“I am so sorry about the fall, my lady. She wandered away from me but a moment, and next thing I know she’s on her back.”
Miranda waved off the governesses worry and smiled. “It is nothing to trouble yourself over. Children will tumble from time to time. No harm was done.”
“Now then, little miss,” the governess chirped, reaching for Ursula’s hand. “It is time to say good-bye to Mama until this evening. We are to have tea, and then a nap so you’ll be bright and chipper for Christmas supper!”
Ursula brightened, slipping her hand into the governess’ without a fuss. “Do you think there will be jam tartlets with tea?”
“There might just be, little miss. I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”
Roger suddenly found those large, blue eyes turned on him again.
“Do you like jam tartlets, Mr. Thornton?”
He couldn’t help a smile at the earnest curiosity in her question. “I do. In fact, I am particularly fond of raspberry jam tartlets.”
“Off with you now, Ursula,” Miranda cut in as the other nurses began herding the rest of the children back to the house. “Say good-bye to Mr. Thornton.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Thornton!” she called as she walked away.
“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Ursula.”
When Roger turned back to Miranda, he found her watching him with a slack jaw and a disbelieving expression.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she merely stared without speaking.
She gave her head a little shake. “Nothing. It’s just … you were marvelous with her.”
He shrugged. “She’s a darling girl, just like you said.”
“You ran to her side faster than I could when she fell.”
He frowned. “I thought she had hurt herself and was concerned. I apologize if I overstepped.”
Placing a hand on his arm, she grinned. “Of course you didn’t. I’m the one who is sorry. I simply wasn’t prepared for you to … well, to be so kind to her. You are not obligated to want to meet her, or know her or …”
Roger took hold of her hand and squeezed before letting it go. “Miranda, I like children. I wish to have some of my own someday. I have experience with little girls thanks to Emily. Being kind to her was no hardship.”
Her smile widened and she inched closer to him, bracing both hands on his waist. Roger flinched and looked about, but found that her three friends had pointedly turned their backs and begun the trek back toward the house. It appeared they were completely alone on this side of the house.
“You were very sweet,” she said, coming up on tiptoe and pressing her body against his. “And did you notice? You didn’t stammer once.”
“Children are easier to talk to than adults,” he replied. “They are kinder and less likely to judge someone based on their flaws.”
Tipping her head back in a clear invitation of a kiss, she held his gaze. “From where I stand, you seem all but perfect to me.”
Roger bent to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. She melted into him, parting her lips and offering her tongue with a coy, teasing sweep against his bottom lip. He drank from her with long, lingering presses of his lips and deep plunges of his tongue, drunk on the intimacy of being so close to someone—so unrestrained and free. To be with someone and feel safe being himself, not holding back, and finally having an outlet for his desire, seemed like a dream come true.
They parted and simply stood there holding one another for a while, the mist of their breaths on the cold air mingling together. He couldn’t afford to dream, not about Miranda. Perhaps about some other faceless woman he could pursue when he was ready—with the confidence he could learn with Miranda for practice. If he kept reminding himself of that, he wouldn’t allow himself to feel things he ought not.
He was her courtesan, nothing more. What would a confident, experienced courtesan do with free access to his keeper and a bit of privacy? Probably seduce her right here on the snowy ground, or up against a tree.
But, just now, Roger didn’t want to be a good courtesan. He simply wanted Miranda’s company, which he’d been craving all morning. The woman had tied him in knots in a matter of days. He ought to run, put some distance between them until tonight when he would inevitably find his way to her bedchamber.
Instead, he offered her his arm. “Walk with me for a little while.”
Accepting his invitation, she clung to his forearm and let him guide her farther away from the house. For a few minutes they said nothing, though the silence felt comfortable. Typically, Roger found himself forced to make light, easy conversation to keep others from wondering why he hardly ever spoke—saying just enough to avoid suspicion. Miranda had put him at ease, and he didn’t feel the need to perform with her.
“You want to be a father.”
Her sudden statement startled Roger, and he gave her a bewildered look. She offered a shy smile and shrugged.
“You mentioned it earlier, and after seeing you with Ursula and knowing how much affection you have for your sister, I think you would be a wonderful papa.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean it. I also think you would make some woman a wonderful husband.”
He drew them up short, nearly tripping over nothing at the impact her words had on him. When he looked at Miranda, he could see she realized she’d stepped into dangerous territory. She avoided his gaze, cheeks flushed as she toyed with the edge of one glove.
“You are charming when you wish to be, and handsome, and I enjoyed myself with you last night. You also desire children and come from a good family. There are many women of the ton who would put one another’s eyes out to nab a groom like you.”
Roger wrestled with feeling flattered as well as leery. Surely she was simply being kind. The things he’d revealed to her last night had painted him in a vulnerable light, and she wanted to reassure him. It couldn’t be anything more than that.
“You flatter me,” he murmured, running his fingers through his hair.
“It is not flattery, but simply the truth,” she murmured, still avoiding his stare. “Would you ever try to court someone with the intent to marry? I understand your trepidation, but you’ve managed to charm me. Why not someone you could wed?”
With a sigh, he leaned against a nearby tree, hands buried in the pockets of his greatcoat. “I think I could, for the right woman. Someone who made me feel comfortable speaking to her freely. Someone who doesn’t think a stammer makes me an idiot. And … and I would hope a child wouldn’t be born with my … my problem.”
She finally looked at him then, understanding softening her expression. “It cannot be passed down that way, can it? Your siblings do not stammer. Did either of your parents?”
“No.”
“There, you see? And besides, all children are worthy of love and affection … even the ones with stammers. A woman who cared for you would not care, and would love your children with all her heart.”
Deep down, he had always known that. The problem had always been working up the nerve to settle on a woman with the hopes she wouldn’t reject him the way Iris had. Her scorn had changed him profoundly, and not necessarily for the better.