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He left, then stopped and looked back. ‘But I would place the little one in a home where she can never find out about her true birth, one with a lot of spiritual guidance. She will need it.’
Chapter Twenty
Warrington had stood at the window an hour, waiting for the carriage, watching the place the town coach would first become visible, before he saw Dane, riding Chesapeake. The carriage was next.
Warrington strode to the front entrance, stepping outside as the vehicle stopped.
‘Father,’ Jacob squealed, opening the town-coach door. A woman’s arm reached for him, but missed, and the child scampered out.
‘Careful,’ Warrington shouted. Jacob dashed to the doorway and threw himself against his father’s legs.
‘You’re back,’ Jacob shouted. ‘I knew you were back. I knew that’s why Uncle Dane said we must come to London.’
Warrington could see the same family traits of his brothers in Jacob’s long-limbed stance. He had the jaw that could jut into the same stubborn pose.
‘Yes,’ Warrington said. ‘Did you behave for Uncle?’
He nodded his head. ‘We fished. We rode. We did everything.’ He stretched the last word out, making it take longer to speak than all the other words he’d said.
Warrington knelt to one knee in front of his son. ‘I brought you black rocks from an island we visited, and some shells I’m sure you’ve not seen before, and a hat made by a wise old woman who said the boy who wore it would grow tall and strong.’
‘I’m tall and strong now.’ He flexed his arm and made a muscle. ‘Uncle says I can carry a sword soon—then we’ll fight.’
‘Oh, I look forward to that.’ Warrington grabbed his son by the shoulders and gave him a quick pull against him. Jacob somehow always smelled like porridge. He let him go, thankful his brother couldn’t see his eyes.
‘Can I have a real sword?’ his son asked.
‘Soon.’ He stood and deep inside himself he was pleased Jacob wasn’t old enough yet to heft the weapon. Jacob stayed at his father’s side.
Whatever else Cassandra had done wrong, she’d done one thing right and given him Jacob. Although he was sure that if she’d known how the future would turn out, she’d never have let Jacob be born. If only for spite.
Dane had dismounted and given the reins to the coachman. Then he helped the nursemaid from the carriage. The servant brought out the little girl. The older woman almost stumbled over her skirts as she moved down the steps, but Dane steadied her.
Dane’s boots clicked on the walkway as he strode to greet his elder brother. He and Dane could not be any closer in age or likeness unless they were twins. But Dane made his own light and danced through shadows. He just preferred to keep his nose in a book, or a ledger, or a garden.
No one ever mentioned the slight—very thin—scar running from in front of the ear to the base of his cheek, but Dane would complain of it itching. An occurrence that only happened around females who could offer sympathy.
Dane stopped at his brother’s side, reaching out to shove Warrington’s shoulder. ‘When you were late, I was sure you and Ben had a fight and had fallen overboard. I was going to send out a search for you next year, or the year after. Whenever I started missing you and had run through your funds.’
‘I had a wonderful time. Would have stayed longer, but knew you’d have my house tumbling down if I didn’t return—and I missed Jacob.’ Warrington strode around Dane, leading his son into the house.
Broomer walked out from the servants’ quarters, giving a huge bow to Dane. Dane handed his hat to the manservant.
Broomer gave another bow and took the hat, holding it in both hands as he left the hall.
Dane’s easy smile of welcome stayed on his face. Then he saw Melina at the top of the stairs, stilled and immediately his gaze darted back to his brother, questioning.
Warrington made sure his face showed nothing. He introduced Melina. ‘She’ll be taking care of the children when the nursery maid needs help.’ Warrington looked at his brother, giving him a brief nod. They moved together up the stairs, Dane at the end of the group.
Warrington saw Melina’s smile when she saw the little girl.
‘You must be tired from the journey,’ Melina said to the nursery maid. ‘Let me take the little angel.’
With a stoic face, the maid handed the girl into Melina’s waiting arms.
