Of course he didn’t need to think it over. Alice was his; she just didn’t know it yet. And if she needed first to prove to herself—or rather, if she needed him to prove to her—that the marriage bed need not be something to be endured, he would do it. With pleasure.
On the way back from Jackson’s, he paused by a little flower girl selling violets and bought a posy. Alice deserved better of course, but right now he needed to get back to her as quickly as possible and make up for the way he’d bungled things.
He found her out in the garden with his daughters and Lucy. They were gathered around a pair of easels.
“Look, Papa. Miss Bamber painted us a painting,” Judy exclaimed.
But James only had eyes for Alice. “I’m sorry I rushed off like that,” he told her quietly and handed her the violets. She thanked him, raised the posy to her face and inhaled the scent. He couldn’t see her eyes, couldn’t work out what she was thinking. Was she upset with him for rushing off like that? She had every right to be.
“She did one of me and Mittens, too,” Debo said. “See? It looks just like us.”
“Very nice,” he said, and nodded vaguely at Miss Bamber.
“Lina painted one, too,” Alice said, and James gave up. He couldn’t possibly discuss with her what he needed to discuss, not here, with his daughters clamoring for his attention. He turned to look at Miss Bamber’s paintings, and his jaw dropped.
He’d expected some kind of amateurish schoolgirl painting, but what he saw took his breath away. The main painting was an ink and watercolor of the big tree that grew in the center of the garden, as lifelike as if it were growing from the paper. “Can you see us, Papa?” Judy pointed excitedly. “Look. There we all are!”
Half hidden by the leaves of the tree and looking slightly fey, as if they were part of the tree, six faces peeped out; Judy, Lina, Debo, Alice, Lucy and himself. It was a commemoration of the Great Tree-Climbing Adventure. There was even a feline-shaped ginger smear that vividly portrayed an escaping cat.
He examined the tree painting carefully, then the one of Debo and her cat, then several others of the garden and one of Judy staring pensively up into the tree with an expression that made him want to pick his daughter up and hug her.
He turned to Miss Bamber. “But these paintings are marvelous, Miss Bamber. I had no idea you were this talented.” Lucy looked down, blushing.
“None of us did,” Alice said. “She’s kept it a secret up to now, but Lina winkled it out of her.”
Lina smiled proudly. “Miss Bamber is teaching me how to paint and draw, Papa. See?” She produced a pad filled with small sketches and paintings, and he slowly turned over page after page, examining each with solemn attention.
“They’re very good for a girl her age,” Lucy Bamber said quickly. There was an edge of defensiveness in her voice. Did she think he was going to dismiss his small daughter’s efforts? She did, he saw. As others had done to her in the past?
“They are very good,” he agreed gently. “Lina has always loved to draw, and I’m very grateful you’ve helped and encouraged her. Even when she was very small, she used to draw pictures on the letters Judy wrote to me. Judy wrote me all the news, and Lina brought it to life in pictures.”
His two older daughters looked at him in surprise. “You remember?” Judy asked.
“Remember? I’ve kept every last one of those precious letters. All the years I was away at war, they were all I had of you girls. I’ll show you them when we go home.”
He turned back to Lucy. “Miss Bamber, may I buy that painting of us all in the tree?”
“No, you may not.” She dimpled. “I’ve already given it to Lina.”
“Buy the one of me and Mittens, Papa,” Debo demanded.
“And the one of me,” Judy added. “Please?”
Before he could ask, Lucy tore both paintings off the pad and handed them to him. “Please, it’s my pleasure,” she said when he started to argue. “I don’t usually show anyone my work. You”—she gestured to the small group around her—“are the first in a long time.”
“I hope we won’t be the last,” he said seriously. “You have a real talent. I’m going to have these framed.”
“Girrrls? My lady? Miss Bamber?” a Scottish voice called. Nanny McCubbin appeared around a corner. “Time to come in for luncheon. There’s nice hot soup, so come along. You don’t want it to go cold. And wash your hands,” she called after them as the girls ran ahead.
“I’ll be in in few minutes,” Lucy said. “I’ll just pack up my things.”
“Then Lady Charlton and I will go ahead and warn Cook,” James said before Alice could offer to help. He held out his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it.
“I’m sorry I rushed off like that before,” he said once they were out of earshot. “I hope I didn’t upset you.”
“Not at all.” Her voice was cool.
“You took me by surprise.”
“So I gathered.”
He stopped and, taking both her hands in his, faced her. “Alice, you did me a great honor this morning, offering me the priceless gift of your trust. I’m a clumsy oaf, and I’m sorry if I offended you in any way. If your offer is still open, I would be privileged to accept it.”
He held his breath as she gazed up at him. He was drowning in those sea blue eyes of hers.
After what felt like an age, she said, “I’m glad.”
They resumed their walk back to Alice’s house. “So what do we do now?” she asked.
“I’ll make all the arrangements.”
“What arrangements?” she asked, adding, “I’ve never done this before, so I’m unaware of the conventions.”
“There are no conventions in our case,” he said. “We’ll make it up as we go along.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “You mean you’ve never had a mistress before?”
“No.”
“Oh. I thought all men had them.”
“Not all men.”
“Then what are these ‘arrangements’ you’re talking of?”
“Do you plan to take me to your bed here, then?”
She gasped. “With Lucy in the room above me? And the Tweeds and Mary knowing? Of course not.”
He smiled. “And presumably you wouldn’t want to come to my bed, with my daughters sleeping upstairs—and I’ll warn you now, they have a tendency to jump on me in bed at appalling hours of the morning. Generally with a cat in tow.”