“Miss Thompson did,” Robert cried. “She said yes, she would like to be our mama, and she said she would be your wife too if you wanted.”
Too late Michael realized he ought to have clamped a hand over his son’s mouth the instant the lady’s name came out of it. The room had gone strangely quiet. Every Bedwyn sibling was present except the Duke of Bewcastle. So were Lady Alleyne Bedwyn, the two men who were married to the Bedwyn sisters, the Reverend Charles Lofter, the Marquess of Attingsborough, and two other guests. All of them had just been treated to the announcement that Miss Thompson would have him if he wanted her.
“Robert, my lad,” he said, “whatever have you been up to? And do I detect the devious mind of your sister behind it?”
“Georgie did not go, Papa,” his son told him earnestly. “She could not. She had promised. So I went. And Miss Thompson said—”
“Right,” Michael said briskly in the hearing of an audience whose members did not even pretend not to be avidly listening. “We had better find a private room somewhere to discuss this. About five minutes too late, I might add.”
He did not look about him as he took Robert’s hand in his and strode for the door. He did not even look to see whose hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed it sympathetically as they left the room. Good God. Really. Good God! If there were only a deep, dark hole available just beyond the billiard room, he would gladly jump into it and curl up there and never come out.
But...
She would have him?
Had she really said that? Had she meant it?
Really?
Eleanor spent an hour alone in her room in an attempt to compose herself and then went to her mother’s sitting room, where she also found Hazel and Claudia and Eve, Lady Aidan Bedwyn. She stayed after everyone else had left and persuaded her mother to have luncheon brought up. If she could have thought of a good enough excuse—a crashing migraine headache? A touch of smallpox?—she would have stayed there all afternoon and evening and all of tomorrow. But alas, she had duties to perform. She had agreed to help organize the children’s races.
Perhaps Robert had not said anything to his father. He knew, after all, that both he and his sister would be in trouble if the Earl of Staunton found out. But oh, dear, she had never felt more mortified in her life. What if Robert had told? It did not bear thinking of.
She left her room after dressing for the afternoon party and marched downstairs and outdoors with an almost martial stride. She was met with the reassuring sight of a number of house guests and neighbors invited for the occasion and hordes of exuberant, dashing, shrieking children. There was no sign of the Earl of Staunton or either of his children. And if it seemed that some of the house guests were looking at her with knowing smirks, then of course it was her imagination.
She continued her march to the lake and the area marked out for the races. The former Lady Morgan Bedwyn, now the Countess of Rosthorn, was some distance away, setting up for the archery contest. Her husband and Charles, Eleanor’s brother-in-law, were organizing a skipping rope contest. Rannulf Bedwyn and his brother Alleyne were checking the boats, in which they would be giving rides. Eleanor’s mother and Hazel were in the refreshment booth though a full-scale picnic tea would be served on the west lawn later. Judith, Lady Rannulf Bedwyn, was in the dress-up circle, where there were piles of old clothes and hats and fans and shoes and wigs culled from the attics so that the children could dress up to act out the stories she would tell. Freyja, Marchioness of Hallmere, was in charge of the rolling and tumbling races down the hill. A swimming area had been staked out at the lake and was to be supervised by Joshua, the Marquess of Hallmere. Christine would play games with the infants whenever she could find a spare moment. Aidan Bedwyn was offering fencing lessons with wooden swords in a roped-off area under the trees. Rachel, Lady Alleyne Bedwyn, was organizing a stand of bright trinkets and confections, which could be purchased with one of the five tokens issued to each child at the start.
Eleanor was soon busy with Eve, Lady Aidan Bedwyn, organizing children into age groups, helping them wriggle into sacks for the sack race and tie them securely about their waists, making sure everyone stayed behind the starting line until the signal to begin was given. She picked up the smaller children when they toppled over and set them on their way again. She was soon flushed and laughing and forgot the horrible embarrassment of the morning. Until, that was, Georgette arrived to run the three-legged race for the over-tens with Lizzie, and their fathers came along behind them to watch.
“Oh, goodness,” Eve said, “are you going to run the race, Lizzie? How splendidly brave of you.”
“She is going to run it with me,” Georgette said. “We will be close together—we have to be, don’t we?—and will have our arms about each other’s waist. We will need only one pair of eyes. We have been practicing.”
“It is the rest of the runners who are splendidly brave,” the Marquess of Attingsborough remarked, “to run against Lizzie and Georgette.”
Eleanor helped all five teams bind their legs together. Georgette and Lizzie were giggling. Lizzie’s dog was sitting alertly beside the marquess, panting, his eyes fixed upon his mistress. And then Eleanor straightened up and moved out of the way so that the race could begin—and her eyes met the Earl of Staunton’s. He did not smile. Neither did she.
He knew, she thought.
Becky, Eve’s daughter, and her brother Davy won the race with ease, not having stumbled or fallen even once. Lizzie and Georgette were last by a mile—or what would have been a mile if the track had been that long. They weaved about, fell, picked themselves up, weaved about again, fell again, and so on until they finally stumbled across the finish line and collapsed, giggling and clinging together while the other racers and all the adults in the vicinity applauded and even cheered.
“I don’t think,” Georgette said as she unbound their legs, “we won a prize, Lizzie.” And they were off on another paroxysm of snorting laughter.
“That was the last of the set of five races,” Eve said. “It is time to call Wulfric to present the prizes.”
Eleanor busied herself picking up and folding the cloths that had been used to bind legs, but she looked up when the Earl of Staunton spoke to her.
“I am so sorry,” he said quietly. “You must have been horribly embarrassed.”
“I was honored,” she said, not pretending to misunderstand him, “to discover that that two young children who met me only briefly at a country inn thought they saw their ideal of a new mother in me. I am touched that even after almost two weeks here they remain attached to me. Your children’s affection, so freely given, is like a precious gift that I will cherish in memory for a long time to come. You must not be embarrassed on my behalf, Lord Staunton, or on your own. I have no expectation of actually being their mother. I have a full life of my own that I enjoy.”
“I know,” he said. “Thank you for being so gracious. I have understood from your...manner during the past few days that you do not wish to encourage me to refine too much upon what happened during our walk together. You need have no fear that a pair of young matchmakers will harass you further or goad me into doing so. Ah, here comes Bewcastle.”
Wulfric was indeed approaching, Lord Arthur Bedwyn, the younger of his sons and Eleanor’s nephew, astride his shoulders and clinging to the underside of his chin with two plump little hands.
“Every participant in the races receives something, I gather?” the earl asked.
“But of course,” she said. “There are no losers at this children’s party. It is not like real life, thank goodness.”
