She spun back on her heel. “My lord?”
He held a hand to his chest. The somber gentleman she’d come to expect had a lighthearted glint in his eyes. “Would you reject my offer of gratitude by not joining me and the children for ices to reward your efforts?”
“I didn’t….” Her cheeks warmed yet again. “Oh.” She’d been about to assure him she’d not assisted Charlotte for the promise of ices or rewards and stopped with the sudden realization that he merely teased.
Charlotte reached for her fingers and Patrina forced her gaze from the marquess’ riveting stare. “Oh, please say you’ll come. Please.”
The proper thing to do would be to politely decline. What would the scandal sheets say about Lady Patrina being escorted to Gunter’s with the Marquess of Beaufort and his two, motherless children?
Only… She dropped to a knee yet again. “How could I ever refuse an offer of an ice?’ She tweaked the girl’s nose.
Charlotte giggled. “That is splendid, my lady! Isn’t it, Papa?”
Patrina glanced up to find the marquess studying her and Charlotte with his usual solemnness. He held Patrina’s gaze. “Splendid, indeed.” His mellifluous baritone washed over her like warmed chocolate, so very different than the curt, gruff responses she’d come to expect of this man.
As she took her leave she realized the absolute folly in accepting the marquess’ offer. Yet as she peeled back the curtain to stare out at the passing snow-covered streets, a smile played about her lips.
CHAPTER 5
Weston remained closeted in his office. He tapped the tip of his pen rhythmically upon the immaculate surface of his oak desk.
Protect her.
Lady Patrina had encouraged him to protect Charlotte, yet, something in the deep, aching hurt in her eyes and etched in the lines of her heart-shaped face suggested she spoke of something so much more than his daughter’s antics earlier that day.
Not for the first time since he’d come upon Lady Patrina at the frozen waters of the Serpentine, did he wonder at what could make a young lady so melancholy. She couldn’t be more than twenty or so years, and though it seemed an eternity since he himself had been that tender age, he remembered the carefreeness of youth. He’d been very nearly that age when he’d first lost his heart to Lady Cordelia.
She’d been just nineteen, vivacious, bright-eyed, flirtatious, a diamond of the first waters—in short everything Lady Patrina was not. The subtle differences in the two women most likely spoke volumes to Lady Patrina’s character. After all, as long as he’d known Cordelia, she would never have done something as plebeian as tossing a snowball, nor for that matter, personally escorting a lost child home to her family.
The gold brocade curtains fluttered, and his pen froze mid-tap. He glanced up, and dropped his pen.
“I wonder what I should do with Charlotte for giving me quite the terror today,” he said into the quiet. He tapped a finger along his chin. “Perhaps I should take away her desserts through the end of the Christmastide season.”
A gasp met his ponderings, followed by boyish snickering.
Weston leaned back in his seat and rested his forearms on the sides of his chair. “Then Daniel must certainly be punished, too.”
The little imp from behind the curtain giggled.
His son stomped out and glowered in Weston’s direction. “Whyever would you punish me? She’s the one who left her nursemaid.” He jabbed his finger at the gold brocade.
Protect her, my lord.
Weston quirked an eyebrow in Daniel’ direction. “But as her brother, it is your responsibility to protect your sister.” Where he could. Though, Lord knew he charged the boy with a difficult task. Especially considering that Weston had done a rather deplorable job in protecting his children from hurt at their mother’s hands.
Daniel scuffed the tip of his shoe along the ivory Aubusson carpet. “But she was looking at gowns, Papa. Gowns,” he said with a more pointed emphasis.
Charlotte shoved aside the curtains and raced out. “I wasn’t looking at gowns. I was looking at a toy theatre.” She clapped her hands together and a wistful expression settled on her face. “Oh, Papa, you should have seen it. It was magnificent. It had—”
“Papa doesn’t care about your toy theatre,” Daniel snapped. Charlotte and Daniel proceeded to argue, their voices increased in volume.
“That is enough,” Weston said quietly. They immediately went quiet. He stood. “Now, I gather there is a reason you two have hidden away behind my curtains?”
Brother and sister exchanged a look. “Ices,” Charlotte said on a frown.
“Beg pardon, Char?”
She stuck a foot out and tapped it on the floor “You promised to take Lady Patrina and us for ices. You know, for saving me,” she said, drawing out those last three words.
“Only ninnies eat ices in the winter,” Daniel muttered.
His sister shot a glare at him. “Then you don’t have to have one.” She dusted an imaginary speck of dust from her white frock. “You may stay in the schoolroom with Nurse and we’ll go for ices.”
“Why do you get an ice anyway? You’re the one who left Nurse.” Brother and sister proceeded to shout over one another.
“Silence. Silence!” Weston repeated with more firmness when they continued to argue. They fell quiet with Daniel favoring his sister with a pointed glare. He perched his hip on the edge of the desk. “Charlotte,” he began softly. “It’s not appropriate to take Lady Patrina for ices.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Whyever not?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Because, if he wasn’t careful, the young lady with her kind spirit and regard for his children, posed a threat to the steely guard he’d erected about his heart. “Well, for one, it is the winter and a gentleman must not be in the company of a young lady in the confines of a carriage.”
Charlotte scratched at her head. “Why?” Yes, his spirited daughter would certainly require close attention in the years to come.
“Because improper things can occur,” Daniel said on a drawn out sigh.
“What kind of improper things?”
Oh, for the love of all that is holy. He glowered Daniel into silence and then directed his focus to Charlotte. “A gentleman can’t just go escorting any young lady for ices.” Ices might as well constitute dances and afternoon calls and a real showing of interest. All of which he could not offer a lady.
“Why?” Charlotte persisted. If she’d been born a male, she could have out-argued all the barristers in England combined.
“Because you just don’t do it,” Daniel interjected. “You only take ladies for ices if they are your intended or wife. And she’s not his wife or his intended.”
The hard edge in his son’s words gave Weston pause. When had his son become this cynical, angry young child? And how had he not realized it before now? Gone was the grinning, dimple-cheeked boy with a fun spirit. In the wake of his mother’s betrayal he’d become this combative, older-than-his-own-years boy before him now.
“That’s not necessarily true,” Weston said.