Steven and Nicholas could barely contain their excitement the following morning when their father decreed the ground had softened enough to allow them to go and look at the ponies that afternoon. Leah was exhausted by noon, especially after her restless night. She wondered if Dolph had any idea how demanding they would be on the drive over to Hewton, and how he and Hinckley would cope with two small boys in such a highly excitable state. But Dolph managed the problem by the simple expedient of allowing the boys to sit up on the box seat next to Travers, the coachman, while Frinton—the Dolphin Court head man who was going with them to help judge the suitability of the ponies for the boys—climbed into the carriage with Dolph and Hinckley. Leah watched the carriage drive away and then climbed into the buggy that had been brought around for her to drive over to the vicarage.
Philippa was expecting her, as Leah had sent a note that morning, asking if she might call upon her, and had received a delighted reply in the affirmative.
‘This is delightful,’ Philippa said, as she and Leah settled in front of the fire in the parlour with a pot of tea and a plate holding a delicious-smelling, freshly baked apple cake.
Philippa poured a cup of tea for Leah. ‘Would you care for a slice of cake?’
‘Yes, please.’
Philippa cut a slice and handed a plate to Leah with an impish smile. ‘Look at us...social visits and taking afternoon tea like two ladies.’ She cut one for herself and bit into it, chewing with a beatific smile on her face. ‘You never know,’ she continued after finishing her mouthful, ‘one day, maybe we will both be ladies.’
Leah balanced her plate on her knee as she sipped her tea, ruthlessly crushing the little kernel of hope that had sprung into existence at some point during the long, sleepless night. She was afraid of that hope, for what good would it do? Hope born out of the realisation that Dolph liked her. Desired her. And she must marry someone in the next twelve months. Under eleven months by now.
But Dolph was still an earl, still grieving his wife’s tragic suicide, still battling his own guilt, and she had heard herself his vehement vow to never marry again. Allowing her hopes to stray in his direction was futile. Besides, she still had her dream of love within her marriage, and she was sure marriage with a man she loved but who could not offer her love in return would be a recipe for heartache.
She longed to unburden herself to Philippa but, now she was here, she didn’t know where to start. So she began with the easy—for her—bit.
‘May I speak to you about Lord Hinckley, Philippa?’
Philippa’s smile disappeared. ‘Uh-oh. This sounds serious. He has asked me to call him George, you know.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Lord Usk had begged her to call him Harold, too. It meant nothing, but silly females gave too much credence to such matters. ‘But...do take care, my dear. Hinckley is an earl, living a very different life from yours. I cannot help but be concerned—’
‘That I have fallen under the spell of his silken words and extravagant compliments?’ Philippa shook her head and laughed. ‘Leah, you goose. Do you really imagine I am such a country miss I do not understand His Lordship is amusing himself with a flirtation while he rusticates in the country? Believe me... I am in no danger of expecting anything more from George than the chance to spend time with an amusing gentleman who, I admit, makes me laugh. I enjoy his company—and I believe he enjoys mine—but I will not lose my heart to a man who will be gone from here in a few weeks with never a backward look.’
Leah stared at her friend, then shook her head, smiling ruefully.
‘I have underestimated you, have I not?’ Philippa’s customary good sense appeared firmly in place where Hinckley was concerned. ‘I am relieved you are blessed with such clear sight. Please forgive my interference.’
Philippa reached across and squeezed Leah’s hand. ‘I appreciate you were concerned enough to warn me. You truly are a good friend.’
Leah then found herself the subject of a searching look.
‘And, as your friend,’ Philippa continued, ‘I would be remiss if I did not mention you are looking fagged to death, Leah. What is it?’ She moved to sit next to Leah and took her hand. ‘Tell me,’ she urged in a soft voice. ‘Are you...are you ill?’
‘No. It is nothing like that. But I do have something to tell you.’
She told Philippa about Lady Tregowan’s will, and that she must leave Dolphin Court soon.
‘There are conditions to our inheritance. We must all move to London by Easter at the latest, and we must live together there for the duration of the Season, after which we may choose to live either at Falconfield Hall or remain in London. And we must each marry within a year, but we must not marry the current Lord Tregowan.’
‘Would he not be your half-brother, though?’
‘No. The Tregowans had no children. The current Earl is the son of a distant cousin who fell out with the former Earl over some matter or other.’
‘But...’ Philippa’s brow wrinkled. ‘So...you have two sisters you knew nothing about?’
‘Half-sisters. Yes, but please do not tell anyone—that secret is not mine alone to reveal.’
‘You know you may rely on my discretion. But...why are you still here working for a pittance as a governess now you are wealthy? It makes no sense to me. What has Lord Dolphinstone to say about your good fortune?’
‘Ah.’ Leah fiddled with her skirts, pleating and repleating the fabric.
‘Leah! You have not told him, have you? Why ever not? You must give him time to appoint another governess. You cannot leave him in the lurch.’
Leah bit her lip. ‘I know. You are right. But...you were there when I arrived home that day, Philippa. You saw how angry he was. I was afraid he would send me away immediately if I told him the truth, and how could I leave the children at the very moment their father returned? I just wanted to help the boys adjust to their papa being home before I unsettled them further with the news I must leave.’ Leah forced her next words through a throat clogged with unshed tears. ‘Philippa... I dread saying goodbye to the boys.’ She closed her eyes and groped for her friend’s hand. I cannot pretend to myself my heart is not breaking twice over now. ‘And to their father,’ she added in a strangulated whisper.
‘Oh, Leah.’ Philippa hugged her. ‘I suspected... I noticed, yesterday...but I did not like to say anything. But His Lordship appears very taken with you, and George said it’s the first time he’s shown an interest in anyone since his wife died. Is there no chance? After all, your circumstances have changed. You will no longer be a governess but a lady of means. And if you must marry anyway...’
Her voice trailed away. But Leah could not allow herself to believe, not after what had happened in the past and despite that tiny seed of hope still lodged deep inside her heart—the hope that, faced with the fact of her leaving, Dolph might realise he could not let her go. But pride would never allow her to admit as much, not to anyone.
‘No,’ she said. ‘His Lordship is adamant he will never remarry. And although that inheritance will make me more acceptable, the circumstances of my birth will count against me. Except, of course, with gentlemen with pockets to let who will, of course, overlook such unsavoury details.’
Philippa squeezed her hand. ‘We are a fine pair, are we not?’
Leah dragged in an unsteady breath and opened her eyes. The time had come. If she stayed, she would only fall more hopelessly under Dolph’s spell. She must try to look forward instead, to the new life that awaited her with Aurelia and Beatrice.
‘Philippa?’
Philippa tipped her head to one side, her eyes big with sympathy. ‘Leah?’
‘Might I impose upon our friendship? Would you agree to step in and care for the boys until His Lordship appoints another governess?’ There. She had said it. The die was cast. ‘I will tell him at the earliest possible opportunity,’ she rushed on, ‘and then I shall tell the children, and...and... Oh, Philippa!’ She gulped back her emotions as they threatened to erupt. ‘I could not bear to linger once they all know. It will be too painful.’
‘Hush.’ Philippa squeezed Leah’s hand. ‘Of course I will. Just send me word when you know the day.’
Leah forced a smile and squeezed her friend’s hand in return. ‘Thank you. I shall miss you, my dearest friend.’
Philippa’s smile was sorrowful. ‘I shall miss you too, and I wish you all the luck in the world when you go to London.’
Leah forced herself to smile back, but her heart was heavier than she had ever known it. She would have a hard task to hide her anguish from Dolph and the boys until she left, but she was determined to try.
‘No! For the last time, you cannot ride the ponies home.’
‘But... Papa...pleeeease.’ Nicky gazed up at Dolph with huge, beseeching eyes that grew more teary by the second. ‘We will be careful, won’t we, Stevie?’
Stevie scuffed his boot on the ground. ‘I do not want to. I want to go in the carriage with Papa.’
Thank God one of my sons is biddable. How does Leah cope with this?
The thought of the governess stirred a conflicting mix of emotions, the same mix that had kept him awake long into the night—desire, first and uppermost; admiration and gratitude for how she had cared for his children; shame that he had taken advantage of her. Again. And dismay that the first woman to stir his blood since Rebecca’s death happened to be a woman in his employ and therefore under his protection.
I must not lose control again. I cannot risk driving her away... The boys would be distraught if they lost Leah. She’s like a mother to them.
He directed a stern look at his youngest son. ‘You heard your brother, Nicholas. Get in the carriage.’
Nicky’s lower lip thrust forward. Dolph cast a pleading look at George, who grimaced and shrugged before climbing into the carriage. Stevie followed him, leaving Dolph facing his recalcitrant younger son. Rescue came in the form of Frinton.
‘Now, then, Master Nicky. You do as your father tells you, and less of your nonsense. That there pony ain’t fit enough to be rid one mile, let alone four—they’ll both find it hard enough tied behind the carriage. Their little legs’ll have to work twice as fast to keep up. Now. Less of your stubbornness. You’ll have plenty of time to ride once they’re back at the Court, all safe and sound.’
Dolph watched, amazed, as Nicky flushed, hung his head and trailed over to the carriage to clamber up the steps. He turned to Frinton.
‘Thank you.’
‘You was much the same when you was that age, milord. Far too full of what you wanted and no stopping to think of the wisdom or rights of your demands. And you was as easy to steer. You might be experienced with bargaining with politicians and the like, but I’ll tell you this for free. You never bargain with young’uns. Never. Or sure as certain you’ll be making a rod for your own back.’
Having delivered his homily, Frinton climbed up to the box seat, leaving Dolph to join George and the boys in the carriage.
‘I feel sick,’ said Nicky.
‘The carriage,’ said Dolph, ‘has not even begun to move. You cannot possibly feel sick.’
Nicky crossed his arms, lower lip once again protruding. ‘I don’t like being inside. I want to drive with Travers and Frinton.’
‘Well, you can’t.’ Dolph tried very hard to control his exasperation. ‘We will be home before you know it. Close your eyes and try to sleep.’
George, he noted, would be of no help, for he had already tipped his hat over his eyes and stretched his legs across the carriage, giving a good impression of a man taking a nap. The slight smirk on his mouth suggested, though, that he was listening to, and enjoying, this test of Dolph’s fathering skills.
Nicky wriggled in his seat, kicking his legs, which reached nowhere near the floor. His lip protruded further. ‘Not tired. Get sick if I close my eyes.’
‘Look, Nicky. Look at the river. There’s a heron. Can you see it?’
Stevie cast an anxious glance at Dolph, whose heart clenched. He prayed that, by riding out together daily, Stevie would relax a little more in his company. He still seemed so formal—very different from the boy he saw interacting with Leah. As for Nicky... Dolph heaved a silent sigh. Before today, he’d found Nicky the easier of his sons to understand, but he couldn’t fathom why his younger son was hell-bent on testing his patience today. He should be happy at getting a pony of his own but, if anything, his behaviour had worsened as the afternoon wore on. Dolph now regretted not bringing Leah with them although, after the night before, he was also relieved not to face an hour’s journey in an enclosed carriage with her.
The memory of that kiss set his blood pounding and his lips tingling. If only she weren’t his governess. If only she were a lady of his world...then he might... But no. He could not risk it. Rebecca had been so unhappy with him she had taken her own life, and he had failed to see any warning signs. How could he risk putting any other woman through the same? Especially one he was beginning to care about.
At least Stevie’s distraction appeared to have worked, for both boys now knelt on the seats, peering out of the window at the river snaking through the meadow alongside the road. Dolph sighed and closed his eyes, trying without success to quieten the thoughts racing around inside his head as a headache threatened to take hold. He felt more out of his depth than ever. He had not even realised children could be so different. In the past, children had, in his head, been lumped together into one homogenous mass. But his sons were little people—individuals—and he was determined to get to know their characters. He’d missed so much of their earlier years, distracted by politics, business and the estate. He’d allowed anything and everything, it seemed, to take precedence over family. He’d barely even noticed his children, other than as a natural step in his life. He’d gone to school and university, taken over the title and estate when his father died; married; had children. He’d followed the natural order of life for a man in his position, but he now felt ashamed of his neglect of his entire family. If he’d paid more attention...if he’d spent more time with them... Rebecca might still be alive.
He’d been a bad husband. Not cruel. Not even mean. But careless and dismissive. Rebecca had deserved better. And instead of staying to comfort his children after their mother died, he’d left them in the care of a stranger, more concerned with dealing with his own grief by distracting himself with the negotiations in Vienna. It was fortunate Leah had proved such a good woman. The children clearly loved her.
At least he’d got that bit right, although it was only by luck, not judgement.
Well, it might be too late to make amends to Rebecca, but his relationship with his children was getting better. And now they would have their own ponies, meaning he could spend more time with them outside the schoolroom. Which meant he need see even less of Leah. It was for the best. He must not risk his behaviour becoming a reason for her to resign.
He would not allow his children to suffer another loss in their lives.
‘Papa?’
He opened his eyes. ‘Yes, Nicky?’
‘I don’t feel well.’
Dolph studied his son. It was true. His face did have a greenish pallor... Dolph rapped on the carriage ceiling with his cane and it rocked to a halt.
‘Papaaaa...’
‘Hell and damnation!’ Dolph sprang to the door, flung it wide, jumped down—straight into a patch of mud at the side of the road, into which his booted feet sank up to the ankles. ‘Grrr!’ He tugged his feet out of the cloying mud.
‘Dolph!’ George’s shout was urgent.
He spun around, took in Nicky’s face with one look, grabbed him unceremoniously under the arms and swung him out of the vehicle.
‘Bleurghhhh...’
All down the front of Dolph’s greatcoat. The sour stench of vomit reached his nostrils and curdled his own stomach, but at least Nicky had not soiled his own clothing. About to yell at Nicky—in pure reflex—Dolph managed to bite his tongue in time.
Tears streamed down his son’s face as he sobbed, and Dolph couldn’t even hug him to reassure him, or they would both be covered in sick. Then Frinton was there. He took Nicky and put him down on the road.
‘Best take that coat off, milord, or you’ll all be puking with the stink. There’s a rug up top. Hi, Travers. Throw down the spare rug, will you?’
The coachman did as bid. Dolph stripped off his greatcoat, handing it to Frinton, who grabbed a stick from the verge and scraped off the worst of the vomit before folding the coat carefully, with the stain on the outside.
‘No sense in spreading it over more of the coat than necessary,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Mrs Frampton’ll soon have that sponged clean.’
Dolph crouched down next to Nicky and put his hands on the trembling shoulders. The next minute, Nicky pressed his warm little body into Dolph’s chest, and his arms wrapped around his father’s neck.
‘Want Miss Thame,’ he sobbed.
‘Shhh. Yes. I know.’ Dolph stood up, still holding Nicky in his arms. ‘You shall have her soon. But we must get home first, Nicky. It won’t take long, and the next road will be less bumpy than this one.’ Dolph looked up at Frinton. ‘Have you any water?’
A canteen of water was produced, and Nicky was persuaded to rinse out his mouth before sipping a little.
‘Master Nicky can ride up front with me and Travers,’ said Frinton. ‘How about it, Master Nicky?’
Nicky’s head shook vehemently. ‘Wanna stay with Papa.’
Dolph’s heart lurched, and joy spread through him like warm honey. ‘Then you shall,’ he said.
He climbed into the carriage and, as he settled in his seat with Nicky on his lap, he noticed George watching him with an indefinable look on his face.
‘Never thought to see you so...fatherly,’ he said. ‘You’re a lucky man, with three such fine children.’
‘I am,’ said Dolph. And was surprised to find he meant it. Maybe, he thought, as he cuddled Nicky, lying slumped against his chest, I can become a good father after all.
‘Papa?’
‘Yes, Stevie?’
‘What’s hell and damnation?’
Dolph caught George’s eye and saw the wretch trying hard not to laugh. Maybe he still had some work to do to become a good father.
‘It’s a special grown-up phrase. It’s not for children to use, so you must not say it. Do you hear me, Stevie? Miss Thame will not be happy if she hears you repeat it.’
Nicky stirred, lifting his head so his hair tickled Dolph’s chin.
‘Hell and damnation,’ he murmured under his breath.
‘Nicholas...’ Dolph put as much warning as he could muster into his son’s name.
‘Sorry, Papa.’
Nicky relaxed again, and Dolph breathed a sigh of relief. Not long now till they reached home. He was exhausted. His gaze settled on his older son, sitting quietly and obediently as he watched the passing scenery. Stevie’s lips moved, and Dolph would swear he mouthed, Hell and damnation.
He felt the press of failure once again. What sort of a father used such bad language in front of his young sons?