Chapter Ten

“Mrs. Taylor, have you finished your lessons?”

Charlotte paused, her hand on the door to the kitchens. She pivoted and dipped a curtsy. “For now I have, my lady. But I’m to help Miss Meyers plan the Michaelmas party later this afternoon.”

“And do you intend on spending the time until then in the kitchens?” Lady Flora asked, her head cocked to the side. She was outfitted in a practical puce riding habit, a no-nonsense military cap perched on her black curls, and a crop tucked under her arm. She appeared as exactly who she was—a competent sportswoman.

“A helping hand is never amiss in the kitchens, my lady.”

Lady Flora smiled. “I’m sure not. Still, would you be willing to assist me with my lessons today? I have ten wee ones, including little Steven Cunningham.”

Charlotte rocked back on her feet. Ten children at the park was definitely a handful, but the addition of little Steven made it more precarious. She was almost tempted to suggest the boy be left at the home, but dismissed the thought. Steven might be challenging, but he deserved to partake in the riding lesson as much as the other children.

“I haven’t ridden in several years, and then only a handful of times.” She licked her lips. “Is that all right?”

“I merely need help with keeping all the children in one place. This group is advancing to cantering, and while I’m up on the horse with one of the tots, I don’t want the rest to take it upon themselves to explore the park. Duncan usually helps me, but he had business to see to.”

Charlotte smiled. “I won’t be as intimidating as Mr. Duncan, but I’m certain I can keep young Steven from bolting away when your back is turned.”

“Oh, thank you!” Lady Flora turned on her heel toward the back door. “I’ll meet you in the front. The children will be lining up shortly.”

As the Scotswoman had said, Charlotte found their young charges lined up on the walk under the watchful eye of Mr. Larson, the history instructor. Several of the girls squealed with delight when they learned Charlotte would be accompanying them on their lesson. Lady Flora brought a placid white mare around the side of the building to join them, and the group began their march to the park.

Opting to walk next to young Steven as a precaution, she kept up a steady stream of conversation. She pointed out the colorful assortment of produce on display at the corner stand, asked if he heard the trill of the warblers up in the trees, and commented on the crisp breeze, which she suspected promised afternoon rain. All through her talk, little Steven remained silent, occasionally glancing in the direction she’d indicate, but mostly content to look about him. Charlotte hadn’t expected him to speak. The boy hadn’t spoken one word since he had arrived at the home, and she doubted his muteness was a result of trauma. She suspected that was just how Steven was.

When they arrived at the park, Flora demonstrated the proper position to assume for a less jarring canter. After explaining the mechanics, she numbered off the children to allow them a chance to put her lesson into practice. Charlotte stood by, quietly watching the children climb upon the white mare and practice cantering with huge smiles on their faces. She also made sure Steven stayed close by her side.

A loud screech whipped her head around. Two of the girls stood huddled together, pointing to something in the tree. When she approached, they looked up at her with tear-filled eyes. “We’ve seen that little squirrel every time we’ve come to the park,” young Betsy cried, “and that big bird just scooped him up and carried him away.”

Charlotte doubted the girls were seeing the same squirrel but knew better than to tell them such. It was easy to make out a large sparrowhawk enjoying its squirrel lunch, and she was sorry the sight was so distressing for the girls.

“Nature is not always beautiful, and more often than not, is brutal and gritty. Without his squirrel meal, that sparrowhawk may have found it difficult to make it through the winter. I’m sorry you had to witness the squirrel’s noble sacrifice,” she said, offering each girl a sympathetic smile.

Turning, she felt her stomach drop. Steven was nowhere in sight.

“Steven!” She spun in a circle, desperate to catch a glimpse of the rascal’s blond head. She raced to where the other children stood queued for their turn on the horse. “Has anyone seen Steven?”

Large eyes and muted headshakes were her answer. Fear streaked through her, but Charlotte willed it to not overtake her. Panic would not help her locate the boy.

“Children, please stay here while I walk about. Steven probably wandered away to investigate some sight.” She kept her tone light and her smile easy.

“He probably went to the lake, Missus Taylor,” a young tyke offered. “Steven likes the water.”

The children nodded in unison, and Charlotte battled the urge to cry. If Steven made it to the water before she found him, would he stay along the shore? She wasn’t certain he would, and the alternative terrified her.

She set off toward the small lake, her skirts gripped in her hands and her feet echoing on the walk as she jogged toward the water’s edge. Gaze darting along the shoreline, she prayed she’d catch sight of the small boy, and terror curdled in her throat when she didn’t. She dashed to the right, looking to and fro, even peering into the waters. A sudden high-pitched laugh made her stumble to a halt. Looking over her shoulder, she saw little Steven standing next to Lord Inverray, laughing in delight as Finlay launched a small paper boat into the waters. When the small vessel made it over the first cresting wave, the boy clapped gleefully, and the men laughed.

Finlay met her eyes as she approached, and he must have seen something in them because he stood and walked toward her. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She swallowed and gestured toward Steven, who still had not looked away from the paper boat, which miraculously had not sunk. “I was looking for him. I turned my back for one moment, and he was gone.”

“We came upon him when he was running toward the water,” Lord Inverray said, reaching to pat the boy on the back but stopping. Steven did not like to be touched. “He was a little agitated to be thwarted, but Firthwell proved to be handy with converting political tracts into something useful.”

“But he could have fallen in. He could have been hurt.” She hiccupped and desperately shoved a fist to her mouth. “It would have been all my fault.”

Without a word, Finlay wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her away. He led her to a nearby bench and encouraged her to sit. Settling into the spot next to her, he stayed silent while she willed her emotions back into order. Watching Steven continue to frolic on the shoreline under the watchful eye of Lord Inverray, who seemed not at all put out to find himself as a nursemaid, calmed her nerves.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered.

“For what?”

Charlotte cringed. “For losing sight of him. For becoming emotional.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him frown. “From my limited experience, children are devilishly quick. I was always ducking my tutor to run off. I’m glad Inverray recognized him and we could intervene before he found trouble.”

“You wouldn’t have had to intervene if I had paid better attention.”

“What exactly were you doing when he ran off?”

She dipped her head. “Two of the girls were upset to witness a sparrowhawk fly off with a squirrel.”

“So you were comforting them?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t gossiping with Lady Flora or reading a book in the shade?”

Charlotte scowled. “Of course I wasn’t.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Finlay said with a smile. “I would never have believed such behavior of you because you are a dedicated, thoughtful teacher. If I know this of you after such a short acquaintance, I’m certain Inverray and Lady Flora do as well.”

Biting her lip, she looked toward Steven. “I was so frightened.”

“I’m sure.” Finlay squeezed her hand for a fleeting moment before he released it. “But as you can see, Steven is hale. And obviously having a grand time.”

A quick glance revealed the boy standing in the shallows, kicking his legs. For his part, the marquess merely observed the boy, a small smile flirting with his mouth. “We should probably rescue his lordship before Steven soaks the both of them. They’ll be frozen through.”

A wry grin brightened Finlay’s face, and he shook his head. “I’d say he can handle a few more minutes of young Steven’s company.”

“Let’s hope, my lord, or I fear he may decide to sack me, and then who would oversee your next teatime with the distinguished young misses of Little Windmill House?” she said, arching a brow.

He crinkled his forehead in consideration and met her gaze, all seriousness. A moment later, he burst into laughter. Despite herself, she laughed with him.

…

When the color slowly started to stain her cheeks again, Finlay released a pent-up breath. He’d never seen Charlotte so shaken as she had been when she came racing to the shoreline. Although he hadn’t said anything to her, it was obvious the child would have charged into the cold waters if they had not stopped him.

But she was already distraught over losing the boy, and he certainly didn’t want to add to her distress. He could also admit, and only to himself, that it was strangely refreshing to see her disassembled. Charlotte was always so composed. In control. Perfectly stoic. To witness her so frantic, and over one of her young charges, made him want to gather her into his arms and stroke her back in comfort.

“Lady Flora is never going to invite me to accompany her to the park again.”

He smirked. “Ah, so that’s why you’re here. We only cut through the park so Inverray could see his sister.”

“I’m so glad you did. My mind refuses to fathom what could have happened to Steven otherwise.”

He studied her profile. “Are you always this passionate about your charges?”

A frown darkened her expression. “Of course. These children deserve my passion. My attention. The very best I can give them.” Charlotte wrung her hands as she watched Steven launch a new paper vessel Inverray had just constructed for him. “Their lives have been more tragic than you can imagine, and they should no longer have to question that they’ll be safe and loved.”

“Were you a child who felt safe and loved?”

The planes of her face solidified into a mask before his eyes. Without a word, she rose to join Lord Inverray and Steven.

Finlay watched them, his thoughts tumultuous. What sort of trauma had she experienced to leave her so jaded?

Although she had not divulged the entire story, from what he had gleaned, her husband’s death had devastated her. And based on the situation in which they had met, she had been left in dire circumstances. It seemed there were many lamentable chapters to Charlotte’s tale.

He pondered again why he cared so much.