“Because Lord Paxton said you’re a natural with horses. He told me all about how you trained Sheba all by yourself when you were only fourteen.”
“I doubt I could do that now. I’m out of practice.”
“My lord?”
“Yes?”
“Have you come to take away your horses? Mama says they belong to you.”
That had been his intent, but he sensed doing so would break this little fellow’s heart. And it wasn’t as if David needed them. The stables at Tonton were full, as were those at the London house. David shrugged. “Probably not at this time. While I’m here, perhaps I can teach you a thing or two about riding horses.”
The dimpled grin on the lad’s face gladdened David’s heart. “Oh, sir, you’re just as nice as Lord Paxton said you were! Thank you!”
David felt like a cheat. “No horses until it’s relatively warm and sunny at mid-day—before two in the afternoon.” He felt like a father. “First, though, we must finish gathering greenery. If it’s not too cold at mid-day tomorrow.”
Chapter Three
How fortunate Mary was to have Mrs. Ballard. That competent woman not only assisted her out of her soiled yellow dress and into her only other dress, but she also procured a cane to assist her in walking, allowing her to keep the weight off her injured ankle.
It wouldn’t do to rely on Lord Paxton carrying her about. The man was far too appealing. The effect he had upon her was most embarrassing.
In his presence, she felt like a schoolgirl exposed to her first flush of young love.
His slightest touch sent her trembling. When she was with him, she found herself weighing each word before she spoke. She felt suddenly inadequate next to him. Though she knew herself to be pretty, she did not think her beauty sufficient for a man of his stature.
Added to that feeling of inadequacy was the disparity in their stations. He was an aristocrat; she was the daughter of a poor curate and the widow of a soldier, who held the rank of captain. Strangely, she’d never felt the difference in their stations with the old lord. He treated her as if she were his equal.
She had also been completely unprepared for the son to be so handsome. He was far taller than his father and possessed of a head of thick, dark hair in perfect harmony with his dark eyes fringed with more thick, dark hair.
Like his father, he was the kind of man meant to be a patriarch or a leader. She could easily see him at the helm of a huge ship or wisely addressing hundreds of men in Parliament, both things his father had done before him. Though she’d not spent much time with the son, she’d seen enough of him to know he was accustomed to making decisions that affected others, that he was experienced in caring for others. Exactly like his father.
Whether he knew it or not.
What she did not understand was why he went from hot to cold so readily. One moment he would be all that was amiable; the next, he treated her as if she were a leper.
Throughout dinner she studied him and was determined that after she put Stevie to bed she would try to lubricate things between this man and herself with a quiet tête-à-tête.
“Your son has exceptionally good table manners for one of his tender years,” Lord Paxton said, glancing at Stevie, then returning his gaze to her.
“Thank you. Since there have mostly just been the two of us, I’ve always permitted him to eat with me.”
“Did he dine also with my father?”
She smiled. “Like you, your father kindly permitted it. I do thank you for allowing Stevie to sit at the big table tonight. It must have seemed an odd request.”
He shrugged. “Things have always been rather informal at Darnley.” He chuckled. “I remember one time Papa allowed my friends to come to the table without dressing for dinner.”
Her eyes widened.
“It was a rainy day, and we’d not been able to go out shooting, so it wasn’t as if we were actually dirty or anything like that, though I will own it seemed odd to come to the table in one’s boots.” He eyed the second chair near hers where she’d propped up her foot. “How does your ankle feel?”
“Remarkably good as long as I keep it elevated.”
“Good. I hope you won’t object if, in your stead, I take Stevie to gather more Christmas greenery at mid-day tomorrow.”
She offered him a smile. “So he told you about his lungs.”
He nodded.
“If the sun shines as it did today, and if it’s not too cold, he can go outdoors.” She hated having to be so protective, but she’d almost lost her child to lung fever more than once. If she lost Stevie, she would just as soon bury herself with him.
She settled her hand on her boy’s. “I’m very proud of you for telling Lord Paxton about your limitations.”
“What are limitations?”
“Things you cannot do.”
His fair lashes lowered. “I wish I didn’t have so many lim-tations.”
She patted his hand. “I do, too, love, but I know you’re going to get well now that we’re back at Darnley.”
“He was better at Darnley?” Lord Paxton asked.
A broad smile upon his face, Stevie nodded. “After we were here for a few months, I was permitted to stay outdoors all day long, and I didn’t even cough at all.”
Mary frowned. “Then we returned to London, and he got sick again. You know what the skies are there.”
“Indeed I do,” Lord Paxton said. “Nasty.”
At the completion of dinner, she turned to Lord Paxton. “After I put Stevie to bed and read his Bible verse to him, I hope you and I could sit for a spell before the fire.”
He didn’t answer immediately. Her cheeks grew hot as their eyes met. She felt as vulnerable as one standing before him completely naked.
He finally said, “I’ll wait for you in the drawing room.”
“What a good mother you are to tuck Stevie in every night.” David stood as Mrs. Milne hobbled into the drawing room a half hour later, putting her weight on the cane. He’d taken a seat on a comfortable sofa in front of the blazing fire. Bless Mrs. Ballard for always seeing to it that fires were built and stoked in every chamber throughout the winter.
To him, there was no more comfortable room than this, though when he tried to look at the chamber as others might see it, he realized it was a bit shabby. The sofa that had once been the colour of ferns had faded so much he doubted anyone else would be able to determine it had ever been green.
He had to own that to others, there was nothing special about this modest house. He’d often wondered why he had always prized this one residence so highly, and he’d come to realize it was because of the happy times he’d shared there with the people who meant the most to him.
And because it was by far the smallest of the Paxton houses, it was also the most cozy.
He indicated the sofa where he’d been sitting. “Come, let us both sit here. It’s the best seat in the room. Closest to the fire. And I’ve put your glass here. Is port agreeable to you?”
She nodded.
He braced himself to not be affected by her beauty. It wasn’t as if she overtly tried to make herself alluring. There was nothing seductive in her manner or in the way she dressed. Quite the opposite, actually. Her dress of faded blue muslin with a fairly high neckline was modest as well as outmoded. She was apparently disinterested in fashion.