insisted the children needed their nursemaid Shanna. Leland couldn’t but think the Irish girl would be miserable away from home and family, but the chit convinced him she’d never leave Mrs. Grace, not after all she’d done for her. So be it. Shanna could sleep with the boys, leaving the widow’s wide bed half empty. And his own the same, of course, if by any stroke of Gallic magic she preferred to sleep there.
He did not see much of Graceanne the next day, since she was busy with the packing, so he went with the boys on their farewell rounds of stalls and paddocks. He wondered if Graceanne knew that their favorite activity at the horse farm was watching the stallion perform. They were too excited at the prospect of a boat ride to worry about the horses left behind, especially when the duke described the ponies he had waiting for them at Ware.
Leland hired a wagon to transport the trunks, bags, and boxes to the dock, and a carriage for Graceanne, the nursemaid, and the boys. Willy and Les wanted to ride on the wagon with the dog, though, so he tossed them up, with firm instructions to stay seated and hold on tightly over bumps, while the widow and the maid settled themselves in the coach.
As he walked back to the carriage, Leland heard an odd sound. He looked under the wheel to see if a spring was damaged. No, it wasn’t that kind of noise. His brows lowered, the duke pulled open the carriage door, then shut it quickly, backing out. The nursemaid was holding an infant to her breast.
Graceanne opened the door again and stepped down, but she stayed close to the carriage. “I should have told you.”
“You should have told me?” he thundered. “You bloody well should have mentioned that you were bringing an unwed girl and her baby aboard my boat! And why the devil would you hire a—”
Before he could go any further with that thought, Graceanne quietly said, “It’s not Shanna’s baby.”
If it wasn’t the nursemaid’s baby…dear God, he thought, a baby. He staggered back from the carriage.
Graceanne reached in and lifted out a small blanket-wrapped bundle. She cuddled it, gazing down in such tenderness, his heart gave a lurch. My God, a baby.
Still staring at the infant, she told him, “I should have told you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to travel with an infant. She won’t be any problem, I swear.”
Leland wasn’t listening. He was calculating. The bundle was so tiny, what was nine months back from yesterday? He couldn’t think. Could she have been breeding over Christmas? He recalled the velvet gown she wore, oh, so well, but it was cut in the latest style, with the waistline under the bosom. But Tony’d already been dead for months by then. Too many months.
“By all that’s holy, woman, how could you?” His well-bred, aristocratic indifference gave way to abject anguish.
Graceanne didn’t notice. What, did he think she should have tossed Pru’s baby in the dust heap? “How could I not?” She looked up and read disgust on his handsome face. She held the baby closer to her breast. “She’s mine, so speak now if you will not acknowledge her. But I swear to you, the boys and I will go elsewhere if you cannot accept Nina.”
Still reeling, he automatically said, “I could force you, or take the twins. The laws…”
“But you said you would not. I hold you to your word. Nina is part of our family.”
“Nina?” It was the gasp of a dying man.
“Antonia Faith. Little girl,
niña.
Nina,”
“You named the bas—er, baby—after Tony? Tarnation, woman, does your boldness know no bounds? The gall, the absolute nerve!”
Her shoulders went back. “Tony would understand. He had a generous heart.” Not like some others she could mention but didn’t.
A generous heart, Tony Warrington? Ware was positive his hotheaded cousin would kill her, Liam, Gilly, and every horse on the farm. Leland wanted to himself. It was all he could do not to strangle the jade.
“And you hope to pass the child off as Tony’s?”
“No one has to know the exact date of his death. It’s not as if he died in a specific battle or anything. And the timing is not that many months far from possible. Nina deserves that, Your Grace. She fought so hard.”
“What, is she sickly besides?”
“She’s just delicate.” Graceanne uncovered the infant’s head and held her out toward him to see. “She won’t be any problem.”
All he saw was a pinkish red tinge to the downy hair on the infant’s head. Like Liam’s. Or Gilly’s. That was problem enough. He turned away. “And you don’t feed her yourself?” He jerked his head toward the carriage and the waiting maid. No, she wouldn’t let a nursing babe interfere with her finding a new protector.
“Of course not. How could I? Why, you think…”
She was too late. Leland had already climbed aboard the wagon with the boys and given the driver the office to start.
Graceanne carried the baby back into the carriage, and the groom raised the steps. They were off. Graceanne sank back on the cushions, shaking. He thought that little of her? She knew he’d never seen her as a lady of his own class, but to think she’d fallen so low? And he’d never even asked, he just assumed she was Nina’s true mother from the beginning, she realized now. Well, let him, then, she thought, her chin coming up despite the tears that threatened. Let him think the worst since he was determined to anyway. Graceanne Beckwith Warrington, vicar’s daughter and soldier’s widow, was not about to go begging his priggish lordship’s pardon.
* * *
Perhaps traveling by sea was not such a good idea. If the crew was ready to keelhaul their captain before, now they were ready to abandon ship altogether. The twins were just a bit hard to keep out of trouble among the ropes and sails and masts, hammocks, longboats, and oilskins. Leland didn’t dare take his eyes off them for a moment, lest one or the other decide to go swimming or fishing or repeating the sailors’ expletives when they found the boys underfoot.
The nursemaid was no assistance. When she wasn’t feeding the infant, she was cowering in her bunk, leaving Graceanne to deal with the baby instead of the boys. The superstitious chit heard one of the sailors say that now he understood why it was such bad luck having women on board, and she was positive they were going to sink. And the dog was even less of a help. Duke never found his sea legs and was sick as a pup—all over the
Silver Lady’s
teak decks. Furthermore, the dog could not be trained to use a chamber pot or the buckets provided for such a purpose, so yet another section of teak decking had to be designated as the dog’s necessary. The twins, on the other hand, delighted in aiming their spigots between the railings, especially when they sailed close to shore or another vessel.
The sleeping arrangements were also less than satisfactory. Mrs. Warrington insisted on having the baby in with her, since Shanna was a heavy sleeper and might not hear her cries. After the first night Leland didn’t believe a deaf man could sleep through the infant’s bawling. He didn’t, nor any of the crew. And she was so small! With Shanna awakened to tend to that scourge, the twins could not be left alone in case one woke up and wandered to the deck. So the widow shared her lovely bed with a mewling infant, and the Duke of Ware in the captain’s luxurious quarters was lumped in bed with two little boys who wriggled all night. The wet nurse, the blasted wet nurse, was the only one to have a cabin to herself.
The other thing Leland was finding awkward about shipboard travel was how hard it was to avoid his passenger. If they’d gone by carriage, he could have ridden alongside, or taken up the ribbons. Even a good-sized yacht like the
Silver Lady
did not offer a great deal of privacy. But the duke did his best, since seeing her—especially seeing her with that infant in her arms—made his stomach turn, and he was never seasick. Luckily she didn’t like taking the infant on deck because of the wind and the sun, so Graceanne stayed mostly in the elegantly appointed stateroom. Leland stayed mostly outside on the deck.
There was one blessing to the boat trip: On the first day out Les fell and cut his chin on a cleat. Now Leland could tell his wards apart.
* * *
Graceanne was enjoying herself enormously. The duke was keeping such careful eye on the boys that she did not have to worry about their safety, and he was keeping so consistently out of her company that she could rejoice. He was uncomfortable in her presence? Good. The less she saw of that blackguard the better.
And for once she didn’t have to see to the cooking or cleaning. The cook almost had a seizure when Graceanne stepped into the cramped little galley and offered to help. There was a steward whose sole job was to attend the needs of the passengers, and a cabin boy for everything else. Best of all, Nina was getting stronger. Even her complaints were growing louder than whimpers. Never had an infant’s crying sounded so sweet. Graceanne was content to hold her and sing to her and plan their future. She wasn’t quite sure where they’d live, Graceanne crooned to the infant, but she promised they’d live happily ever after, just like in fairy tales.
“Life is not make-believe, madam, and you do the child a disservice by teaching her otherwise.” Leland took off his oilskin coat and sat as far as possible from Graceanne and the baby in the stateroom. The twins were in his cabin napping at last—he’d insist they have an afternoon rest until they were fourteen at least—with the cabin boy guarding the door. With a summer rain squall raging on deck, Ware had no place else to go. “Perhaps we should now discuss where you and the children will live.”
“Yes, you said we could decide it aboard the yacht. The boys have been asking.”
He got up and began pacing. “There is nothing to discuss. We go to London.” At first, on his outward journey, Ware had pictured an idyllic family summer in Warwick, with picnics and simple country pleasures. Then, he’d planned, they’d all go to town for the fall Little Season. The twins would have nannies and tutors, and Grace would have a new wardrobe. Once she was out of mourning, he’d see she was eased into the life of the beau monde. Then, if she could find her place in his world…
Leland had never let his planning go beyond convincing himself that Tony’s widow deserved pretty gowns and parties.
But now? Summer was nearly over and the villagers in Warefield would never accept soiled goods. And there was no telling whom she’d run off with next. In London he could keep a closer watch on the widow, and since she was keeping up this perverse pretense of mourning, he wouldn’t have to introduce her to the
ton,
which could be even more morally narrow-minded.
“I prefer the country, Your Grace. It will be healthier for Nina.”
“Why? You said she wasn’t sickly.”
“She’s better, merely delicate.”
Something in her voice made Leland pause in his pacing and take his first good look at the infant. “Gads, if that’s delicate, I’d hate to see what you call ailing.” The child had a pinched look to her face and a bluish cast to her complexion. She trembled and jerked her hands around spasmodically. “By Jupiter, we should have gone by carriage.”
“No, I think that would have been worse, with the dust and the drafts and the jouncing around. The yacht is better appointed than many an inn we’d have to patronize.”
He nodded and resumed his pacing. “Ware House in London is even more comfortable. It will be easier to put it about that the child is Tony’s post-obit.”
Graceanne insisted. “The children and I will be happier in the country.”
“But I have business I need to attend to in London and duties at the Foreign Office, so that is where we are going.” He pounded on the chart table for emphasis, sending maps rolling in every direction.
“I know what it is,” Graceanne accused him. “You are making the trip longer, hoping Nina dies before you have to acknowledge her!”
“My God, woman, what you must think of me!”
“No worse than you think of me, I’m sure,” she shouted back.
“I never wished a child dead! How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”
“Then why won’t you ever look at her?”
“I just did! And if I hadn’t already decided to go to London, I’d change my mind. There are better physicians there.”
“Nina doesn’t need a physician; she just needs time and love. You never even bothered to look at her before. How can you know what she needs?” Now Graceanne was up and pacing to calm the baby’s fretfulness at the angry voices.
“That’s because all I ever saw was her red hair.”
“My mother had red hair. Everyone in Warefield will remember that.”
“I still have business in London.”
“Gammon, I can just imagine your business. What is it this time, an Oriental empress? Let us go on without you. If not to Warefield, then some other quiet place. You cannot want a houseful of children interfering with your ‘business’ in the city.”
“No!” he shouted, setting the infant to wailing again. “My wards stay with me.”
“Then, here,” she yelled, thrusting the red-faced bundle into his unsuspecting arms and heading for the door, “here’s your latest ward. Get used to her.”
* * *
Sergeant Rawley arrived in Wicklow, Ireland, a few weeks later. What he heard about Mrs. Warrington sent him riding neck-or-nothing back to England without a day of rest. According to Hallorahan, that “generous” duke had come claiming the major’s widow, along with a baby Rawley knew nothing about, except that it sure as hell couldn’t be the major’s. Major Warrington hadn’t been next or nigh his sweet young wife for over six months before taking that fever what killed him. Hadn’t Rawley been a-nagging at him the whole time to go visit the missus? That little darling wasn’t increasing then, and she sure as bedamned didn’t get in an interesting condition on the way home from Portugal. It sounded to Rawley like his lady needed more than an escort.
He’d taken the King’s shilling and given his arm; even without Mrs. Warrington’s blunt, he’d give that duke what-for.