Page 32 of Regency Whispers: Scandalous Matches

‘Best behaviour,’ Jane promised.

‘I wouldn’t dream of anything else,’ Mr Stewart said.

Lady Mountjoy tapped him on the chest with the end of her fan. ‘You may be charming, Mr Stewart, but remember you are an honourable man as well.’

The countess spun and walked away.

‘What did she mean by that?’

Mr Stewart shook his head. He had lost his smile and looked a little worried.

‘What did she mean?’

‘I do have honour,’ he said quietly, ‘And that means if we had been caught...’ He trailed off.

‘You would have done the honourable thing,’ she finished for him.

He shook himself, as if trying to rid his mind of that terrible thought.

Chapter Ten

‘I’m not cut out for this,’ Tom murmured as his nephew burst into tears at the sight of him. He had been playing a game with one of the maids, some complicated version of hide and seek, where Edward seemed to be at once both the person who hid and the person who searched. There had been squeals of joy and laughter, but as soon as Tom had entered the room and suggested they get some fresh air, mostly out of concern for the exhausted looking maid, his nephew had started crying.

He would have to remember to pay his staff extra this week. They had all quite happily taken on extra duties to help him with Edward, not once complaining about the work involved, and he knew he had to show his appreciation. He was a fair and generous employer, but he didn’t want any of his servants leaving because they felt their extra efforts were going unappreciated.

Pressing one hand against his eye where the first pulses of a headache was brewing, he took a moment before he crouched down, bringing himself to Edward’s level.

‘It’s such a lovely afternoon, I thought we might go to the park. We could take your sailing boat and try it on the Serpentine.’

There was no response from Edward, only a continuation of the tears.

‘I don’t mean to interfere, sir,’ Hetty, the young maid who had been playing with Edward, said. ‘But I don’t mind playing with the young master.’

‘You’re good to say that, Hetty.’ He hesitated. The boy was his responsibility, but his head was starting to throb, and he had an overwhelming sense of being trapped. He needed to get outside, to gasp in lungfuls of cool air, and arguing with Edward until he was ready to come wasn’t going to speed things up. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or two. Be good for Hetty.’

With a mounting feeling of guilt, as if he were abandoning the boy for good, he grabbed his coat and hat and quickly left the house. He walked briskly, as if he were being chased, only slowing when he had put a good distance between himself and home.

Forcing himself to try and forget all the troubles that were plaguing him, he tried to focus on the things he could see and hear. It was a trick taught to him by an old army friend during his recovery from the head injury. Then the frustrations of the slowness of his recuperation, the mountain of effort it had taken even to take a few short steps outside the front door, had been overwhelming. He had been on the verge of giving in to the melancholy and despair that had threatened to consume him when this old friend had suggested he try looking outside of himself, even just for a moment.

Now he made himself slow down and empty his mind of everything except what he could see, hear and smell right at that moment. He let the noises of the street wash over him, the clatter of carriage wheels and the clopping of hooves, the chatter of groups of women as they passed him and the excited whoops of joy from children out with their nannies. Slowly he felt his heart rate slow and some of the stress seep from his body.

‘Mr Stewart!’ a familiar voice called.

He wondered whether he could get away with ignoring it, pretending he hadn’t heard. All he wanted was to be alone now, to have a few minutes of peace before he allowed himself to start thinking of the future, to decide what he needed to do with his nephew.

It was Lady Mountjoy, and he knew she wouldn’t let him slip away, pretending he hadn’t heard. He glanced up and had to suppress a groan. Walking beside her was Miss Ashworth, looking poised and serene, and actually smiling at him as if pleased to see him. It had been a week since he had last seen her, sending a note and telling her it might be best for him to keep his distance after their near miss at the Framlingham ball.

Now a week had passed, there would be no harm in being seen strolling together out in public, chaperoned by Lady Mountjoy. Suspicion had never really fallen on them anyway, but he had needed a few days’ space to try and work out what exactly had happened in the glasshouse. There had been one moment, no more than a few seconds, when Miss Ashworth’s body had been pressed against his. He had been able to feel her heart hammering in her chest and the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress. She’d looked up at him and in that moment he had wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to claim her as his own.

It was not the first time he’d felt attraction for an unsuitable young woman, but it was the first time he’d acted on it. Normally he had complete control of himself, complete restraint, but there in the glasshouse he had been unable to do anything but brush his lips against Jane’s. He should be thankful that the group of ladies had entered when they had or who knew what could have happened?

These past few days he had kept his distance, fearful of what he might feel when he saw her, even though he knew he was being ridiculous. It had been circumstance, nothing more. A combination of the dark, exotic atmosphere in the glasshouse and the thrill of almost being caught.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said, turning to face the two women, trying to summon a smile.

‘Good afternoon. Is something amiss, Mr Stewart?’ Miss Ashworth asked, her forehead crinkling with concern. ‘You look pale.’

He cursed himself for being so easy to read and gave a nonchalant little shake of his head.