“Benjamin,” she repeated as if tasting his name for the first time. His heart soared at finally hearing his name on her lips. “From the youngest son of Jacob. Israel’s first king was a son of Benjamin. ‘The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him, and the Lord shall cover him all the day and he shall dwell between His shoulders.’ I mayfreely speak of the ‘safeness’ I experience when I am with you.”
“After you rest, we should set forward how you mean to proceed. I know you desperately wish to discover your sister, and we will not abandon our efforts to do so, but you should no longer be in limbo. The boy should be christened. You must make plans for his sake and your own.”
“Mrs. Taylor said something similar before we parted last evening,” she admitted.
“Did your sister not say you should name him?” Benjamin asked. “He must be nearly three months of age.”
“Yes, but…” she began. “Naming the boy feels as if I am abandoning Cassandra.”
“Just consider it,” he said diplomatically. After that, Benjamin simply joined her in playing with the boy. He touched the tip of his spoon in the yolk of the egg and knew contentment in watching the boy smacking his lips in delight.
“You should ask Mrs. Sullivan before giving him the yolk,” Miss Whitchurch chastised, but she was smiling, which pleased Benjamin greatly.
After their meal, he saw the lady back to her bedroom and turned the child over to Mrs. Sullivan and the maid Jane, who had become the trio’s maid of all works.
“I will see you later. Rest well. Everything will be set for the day when you awake.” Surprisingly, she did not respond. Instead, she walked into his embrace, her head resting against his chest once more.
“I like the sound of your heartbeat,” she said with a sigh, while his chest expanded with pride as her words took root. She wound her arms around his waist.
“I am grieved regarding all that you have suffered,” he murmured into her hair. “I wish I could have protected you from these last few months.”
“I am well now. Feeling your warmth around me. You have asimilar effect on the boy. We are blessed.”
She tilted her face up to him in what was surely an invitation, so he said, “I mean to kiss you, Miss Whitchurch. If you do not wish me to do so or believe it is too soon, step back now. Nothing will change between us. I will continue to extend my protection. Please do not consider a kiss as some sort of payment for my assisting you,” he instructed.
Ironically, in response, she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips against his. That was all the invitation Benjamin required. His mouth moved over hers—tentatively, at first, then more thoroughly. Even so, the kiss was far too brief for his liking. “Are you well?” he asked almost immediately.
“Very well. A bit raw,” she added, and blushed immediately. “Not the kiss, but rather the emotions.”
Benjamin had never kissed a woman as such. He wanted to spend another hour or so simply kissing her. Assuredly, he had kissed a half dozen or more young girls over the years, but none with any seriousness—not in the manner he was feeling now. “I like raw,” he managed to say. “How would the lady react if she knew I had already presented her with my heart?” his mind insisted on adding, but he did not say those words aloud. “Rest well, Miss Whitchurch.”
“Victoria,” she corrected.
“Victoria,” he said softly and caressed her cheek before turning to walk away, all the while wondering if Miss Whitchurch might learn to care for him in the manner he cared for her.
She did notknow how long she slept—not long enough to be refreshed fully, but enough that her mind was no longer a pot of gruel. “Where is the boy?” she asked when she found Mrs. Sullivan alone in one of the sitting rooms.
“His lordship took the boy with him into his study. Lord Thompson said he did not want the boy waking you up.”
“That was sweet of him,” she replied. “Perhaps I shall join them for a few minutes. His lordship is a busy man with many interests and should not be expected to tend to a babe not of his family.”
“As you say, miss,” Miss Sullivan said as she set her next row of stitches.
Victoria caught up her shawl and ran her damp hands across the wrinkles of her day dress to smooth them out. Her head was still more than fuzzy with having had only a bit over four hours of sleep, but she was exceedingly eager to learn how his lordship would treat her now that they had shared a kiss.
In reality, she was losing track of how long she had been at Macalhey House. Though she had unconsciously begun to feel as if the sparse second part of Lord Thompson’s terrace house was the home she never knew she required. She was living in a dream. “What woman did not wish to encounter a strong and caring man and a sweet babe nestled together as a family, while knowing security under one roof.”
She paused briefly before entering his half of the house. “You must not consider his life as yours,” she silently warned her heart. “Lord Duncan’s sons are not your family. Lord Thompson is not your husband nor even your betrothed. Yet, could they be?”
Despite a renewal of her qualms, Victoria was still eager to look upon her two favorite people in the world: his lordship and the child. Therefore, she placed her doubts aside to experience one more cherished memory. She found the pair in his lordship’s study. Lord Thompson was at his desk, the boy laid out on a cloth mat before him. His lordship was reading aloud, but she was not confident “what” he was reading, for she had never heard the passage before, though she thought it might be Shakespeare. Yet, it was no Shakespeare of which she was aware. The baby batted the air with his fists to the timbre ofhis lordship’s voice.
Ladies, if we have been merry,
And have pleased ye with a derry,
And a derry, and a down,
Say the Schoolmaster’s no Clown
