Nick walked back to his office with a buoyant step. He’d had a remarkably good morning in the company of Alice.
His steps slowed, remembering their brush with danger in that rundown quarter. He didn’t like to think of her involved in such hazardous work. He wondered over this new friend of hers—Miss Endicott—who seemed to hold such influence over her.
These questions revolving in his mind, he arrived at his new London headquarters. He’d arranged to have it purchased through his London agent before he’d even stepped foot back on his native soil. The imposing gray granite office building was a suitable testimony to his years of toil. It overlooked the Bank of England and the Stock Exchange in the heart of the financial district. His gaze traveled farther down Threadneedle Street. Only a few blocks away was the office of Shepard and Steward, where he’d been forced to leave so dishonorably fifteen years earlier.
A pity, he could no longer show Mr. Shepard what he’d lost in dismissing him. His ire rose anew at the thought of her father disinheriting Alice. How could a man with so special a daughter be so cold-hearted? And what of her brother? Hadn’t he defended his sister’s share of the business?
He turned slowly, glancing to the east, remembering again the encounter with the derelict man. Beyond the wealth represented by this financial district lay neighborhoods filled with men who’d been broken by adversity. Had the Lord sent him back to his homeland to do something with his wealth to help these men and women? Together with Alice to mitigate the circumstances of their lives?
Not one given to romantic notions, he believed in the blessings that came to those who worked hard. Nevertheless, he recognized his good fortune was also due to God’s grace. Having achieved far above what he’d set out to, he wanted to put his money to good use in education and decent housing for those who were laboring the way his mother had.
His office’s shiny brass plate winked at him: Tennent & Company, Ltd. He entered the building and let the door shut behind him, muting the traffic sounds and sunshine.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Tennent.” Clerks greeted him as he walked past them and headed for the lift to his private office at the top.
His secretary, a young man who reminded him of himself so long ago, jumped up from his desk as soon as Nick entered the outer office. “Good afternoon, Mr. Tennent.” He handed him a stack of papers. “I have the letters for you to sign. Mr. Paige stopped by and desires to make an appointment about the impending purchase of Bailey and Company.”
Nick took the stack and began glancing through it. “Yes, arrange something for Thursday morning or afternoon. I may be leaving early on Friday.”
“Yes, sir. Another appointment?”
“What?” He glanced up. “No, just leaving early for the weekend.”
The clerk stared at him.
“What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing, sir. I—just—you’ve never left early before. You’re usually here later than most of us.”
“Well, that is about to change.” He carried the letters to his desk and picked up a fountain pen and began to sign the letters. He handed them back to the young man. “I want you to do something for me.”
“Yes, sir.” His secretary waited, the letters in his hand.
“I want you to find out everything you can about the firm Shepard & Steward, Ltd. Investments. I believe that is still the name of it. At least the name of Shepard will appear in it as the principal partner. Understood?”
The younger man gave a quick nod. “Very good, sir. I’ll get on that right away.”
“Assets, liabilities, the members of their board, you know the things I expect.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dig deep. I want to know what they’ve invested in over the years.”
The young man grinned, enjoying the painstaking work of investigation as much as seeing the accumulation of profits. Nick had chosen well.
When the secretary had closed the door softly behind him, Nick sat down at his desk chair and swiveled it around to stare through the slatted window blinds. The afternoon sun cast several buildings including the Bank of England in shadow. Beyond it rose the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Nick’s thoughts strayed from the sight to the things Alice had told him—or not told him—but which he’d observed in the few hours he’d been in her company.
He stroked a finger against his lips. The dangerous encounter today had had one benefit. It had allowed him to take a step closer to Alice—she’d accepted his friendship. Yet, for all her gratitude, he sensed a reserve in her that went deeper than that natural to a lady toward a gentleman of scant acquaintance. Her strange words came back to him, stunning him as much now as they had when she’d uttered them. “No matter how unlovable I might feel.” How could such a beautiful, accomplished woman with every material advantage feel unlovable? He would have given her his whole heart if he could have. Instead, a poor young clergyman had been the one privileged to show her love.
Dear God, why? He didn’t miss the irony. He’d left, thinking himself too poor to offer Alice anything; yet, she’d chosen a man probably more destitute…almost as if rejecting everything her father’s world stood for.
Alice had forsaken all wealth to follow her heart. Nick had never known that kind of love, except for his mother’s to his father.
Would Alice hold his wealth against him now?
By early Friday evening, however, Nick reclined in a tub of steaming water and smiled to himself, like a man replete after a full banquet. Perhaps he oughtn’t to have felt this way, but he couldn’t help himself.
He’d enjoyed the train ride from London in the company of Alice and her son. Any trepidation he’d had over the militant Miss Endicott had quickly dissolved upon meeting the lady. She’d proved an elegant, charming woman in her fifties who was clearly fond of Alice.
After some debate over suitable gifts, Nick had brought Austen a boy’s adventure book and Miss Endicott a box of chocolates. Undecided between a bouquet of flowers or a luxurious box of chocolate bonbons for Alice, he’d finally settled on a book for her as well.
“It’s the latest Sherlock Holmes tale,” he said as she removed the brown paper wrapping in the train compartment.
“The Sign of the Four.” She read the title on the cover and smiled at him across the seat. “Thank you. I enjoyed the first Holmes mystery and I’m sure I shall this one, too.”
Austen sat close to his mother in the corner of the compartment during the ride, clutching his raggedy stuffed rabbit closely to his side.
As soon as they arrived at the Richmond house—looking little changed from fifteen years ago—they had separated to their rooms until dinnertime. Nick was shown to a spacious bedroom on the first floor. The masculine-furnished room with its four-poster mahogany bed was quite a contrast from his cramped, hot room under the eaves during his first stay in the house.
Now, soaking in the hot, scented water of the tub, he devised a strategy to follow over the coming two days the way he did when approaching the purchase of a company.
During the train ride, he’d questioned Alice some more about her years away from London. She’d spoken little about the time immediately following his departure, but had been quite effusive about her years at the parson-age. In retrospect, Nick decided he had one sole advantage over the late curate. Nick was alive. No lifeless memory could compete in the long run with a living, breathing person.
His spirits lifted as he thought of the coming weekend. He emerged from the tub and donned the evening clothes laid out by his valet.
He adjusted the gold cuff links in his starched white shirt as his valet tied his black bow tie. After helping him on with the jacket, the man gave his lapels a final smoothing down then stood back, giving Nick a full-length view of himself in the cheval glass.
Nick eyed himself critically. The black swallowtail coat and matching waistcoat fitted him well. His white shirt collar stood up stiffly around his neck. Would he pass muster before Alice? She who had grown up among the well-dressed?
Thanking his valet and giving him the evening off, Nick made his way downstairs. No one else was about as yet, so he wandered onto the terrace.
The evening air was a few degrees cooler than the heat of London. Nick glanced about him. The low table and comfortable sofa were still out here, in the same place they’d been when he and Alice had played that fateful game of chess. He could still remember the feel of her soft lips against his.
He sighed and went to lean his elbows on the wood balustrade. The tinkle of a fountain in the garden made a pleasant sound.
His thoughts drifted back to Alice. How would she view him now? Would she accept him fully into her circle? She had turned into the beautiful woman he’d envisioned. A wonderful mother as well. Unlike many women of her class who relegated their offspring to their nanny, she had seemed to enjoy her child’s company.
He debated how soon he could express his feelings to Alice. Would she be ready to accept his suit? Would she ever be over her husband?
He had learned over the years to be patient, to bide his time. He knew how to keep his eyes on a company for many a year until the time came to approach the owner and make an offer that couldn’t be refused. He also knew there were times when one had to be more aggressive and make a preemptive strike, buying out a company that in future could be unwelcome competition.
However, neither way seemed clear with Alice Lennox.
“May I join you out here, or do you prefer a few moments of solitude?”
Nick turned at the soft tones of Miss Endicott. Not Alice.
Hiding his disappointment, he gestured to the older lady. It wouldn’t do to alienate Alice’s friend and mentor. “Not at all. Please do.”
Miss Endicott was a tall, slim woman, fashionably dressed in a soft gray evening dress. Her still-dark hair was coiled at the nape of her neck.
She stopped at the latticed balustrade and looked out at the quiet evening. “Refreshing after London, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
They stood a few moments listening to the tinkle of cascading water and the chirp of crickets around them.
“Whenever I’m here, I wonder why I continue to live in London.” A trace of humor underlay her quiet words.
“Why do you?”
“That is where my present interests lie.”
He glanced sidelong at her. “You’ve influenced Mrs. Lennox in the direction of her interests as well.”
“The Housing Society, you mean?” She considered. “Yes, perhaps to an extent, but she was already helping the needy long before. When she came back to London, after she was widowed, I suppose I thought it would help her to overcome her grief.”
Had Alice been so grief-stricken at the loss of her husband? “Did you ever meet her husband?”
“No. I didn’t know Alice until she returned to London four years ago.” She looked down at her hands resting on the balustrade as if debating. “Alice seemed quite lost after Julian passed away, even though they both knew his death was imminent. He’d been ill off and on almost from the day she met him. But I think she kept denying it, even when he knew very well he wouldn’t last long.”
She gave a deep sigh before continuing. “When I first met her, she seemed a little like a child who doesn’t understand why she’s found herself alone again.”
He looked sharply at her. “Again?”
Miss Endicott pursed her lips, musing. “I sometimes think of Alice as a little girl looking for a loved one…who’s never quite been there for her.”
Nick thought of Alice’s lack of a mother and absent father. “She never found it at home.”
There was understanding in her eyes. “No.”
But hadn’t she found it with Lennox? The thought was a bitter pill.
They remained silent a few more minutes. Then the older woman looked at him. “You know, you’re the first gentleman Alice has invited out here to Richmond.”
“Am I?” The calm words belied the impact of her words. He cleared his throat. “Was Julian—I mean, Mr. Lennox—never here?”
She gave a small laugh. “Oh, no. Mr. Shepard did not approve of an impoverished curate for his only daughter.” She leaned her back against the balustrade and eyed him. “You must be very special.”
He made a noncommittal sound, feeling once again that he had no advantage over the penniless cleric.
“It takes a great deal of drive to have succeeded in owning your own firm when you started out as a clerk.”
He shrugged, unable to deny her appraisal or willing to accept any undue merit for his success. From what she’d said already, his wealth would be viewed as a liability in Alice’s eyes. “A lot of work and the good sense to know when to take the opportunities God has given me are all the credit I can claim.”
She nodded her head. “No false modesty. I like that.”
“I have never learned the complexity of what passes for conversation in polite circles.”
She laughed. “Nor have I. I like a person who knows his own mind and isn’t afraid to speak it.” She paused. “It almost makes me hazard to ask you what your intentions are toward Alice.”
The two stared at one another in the gathering dusk.
He considered. If anyone’s blessing were necessary, he calculated it would be this woman’s. Before giving himself time to draw back, he gambled on forthrightness. “Alice is the only woman who has ever meant anything to me. I want to marry her.”
She blinked. “I see. You don’t mince words.”
“You said you appreciated directness.” He looked away from her and toward the fountain. “The fact that I know what I want doesn’t mean I don’t acknowledge certain—hurdles.”
“Julian.”
The name reverberated in Nick’s mind like a thousand ripples pushing him away from his goal. “Mrs. Lennox seems to have loved her late husband very much.”
“Yes.”
He glanced sidelong at Miss Endicott. The tone wasn’t wholly affirming.
“There is love, and there is—” Again, she hesitated.
“Worship?”
She turned her eyes on him, as if assessing him. “I didn’t know Alice then. I can only conclude from what I’ve heard from her that she feels a deep gratitude to him.”
The words arrested his attention. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“I gather from Alice herself—the little she speaks of her past before Julian—that she was very unhappy growing up. And then her father sent her away. I don’t know the reason, but it seems almost as if she was banished.” She shook her head, “At a time when most girls are planning their coming out.”
Nick’s hold on the balustrade had tightened at the mention of her exile. Would this be one more thing to come between Alice and himself?
“Alice was very young and impressionable when she met Julian. And lonely. She had never really known a father’s love. When she met Julian, I don’t know how much was love and how much was a desire to be loved.” She gazed onto the gardens as if looking into the past. “Whereas her father was a man consumed by his drive for money, Julian had no interest in material gain, not for himself at least, only to help those in need.” She sighed. “Julian was about as far as she could go from her father’s world.”
Her words confirmed what Nick had already feared.
She turned back to him, her voice becoming brisk. “I don’t know how much Alice has told you about me. I believe in the rights of women.”
He smiled slightly. “Alice mentioned a few things…”
“I just say this in order to tell you that I’ve done my utmost since her widowhood to encourage Alice to be her own person. She never really had a chance to explore who she was since she left home. That is one reason I’ve persuaded her to take charge of this charitable work. It gives her something of her own.”
“I see.” The picture Miss Endicott painted for him gave him much to think about. Her next words surprised him even more.
“I would hate to see her give that up in a second marriage.”
He met her look squarely. “I have no interest in clipping her wings.”
She nodded. “Only a person strong enough in his own identity can allow another the freedom to fulfill hers. Just don’t go too fast with her, that’s what I suppose I meant to say when I came out here.”
Before he could think of how to reply, they both heard a sound at the opened French doors.
Alice stood silhouetted against the lamplight within. He drew in his breath at how lovely she looked. She had changed out of her travel outfit into a deep blue evening gown. Nick allowed his gaze to travel over her slim figure. Her hair was drawn up high atop her head, with soft wisps framing her nape and temples.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Miss Endicott chuckled. “Not at all. Come and join us, my dear.”
She took a few steps onto the terrace. “Dinner will be served in a little bit.” She turned to Nick with a smile. “I’ve left Austen with Nanny Grove. Thanks to you, his head is filled with thoughts of pirates and mutiny on the high seas and buried treasure. I hope they don’t keep him awake too long.”
Miss Endicott moved toward the door.
Alice reached out an arm. “Oh, please don’t leave on my account, Macey.”
“I’m going to fetch my shawl. I’ll peek in on Austen.” She glanced at Nick with a friendly look. “It was lovely chatting with you.”
He bowed. “The pleasure was mutual.”
After Macey left, Alice turned to Nick, feeling unaccountably shy. It was almost as if it was the first time she’d really been alone with him since the evening they’d met. Maybe it was the fact of the semi-darkness or that they were both dressed in evening clothes. There was enchantment in the twilight air.
His handsome elegance took her breath away. She turned away abruptly, determined to bring her thoughts under control. “It was so nice that you could come today, Nicholas.” It still felt oddly intimate to be pronouncing his Christian name aloud.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
Casting about for something to say, she motioned to the gardens. “Shall we walk a bit before dinner is announced? I can show you some of the grounds, though—” she gave a jerky laugh “—not much has changed since you were last here.”
He fell into step beside her. “I had little chance to see the grounds when I came with your father.”
She wondered what his memory of those few days was, but didn’t ask, afraid to resurrect her own feelings of that time. “There is one new thing. Father decided a few years back to dig a pond. He wanted to stock it with fish, but I think only the goldfish survived. Would you like to see it?”
“Lead the way.”
Their footsteps crunched over the small pebbles of the path. Soon they reached the willow-lined pond and Alice led him off the path onto the grassy perimeter of the pond. “I remember the summer Father hired a crew of workers to dig the pond and landscape the area around it.” She sighed. “A pity he hardly enjoyed it once it was stocked with fish.”
The plop of a frog from the edge into the water broke the stillness. They stopped as if by mutual consent. Nick turned to her. “Do you still have the tennis court?”
She smiled at him, relieved at the safe topic. “Oh, yes. I hope you are ready for that rematch.”
His white teeth flashed in the gathering dusk. “Name the time and place.”
“Tomorrow mid-morning?”
“I’ll be ready.” He stood so close she caught a whiff of his cologne, a sharp, fresh scent.
She took a step back. “Shall we return?”
“If you’d like.”
She walked by him. He stood perfectly still until she had passed him, then followed silently in her wake.
She was relieved he didn’t do anything to detain her. She compared his gentlemanly conduct with that of many of the gentlemen of her acquaintance, who were only too eager to “befriend” a lonely widow. She had grown adept at foiling all advances.
The thought of someone taking Julian’s place had always filled her with repugnance. No one could be what he had been to her. Why then did she feel like the girl of sixteen drawn to her father’s employee, an intense young man so wholly unlike Julian?
Nick walked outside again in the early morning before breakfast. He’d had trouble falling asleep the evening before, his thoughts troubled over Miss Endicott’s words for a long time. He found it hard to reconcile the picture she painted of Alice with the poised and self-assured woman he’d seen thus far. What tormented him the most was what Miss Endicott had said about Alice’s banishment. Had she had to pay an unreasonably high price for their innocent kiss?
Had he left her all alone to face her father’s wrath?
Nick wanted to ask her what had happened when he’d left, but had already sensed a constraint in her since the evening they’d met again.
Without consciously thinking about it, he strolled along the same path Alice had led him the evening before and found himself back at the pond.
The early morning rays shot through the feathery willow fronds. Ripples in the dark surface attested to the presence of fish. He approached the edge of the water.
A sudden voice halted him.
“Now, you mustn’t be afraid. Only babies are afraid.”
Nick peered through the low branches of the willow tree to see Austen squatted by the edge of the pond. He had his stuffed animal in one hand and a toy sailboat in the other. He placed the boat into the water and then set the floppy rabbit atop it.
The animal wouldn’t stay on and the boy fumbled to get it balanced on the narrow surface. “That’s all right, Moppet, I’ve got you. No, you can’t get off yet. Just a few minutes.”
He let go and pushed the boat away from him. “There you go, Moppet, I told you you’d be all right. It’s not so frightening anymore, is it?”
At that moment, the boat dipped a fraction to leeward and the rabbit plopped into the water. The boy gasped and reached his arm out. “Hold on, Moppet, I’ll come for you.”
But the rabbit drifted away, a few inches beyond Austen’s reach.
Nick ducked under the willow boughs and reached his side. With a glance around, he spotted a broken stick. “Not to worry, we’ll fish him out.” He maneuvered the animal, which was beginning to sink, alongside the edge of the pond.
Austen immediately scooped up the soggy creature.
“A few hours in the sunshine and he’ll be none the worse for wear,” Nick said in reply to the boy’s troubled look.
“Th—thank you,” he whispered.
“Nothing to thank me for.” Nick kept his tone casual, afraid the boy would run off. “Watch you don’t let Moppet drip on you. Would you like me to carry him for you?”
The boy shook his head but heeded Nick’s warning and held the animal farther out from his body.
Nick hunted around for a way to keep the conversation going. He was curious about Alice’s son. “It’s early to be out. Were you thinking of pirate ships this morning?”
Austen nodded.
Nick indicated the sailboat. “That would make a good pirate ship if you hoisted a skull and crossbones flag on it.” He took the string up from the ground before the boat drifted off. As the boy watched him, he paid out more line until the boat was in the middle of the pond. “There’s not enough of a breeze here, it’s too sheltered by the trees. What we could do after breakfast, perhaps, is take her down by the river. Would you like that?”
The boy nodded, more vigorously this time.
“How about some breakfast first then?”
Austen stood up. Nick brought the sailboat back into shore and lifted it out of the water. “Come along then. You put Moppet out to dry on the terrace and maybe he’ll be ready to go with us after breakfast.”
Austen skipped ahead of him. Nick watched the light blue sailor suit disappear around a bend and felt a pang. He could have had a son like that. Where had the years gone? All he’d known was work. He’d allowed little to sidetrack him from his goal. Well, he’d reached his goal and found it wasn’t enough.
Macey served herself to some sausage from the sideboard and set down the silver tongs. “I like your gentleman.”
Alice looked up from the array of breakfast dishes. “I beg your pardon?”
Her friend filled her plate with eggs and broiled tomatoes before replying. “I said I approve of your Mr. Tennent. He strikes me as a man who knows what he wants.”
Alice felt an immediate dislike of Macey’s description. It made Nick sound too much like her father. “Mr. Tennent isn’t mine. I’m sure he’d be the first to tell you that. We met very briefly years ago, and I was so glad to see him again, to see that he’d achieved what he’d set out to do. I always felt badly that Father had been such a difficult employer.”
Macey chuckled. “Excuse me, my dear, I didn’t mean to imply that you had any but friendly interest in Mr. Tennent.”
Even as Alice searched the older lady’s expression for irony, she continued. “I was very impressed with him. I had a nice conversation with him before dinner, and of course, during. It was a very pleasant evening all in all.” Macey shook her head. “It is hard to picture him from his humble origins.”
“Yes, I’m still overwhelmed by what he has become. He told me once that his mother was a governess, so I’m sure she gave him a good foundation in learning and manners.”
“Ah, that would explain it.” Her friend seated herself at the table. “May I pour you a cup of tea?”
“Yes, please.” Alice finished serving herself and joined Macey. “He wasn’t with Father’s firm very long.” She looked down, fingering her knife. She’d never told the other woman about her friendship with Nicholas. “Father wasn’t very fair to him when he had a riding accident.” At the look of inquiry on the other woman’s face, she nodded toward the window. “It happened right here at Richmond. It was really my fault.” She proceeded to recount the horseback riding incident to her.
“Goodness, my dear, it certainly wasn’t your fault. You behaved very responsibly. Victor should have been horse-whipped for instigating such a thing.”
“I agree.” She shook her head bitterly. “Father wouldn’t even send him away. Instead, he ended up firing Mr. Tennent when he couldn’t perform his work.” That wasn’t the whole truth but she couldn’t talk about the rest. It was too private and too painful a memory.
Macey set down her fork and knife and pondered. “The last time I saw Victor, he was at the Goodwins’ house party right before the Derby. He was showing off his new wife as if she’d been one of the fillies.”
“Yes, he’s married now and has two children. He’s been my solicitor since Julian passed away. Geoffrey recommended him to me, though my insignificant affairs are hardly worth his trouble.”
Alice stirred her tea then blinked at the sight of Nicholas and Austen entering the room together, her son actually smiling up at the man. It gave her a pang. Julian should have been walking into breakfast with his son. She strove to keep her tone cheerful for Austen’s sake. “Good morning, you two. Where have you been?”
“Mr. Tennent is going to take me to the river to help me sail my boat after breakfast.” With those words, Austen walked over to the sideboard and began surveying the food, as if he’d said the most normal thing in the world.
With a quick look at Nicholas, Alice rose and handed her son a plate. “Is that so?”
Nicholas came over to them and picked up a plate of his own. “I met Austen at the pond this morning. Unfortunately, there was no breeze for him to sail his boat.”
She drew her brows together. “Austen, dear, I’ve told you you mustn’t go to the pond by yourself.”
Austen hung his head. “I forgot, Mama.”
Not wanting to scold him in front of others, she spooned some eggs onto his plate. “Well, I’m glad Mr. Tennent found you.” She turned to Nicholas, grateful that he’d been there. “Thank you for taking care of my son. He doesn’t realize how dangerous a large body of water can be.”
“Doesn’t he know how to swim?” he said in an offhand tone as he helped himself to the array of food.
She felt a prickle of defensiveness at the question. “No, he’s only seven.” She lifted her chin a notch. “I never learned myself.”
“I’m amazed. You were so accomplished at all sorts of sports.”
“I spent all my time away at school and there was no appropriate place. The river’s current here is too swift.”
“Of course. I didn’t learn until I was an adult.” Nicholas turned to Austen and winked. “Would you like to learn to swim? There’s nothing more fun than swimming, not even sailing.”
Austen stared up at Nicholas and slowly nodded his head. Alice noted how similar their shade of deep brown hair was and she felt a catch in her throat. Neither Julian’s nor her hair color was as deep a brown. Austen had inherited his paternal grandmother’s dark, rich sable shade.
“Good. This is the right time of year.” He continued serving himself. “I remember how sumptuous your breakfast fare seemed to me the last time I came out here.”
The words distracted her from the notion of how Nicholas proposed to teach Austen to swim. “Did it really?”
“Oh, yes, I’d never seen anything like it.”
Macey offered Nicholas tea or coffee.
“Coffee, thank you. A custom I got used to in America.”
Alice listened to them chatting, still surprised at how well her friend and Nicholas were getting along. She encouraged Austen to eat. At the moment he seemed too interested in listening to Nicholas. It was the first time she’d seen him interested in anyone besides herself and his nanny. She wondered how this man had succeeded in enthralling both her son and friend in such a short time. Macey was very particular in her acquaintances, shunning most of Alice’s set, and Austen…Alice frowned, not liking to dwell on her son’s shyness, which seemed extreme at times.
As they were finishing up their breakfast, Nicholas turned to her. “Do you think we could postpone our tennis match until after our sailing expedition?”
She smiled with an effort, realizing it was good for Austen to have a male friend. “Of course. Where are you two planning to go?”
“To the river. We can go to the boat landing.”
Alice forced herself to relax. She knew she tended to be overly protective of Austen but he was all she had left. “There’s a strong current at the river. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye on Austen.”
She felt torn. “It’s just that I know how little boys are. You need to watch them all the time.”
“Why don’t you come along with us, then?”
She smiled gratefully. He seemed to understand. “Yes, I should like that.”
“I promised Austen we’d go right after breakfast. Is that all right?”
“Yes. Why don’t we meet at the front of the house in ten minutes?”
Nick handed the line to Austen. “Hold on tight, if you let her go, she might end up all the way in London.”
The little boy looked at him with alarm and Nick couldn’t stop from reaching out and ruffling his dark hair. With the exception of the darker shade, it was as straight and silky as his mother’s.
“Don’t worry, if that should happen, we’d send out a search party.” He winked across Austen’s head to Alice, who stood beside her son. She was looking particularly fetching in her wide hat with a gauzy yellow ribbon fluttering in the light breeze. She wore a light muslin dress in a matching shade of yellow and held a frilly parasol in one hand. “I assume you have some sort of launch here we can use on the river.”
She motioned to the pair of flat-bottom boats tied up at the side of the landing. “Yes, these punts are ours.”
“You see there? No cause to worry.” He steadied Austen’s hand on the line. “All right, bring her in a little. See that boat coming downstream? We don’t want her to run into it.”
A party of summer residents was rowing toward them, their laughter floating over the water.
Alice’s hand came onto her son’s shoulder. “I see the steamer coming. You must move back.”
Nick turned in the direction she was indicating. The large steamship bringing passengers from London was churning the water far downstream. “It’s coming on the other side. I think we’ll be all right here.”
“I don’t know, it creates quite a wake as it passes,” Alice murmured, worry in her tone.
“We’ll move back then.” Nick squatted down and helped Austen bring in his boat.
The noise of the paddlewheel grew. When the steamship passed by them, Nick waved and Austen followed suit. The young boy laughed when the passengers crowded along the deck waved back. Nick turned to him in surprise. It was the first time the boy had behaved so spontaneously.
“They don’t know us! Why are they waving?”
“People like to wave at strangers when they pass them from a train or ship. Haven’t you ever waved at people from a train window?”
He shook his head.
“Well, then next time you can do it.”
When the steamer had passed and the water became quiet again, Austen let his sailboat back down into the water.
“Watch it, Austen,” his mother cautioned as he bent far over the landing. “Don’t lean so far out.”
“It’s all right, I’ve got him.” Nick was crouched beside the boy.
Alice smiled at him ruefully. “I’m sorry. I just worry.”
“It’s natural, I suppose,” Nick said.
“Do you think Moppet will be dry when we get back?”
Nick squeezed Austen’s shoulder gently. “I don’t know. He may need all afternoon after the dunking he took.”
“Do you think we could put him on the boat next time?”
“I think we could tie him on. That way he’ll be sure to stay on. He might get a little damp from the spray, but he can always dry off again in the sun.”
Austen nodded and continued his focus on his sailboat.
Nick found himself enjoying the time as much as the boy. It had been eons since he’d played. He remembered sailing a boat fashioned out of old newspapers. Austen’s was an expensive wooden boat, detailed down to the view inside the cabin of the pilot’s seat. But the experience was the same, he realized. Pretending to be commanding a sailboat over the seas.
He glanced up at Alice, who was watching them. As their eyes met, he smiled. She returned the smile but then quickly glanced back at her son.
Nick reminded himself to go slowly with her. Like a butterfly ready to take flight, she seemed as unreachable as she had fifteen years ago.