Page 68 of The Dangerous Lord

Amber candlelight caught Ian’s stricken expression. He ruffled William’s hair. “I tell you what. I’ll stay here for a while, and if the monster comes back, I’ll tell it not to bother you any more. I’ll be very firm.”

The boy’s face brightened. “You ... you mean, like you told that nasty driver not to bother Lissy? And he listened and went away?”

“Yes,” Ian said solemnly. “Exactly like that.”

“You promise to stay until he comes? You promise?”

“I swear it,” Ian said with a fierceness that warmed her heart.

Felicity held her breath while William screwed up his little face in thought. Then tugging Ian’s hand into his arms, he clutched it against his chest and sank back against the pillow. “All right. The monster’ll listen to you. You’re big, and you can beat him up.”

She watched in bewilderment, then envy as William closed his eyes, with Ian’s hand held tightly to his heart like a precious toy. Within moments, she could hear the blessed sound of even breathing and see his features relax into sleep.

Tears stung her eyes. How many times had she assured him it was only a dream, yet been unable to calm his fears, having to wait until he exhausted himself with crying before leaving him? Yet Ian came in here with his commanding presence and calm assurances, and William felt safe.

She’d known the boys missed Papa, known that they often ran to Joseph for attention because the footman was the only man in the household. But until now she hadn’t realized the full extent of their longing for a man’s special strength. Her poor, fatherless tin soldiers. She wiped away tears, but more filled her eyes, coursing down her cheeks to drip off her chin and onto the wrinkled sheets.

“I’m sorry,” rumbled a voice from the other side of the bed. “I am so sorry, Felicity. You were right, and I was wrong. I should never have taken them into that damned room.” Her throat tightened when she saw him brush the hair back from William’s forehead in a paternal gesture.

“It’s not that. This probably sounds foolish, but you made him feel better when I couldn’t. I guess I’m a bit ... jealous.”

“You’ve no reason. It’s my fault he suffered in the first place. I ought to be shot.”

Strong words indeed, coming from a man who generally hid his emotions. Her heart twisted when she saw the pain harshening his already rough features.

She tried to tease him out of his somber mood. “Shot? Oh, no, much too tame.” She glanced at the other boys, who were thankfully already asleep, then added, “The punishment should fit the crime. Beheading, that’s what you need. Then we could add your head to those stakes in Madame Tussaud’s exhibit.”

His gaze shot to hers, mirthless and even more wounded.

“I’m joking. You mustn’t blame yourself. You couldn’t know how he’d react.”

“But you did.”

“What do you expect? I’ve lived with him all his life.” She kept her tone light. “Besides, you probably never had nightmares yourself and had no idea what could bring them on. I imagine you were like Georgie, able to sleep easily after the most frightening adventures. William has an active imagination, I’m afraid.” She gave a shaky laugh. “He tries to be as tough as Georgie, but never quite succeeds.”

Ian said nothing for several moments, fixing his gaze on William’s chest, which now rose and fell in perfectly contented sleep. Then a world-weary look flitted across Ian’s face. “I never had adventures, frightening or not. So I never had nightmares.”

She caught her breath, barely suppressing her excitement. He was talking to her about himself instead of evading every subject. Eager to seize the rare moment, she exclaimed, “No adventures! Every boy has adventures. Surely you must have run wild in the woods or sneaked away to a bear-baiting or something.”

“No.” He took a great, shuddering breath. “I was a very ... dutiful son. I was never allowed to be anything else. Father believed that heirs should be ‘prepared’ for their responsibilities at a young age, which meant not indulging them in frivolities. So there were no wild escapades in the forest, I assure you. My mornings and evenings were spent with a tutor, and my afternoons with my father, who took me over the estate and made me memorize all the tenant’s names and how everything worked.”

What a dreadful way to spend one’s childhood. She’d never considered this aspect of being a great lord, but with extensive property probably came extensive duties. “Is that why all the lords run so wild when they come to London? Because their fathers are such hard taskmasters?”

“Not if I’m to judge from what Jordan has told me. My father was unique. I suppose I should be grateful for it, since his ‘preparation’ has been useful in my management of Chesterley. But once in a while ...” He trailed off.

“Once in a while, you would have enjoyed an outing or two.”

He managed a smile. “I sound like a spoiled child.”

“Or a man who never got to be any kind of child at all.”

His gaze shot to hers and held. For that brief moment, she read so much yearning in him that she marveled she hadn’t seen it before. Then in that manner he had of shielding himself, he flattened his expression and glanced away. “It proved advantageous. It enabled me to endure ... later happenings more easily.”

His tone warned her not to pursue the subject further. It took all her effort not to ask him then about his aunt, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing up such a dark subject. On the other hand, she could at least take this chance to learn more about him. “What about your mother? Did she agree with your father’s philosophy?”

He was silent so long she began to think he might not answer. Then he sighed. “Who knows? She never said. She feared crossing him. They married because Father needed her fortune to pay off my grandfather’s debts. It was arranged between him and her family in Spain. She was terrified of Father and let him rule her life—and mine—until the day she died.”

A lump formed in her throat at the thought of Ian as a child, being fed the gruel of duty with little love to sweeten it. “When did she die? How did she die?”