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“He does?”
“Yes.” The little girl nodded. “That the wolves are bullies, hungry and desperate. They want to make people bleed so they can prey on them, so they won’t grow more powerful than the wolves.” She frowned. “Is that what you mean?”
Oh, dear. The child was intelligent as well as pretty and that would spell trouble for Percival if he didn’t raise her properly. “Perhaps I do, but the only thing you need to remember as you grow through life is this. Never be a wolf. There will always be folks who need your help, and you will need assistance from others. But you can’t do any of that if you’re always snapping at helping hands. Keep your heart and intentions as pure as you can. Nothing else matters.”
Deborah nodded. Her eyes were solemn as if she had tucked away the advice for later. “May I call you mama? If I really wanted to?” Those eyes had turned soulful. The way she held her head was exactly the same as Percival did when he felt vulnerable—he’d done so at the rout after giving in to having a drink. “Sometimes I… I just need a mama.”
Oh, how well she understood that sentiment! Unfortunately, her own mother had expired years ago from a disease of which there was no cure, gained from not being selective with the type of men she serviced.
“Of course, sweeting.” Lavinia fought back the tears, but they insisted on flooding her eyes anyway. She patted the top of Deborah’s head. “No matter what you need, I’ll try to provide it, for I know what it feels like to not have a mother’s love.” Then she couldn’t help herself. She took the little girl onto her lap and hugged her. In that moment, her arms—her heart—didn’t feel so very empty.
Deborah laid her head on Lavinia’s shoulder. “I’m worried about Papa.”
“How so?” The child smelled of lavender soap and sweat. It was the sweetest perfume imaginable.
“He has been out of sorts and grouchy.”
“I know.” She rocked the girl back and forth. The fact Deborah trusted her enough humbled her and another wash of tears sprang to her eyes. “He’s a bit sick at present, but he’s trying hard to heal.” His progress was measured one day at a time, and slowly he would break the hold that drink held over him.
“Will he?”
“I think he just might. He’s a strong fighter.” For the last two days, he’d been everything she’d ever hoped for in a husband. No longer did grief appear so often in his expression.
“I’m glad.” Deborah traced the beadwork on the bodice of Lavinia’s blue day gown. “Will you have a baby?”
She sucked in a breath of surprise. “I’m not certain. Why?” Only time would tell in that regard as well.
“Anna says if you give Papa a son, he’ll forget about me because he’ll have his heir. She says that would be a shame because the baby wouldn’t be with his real countess or a lady that had good blood.” She frowned as she paused for breath. “Do you have good blood?”
“Excellent blood, but everyone ignores that fact.” She fumed inwardly. “I’m going to sack that nursery maid.” A member of the staff that continually spread such gossip and in front of a six-year-old didn’t deserve to work in this house.
Some minutes later, Percival came into the room. He was splendid in a suit of charcoal gray and a waistcoat of peridot satin. Immediately, his expression creased into concern. “Why are there tears? What is amiss?” He sought out her gaze. “Are you well?”
“Everything is splendid.” Lavinia wiped her eyes as she peered at him. “Among other questions, Deborah wants to call me mama occasionally.”
“What?” Shock sprang into his face. “I… I…” He struggled with his own emotions, before one won out over the others. Happiness smoothed away the lines of anxiety. “It’s a capital idea, poppet,” he finally whispered, but his gaze wandered to the sideboard that remained devoid of decanters. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow, and when he turned his head, his gaze found hers once more. “Is that acceptable to you, Lavinia?”
“Oh, yes. More than acceptable.”
“Huzzah!” Deborah hopped off her lap only to climb onto his. “My new mama.” She beamed as she looked into his face. “Isn’t it lovely, Papa?”
“Indeed.” But he frowned as if he couldn’t puzzle out his emotions.
Lavinia’s heart lurched. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so happy, but if you would rather she did not—”
“No.” Percival peered into her eyes and uttered the word again. “It’s wonderful and progress for us.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “We all must learn to grow together. No more languishing, and no more letting memories of the past control what our future will hold.”
“Truly?” She could hardly dare to believe this was happening.
“Yes. I want Deborah to call you mama. She needs this and frankly so do you and I.”
“I’m so glad.”
“As am I.”
For a few moments, life was near to perfect as she held his gaze and Deborah played with the stickpin in the folds of his cravat. “I think I’m going to cry again.”
“Then I shall give you a handkerchief.” When he grinned at her in that special way he had, that way he used to in the early days of their relationship, the way he’d looked the night after the rout, heated tingles raced down her spine.
