Keepsake (The Distinguished Rogues Book 5) (30 page)

“Who else was there?”

“A few servants and your other two guardians.” She raised her head. “They wouldn’t leave.”

She glanced down again when Kit’s jaw clenched tightly. “Around six of the second day, the midwife was getting anxious, and Applebee came in to see what the delay was. I remember they argued about him being in the birthing chamber. It wasn’t allowed, you see, and the midwife was shocked and rude to him. I was so tired by then and just wanted it to be over and hold our child in my arms. Applebee took over and he remained for the birth. He held my hand.”

“Sorenson’s recounting is much more lurid than your clipped retelling. He was afraid for you.”

She glanced up at her husband. “I don’t remember that. As soon as I held Christopher in my arms, I forgot all about the pain or the worry. The midwife said that’s common.”

Kit grunted and drew another letter toward him. He peered at the sheet. “Applebee writes,
She screamed in agony
.”

“Lord Applebee, though a dear man in most circumstances, thinks stubbing his toe is akin to being murdered.” She smiled fondly at the lord’s grumblings. “The pain was nothing unwanted and easily recovered from.”

“And the names chosen for my son. Whose idea was that?”

“Yours. You told me once what names you’d prefer for your son. You were so sure about many things.” She rubbed her hands over her thighs as her palms grew slick. Her heart was racing and she couldn’t stop it. “Your guardians would have had Christopher named after each of them. I was very sure that would displease you.”

“Immensely.” He grunted again and stacked each sheet atop the other. He left a paper on the desk, a fourth she hadn’t noticed. There was a long list of sentences scrawled on the sheet.

“Since I apparently have a son and heir, things will proceed a great deal differently than I once envisioned our future might be. You deprived me of him for the first years of his life, and I cannot forgive you for that. As such, I will expect now to make the decisions for Christopher’s upbringing. Given what he’s claimed about being almost burned to death in a fire, deliberately lit or vividly imagined, you’ll understand my desire to protect him from any evil influence no matter where I find it. I trust you’ve no objections. Carrington will send over the boy’s things tomorrow from Berkley Square, and those children will visit Christopher here once a week for as long as they are in town.”

Miranda swallowed the hard lump in her throat and focused on her hands and keeping her disappointment from showing. It was exactly as she’d expected Kit to do even if she hadn’t run away from their wedding. That he’d decide Christopher’s life without consulting her about anything in the least was what she’d feared most in coming back. That he’d rule their son’s friendships and discard those that brought little chance of social advancement. She hoped the lesson’s she’d taught Christopher about respecting the feelings of others lasted in the years to come. At best she hoped to see their son at holidays or on his birthday. Keeping Christopher away from his father had given her precious moments that would have to be enough to last her a lifetime.

She nodded slowly, heart breaking over the loss of her son. She had no illusions she’d see much of the boy now. He belonged to Twilit Hill and those concerns took precedence over a mere mother.

“Good.” Kit’s chair creaked as he shifted. “You may go.”

“I’ll have Addison summon a hack if you’ve no objection.”

Kit stood quickly, rounded the desk, and caught her arm. “The most strenuous objection. You are not leaving my house ever again, Miranda.”

She stared at him in horror and jerked her arm free. “You cannot keep me prisoner.”

“I don’t have to. My heir will reside under my roof. If you want a chance to see him, you’d better grow accustomed to staying here.”

Miranda opened her mouth to protest but when she looked upon her husband’s face, truly took in his wild, disheveled appearance, she thought better of speaking out. He’d claimed her son as his heir, intended to watch over him. In the end, that was all Miranda wanted. She could bear living with Kit and his anger as long as her son was happy here and safe.

Although she wanted to run from the room, from her husband and his disapproval, she left the room with all the dignity she possessed and headed for the staircase. Behind her, the study door slammed shut and she jumped at the noise. Kit was indeed furious if he’d succumbed to the childishness of slamming doors.

She passed Addison in the hall, who watched her without speaking as she made her way to the staircase. At the top, she heard her mother-in-law speaking and Christopher’s piping voice in reply. Miranda turned toward the sound.

“This will be your room for the night,” the dowager told Christopher as she led him into a near-deserted portion of the town house well away from Miranda’s bedchamber. She stopped at the door and stared around the barren room, wishing there was a way to brighten the space.

The room was so far away from her own that she feared Christopher wouldn’t feel safe at night. Her heart ached for him. He would be very lonely with only the company of servants to comfort him if he should have bad dreams or be afraid.

At that moment, Peter Landry hurried in, juggling an arm full of objects. Coals for the fire, water to wash. A towel draped over his shoulder. Miranda caught the fabric and folded it neatly just to give herself something to do. “Lord Carrington will deliver your things tomorrow, my love.”

Christopher glanced around, a frown forming on his face. “I’ve not spent a night alone in a long time. It’s quiet here.”

Miranda dug her hand in her pocket. “I know and that’s why…” She held her hand out to her son with a smile. He grinned when he saw her gift and twisted it so his baby rattle made the familiar sound. Christopher had asked her to keep it when he’d gone away to study with Fenning.

“Why are you giving him an infant’s toy at his age?” the dowager asked, her lips turned down in dismay.

“It’s mine.” Christopher held it beneath her nose and shook it till it twinkled again. “See the pattern. Lord Sorenson says the scene is of Twilit Hill.”

The dowager huffed but she did take a peek at the plaything. “Be that as it may, I’d prefer not to have so much noise about Twilit House just to amuse you.”

Christopher giggled at her suggestion and carefully placed the object on his windowsill. “There, now I really am at home.”

Another footman appeared with a tray and set it on a table. “Thank you, Goode,” Christopher said as he hurried across and lifted the lids from his evening meal.

When the footman was gone, Miranda sat across from her son and served him. “How do you possibly know that servant’s name already? I’ve not even seen him.”

“Addison told me about the new man the last time I came. He’s told me ever so much about life here and about my grandmother.” Her son peeked across the room to the dowager with a smile.

The old woman huffed again. “Well, good night, young man. Do not wake me in the morning with all your wild comings and goings.”

Christopher ran to her, kissed her wrinkled cheek, and ran back to the table again. “I’ll try not to.”

When the dowager’s shuffling steps couldn’t be heard anymore, Miranda glanced at her son curiously. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Christopher shrugged. “She’s lonely.”

“I see.” Christopher must see a great deal more than Miranda did of her mother-in-law. Loneliness was the last emotion she’d expect.

Christopher destroyed his dinner in a few short minutes, then yawned widely. “Can I go to bed now?”

“Now?” She looked at him in alarm. “It’s barely seven o’clock.”

He smiled sleepily and climbed into bed, then looked around him with a satisfied expression on his face. “I’m home now. I want to hurry up and sleep in my own bed for the first time ever.”

Miranda smothered a laugh and went to him, grinning. Christopher had always looked for the brightest moment in a long day. “Yes, you are.”

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then tucked the bedding firmly around his little body. Her heart ached still that she might have lost him. She would take a long time to recover from the fears of the past few days.

He wriggled his arms free and looped them about her neck. “You’re home too, you know.”

“Yes, my love. So I am.”

But home wasn’t the warm place it was for Christopher. This place never would be hers, and she would always be the interloper. Miranda trudged back to her bedchamber and summoned April to help her undress for the night. When she was ready for bed in her primmest nightgown, she dismissed the girl so she could be alone once more with her thoughts. She drank the vile potion to calm her heart and, like Christopher, she climbed into bed ridiculously early, forgoing her supper. She was simply too upset to eat anything.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“So what do you think?” Kit prompted at Christopher’s continued silence. The boy had been staring too long and the proprietor was beginning to fidget.

“May I pick one up if I am careful?”

“Of course, young master.” The proprietor of Gable and Son’s Silversmiths beamed as he lifted the lid on his display case. Inside, a dozen small pewter soldiers lay at rest on a black velvet tray. Craftsman’s work and not inexpensive to boot. Kit was impressed that the boy asked permission first.

Christopher gently lifted one, turned it around in his nimble fingers as he studied it, then just as carefully placed it back. He grinned at Mr. Gable. “They’re smashing.”

Kit’s son said smashing quite a bit. He hid another grin, overcome with pride that his child was polite, inquisitive, and knew exactly when praise was needed. Kit assessed his new plan once more. A list of activities that grew longer by the minute. “We will need infantry, cavalry, and artillery if you have them to take today.”

Mr. Gable gaped in astonishment, an expression Kit had seen more often than not over the past three days, which he’d spent spoiling his son during their daily excursions around the great city. Kit had made a list of all the birthdays, holidays, and treats he should have spoiled the child with in the first years of his life. Material possessions were easy to come by in London. Recovering the time lost was not.

They’d spent every moment together from sunrise to sunset, and Kit had even sat with him last night, long after he’d fallen asleep, just so he could say with certainty that his son twitched in his sleep before growing still again. Kit’s mother thought him mad, but Kit had been denied so much of Christopher that he’d promised himself he wouldn’t miss another moment. If only their days were longer.

He glanced at his pocket watch, noticing the hour was growing late. Tonight he planned nothing more special than to watch Christopher eat his evening meal. Tomorrow they would dine with his guardians, and he would deal with them once and for all. He just didn’t know what he needed to say to them. His anger had cooled, replaced by disappointment in Miranda and in himself.

She should have known his nature, but if he’d never told her his feelings or understood them enough himself, then he could see how she might not realize his attachment for Emily only went so far. The mistake had cost them their marriage and happiness.

Kit settled the bill and when it was apparent that packing the soldiers would take time, he arranged for delivery, his mind half on the task.

“Father?”

Kit smiled down at Christopher, and lifted one brow. “Yes, son?”

“Are we going home soon?”

He nodded, signing his name on the bill with an enthusiastic flourish of the pen. He couldn’t deny that having a son made him happy. Christopher’s existence made his life complete. “Once our business is concluded.”

Christopher worried his lip and when they left, Kit noticed his son hurried to the carriage ahead of him and didn’t delay climbing inside as he occasionally did when he saw something else of interest.

When Kit joined him, he couldn’t help but notice the boy appeared anxious still. “Is something the matter?”

“I missed her today.”

Kit looked down at his hands as his stomach tied in knots. He’d monopolized the child, kept him apart from Miranda with their many outings and expeditions. Miranda remained at home, content as far as he knew, seeing Christopher in the mornings and late in the evenings. But since the day Christopher had burst into his life, he’d avoided his wife and even his friends, preferring to get to know his son instead. He didn’t know how Miranda’s heart fared and he was quite frankly afraid to ask.

But he could not put that off forever. They were married and forever bound to each other through Christopher. He had demanded she had to live with him if she wanted to see their son. He couldn’t ignore her existence. “We’ll be home soon.”

The boy smiled broadly, face pressed to the glass the whole way home. When the carriage stopped, he bolted from the carriage to reach her, running almost as fast as he’d managed when he’d left Hyde Park that day. He quickly disappeared inside and Kit followed, laughing as he went.

Addison hid a smile as he took Kit’s hat and gloves. The butler had quickly learned to step aside when Christopher was in a hurry. “You have correspondence on your desk, my lord.”

“Anything else I should know about?”