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‘No, I want to be home now! I hate going to London.’
‘That isn’t what you said when we visited Astley’s and Gunter’s, the Menagerie at the Exeter Exchange and...’
Jamie surged to his feet, sweeping his plate from the table. It cracked into two half-moons and a flash of fear flickered through the storm on his face.
Jo instinctively bent to retrieve the piece closest to her, but Benneit’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm, stopping her.
‘Pick up those pieces, Jamie.’
She felt the rumble of his voice through the hand that held her arm. He was not exerting any force on her, but somehow she was incapable of extracting her arm so she sat there, watching the two Lochmores.
Jamie breathed deeply and then the word came out like a puff of smoke. ‘Shan’t!’
‘James Hamish Lochmore. Pick them up now.’
Jamie proceeded to kick the piece closest to him. As he was only in stockings this was not a wise move. The cut was not deep, but he stared at the tiny stain of red at the tip of his toe and ran into the small adjoining room where his cot was laid out, slamming the door behind him.
She waited for the wails of crying, but though she heard the creaking of the cot as Jamie flung himself into it, there was no other sound, just the Duke’s breathing, harsh against his clenched teeth as he glared at the door. He had not let go of her arm and she was not about to draw attention to herself. So she watched his fingers on the grey wool of her pelisse. The lines across each knuckle, sharply drawn. She wished she could put her other hand on his, soothe the tension, tell him not to worry.
His grip softened and though his gaze was fixed on the door as if engaged in a staring contest with it, his hand smoothed the fabric of her sleeve twice. Then he caught himself, looked down and drew his hand away. If she had not felt peculiarly bereft at his withdrawal, she might have smiled at the flush of embarrassment that marked his high cheekbones.
‘I apologise, Mrs Langdale. I did not want you to pick it up for him. He must learn to master these tantrums of his.’
‘Must he?’
‘Of course. He will one day have to assume serious responsibilities and there will be no room for such outbursts.’
The silence fell again as she weighed her words.
‘What a pity one cannot hire children.’
‘What?’
‘I think two or three would do. Once we arrive we could send them back.’
‘What the devil are you talking about?’
‘I am talking about a four-year-old boy trapped for days on end in a carriage with three adults, all in various states of ill humour. Jamie’s only sin is that, unlike some of us, he has not yet learnt to mask his ill humour. Having often travelled with a herd of ill-behaved children in carriages, I can assure you Jamie’s brand of tantrums would have gone utterly unnoticed in the Uxmore carriage over a mere hour’s journey. So perhaps if we filled the carriage with other children, Jamie’s behaviour might not appear so offensive to you. Goodnight, Your Grace.’
She didn’t wait for him to respond, but left the parlour. Running away before he could counter-attack was cowardly, but she, too, was tired and blue-devilled, and her arm was still pulsing from the warmth of his hand.
* * *
Benneit remained at the table, his mind searching for an appropriate response to Mrs Langdale’s lecture. He should at least have told her that it was inconceivably annoying how people who had no children always held such firm opinions about how to raise them.
Devil take the woman.
The silence from Jamie’s room was deafening and for a moment Benneit was struck with the horrid thought that Jamie had climbed out the window and disappeared. His heart squeezed and kicked as he stood and went to the door. It was ridiculous. Jamie was only four years old and, though he did sometimes wander off, he had never done anything truly dangerous.
Four years old. Almost five now.
Still only a whisper away from a babe, but already with a mind as sharp as a boy’s. He could see sometimes how confused that made Jamie, that internal struggle to place himself on either side. He thought himself a little man, ready to explore the world.
Jamie did need children about him to remind him he was only a boy.
