Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy (15 page)

“Aaron awaits his uncle in the yellow drawing room,” Rhodes confessed. “I could send over his belongings a bit later today.”

“That quickly?” Aidan asked caustically. “With no notice so I might prepare proper quarters for the boy?”

Before Rhodes could respond a light tap at the door brought their disagreement to a stumbling halt. The door opened to frame Miss Purefoy clutching a dark-haired child in her arms. The boy buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Pardon me, my Lord, but Master Aaron has had the most dreadful case of the fits. The maid assisting in his care knew not what might cure the young master’s woes. The child asks for his Uncle Aidan.”

*

Mercy knew she had made a mistake when she had approached His Lordship’s study and had heard the noisy row within, but the lad had the household at sixes and sevens with his screams and tears. Dutifully, Mercy had escorted Miss Chadwick to the door after her fittings only to find Lord Lexford’s butler and Mrs. Babcock debating on how to settle the child. The housekeeper had caught the lad by his arm to give the child a lecture on behaving property.

Without considering how her interference might be perceived among His Lordship’s seasoned staff, Mercy had rushed to comfort the boy. Scooping the young master into her arms, she had carried the child to a quiet corner and rocked him until the boy had ceased his caterwauling. “Shush, my Little One,” Mercy had cooed into the child’s ear.

“Wunkle Waden,” the boy sobbed over and over.

Mercy set the child from her where she might look upon the puffy-eyed countenance. With her linen, she had dabbed away the child’s tears. The boy held the look of his father. He would never be called handsome, but those with titles and ancestral names had no concern for fine looks. “You wish to visit with your uncle?” Mercy asked encouragingly.

“Gwanpapa said Wunkle Waden give me cakes,” the child confessed.

Mercy smiled easily. The boy knew what was important. “Then come along with me. We must find your ‘Wunkle Waden.’” Lifting the boy to her, she had carried him through the gathered throng of servants outside the drawing room door. To Miss Chadwick, she had said, “If you could tarry but a few moments longer, I mean to have His Lordship’s approval before you continue your work.” The girl nodded her agreement. To Mrs. Babcock she said, “Please bring tea and cakes to Lord Lexford’s study.”

“But Miss…” the housekeeper began in protest. “Perhaps it is best if you do not inter…”

“
Now
, Mrs. Babcock.” Mercy emphasized the word before turning toward the stairs. The housekeeper’s continued disrespect had settled Mercy’s resolve.

Of course, her bravado had drained the moment she had opened the door to His Lordship’s private room. The heated discussion she had overheard outside the door had left the room filled with stark tension. She faced not only Lord Lexford, but also the man Mr. Hill had identified as being Lady Lexford’s father, Mr. Rhodes. The expression on Lord Lexford’s countenance said it all. His Lordship felt trapped. The viscount was miserably uncomfortable.
But why
? Mercy knew not the answer, but she meant to protect him somehow.

Mr. Rhodes’s countenance spoke of disapproval. She had seen a similar look in the man’s eyes when he had watched her at the mercantile. If possible, Rhodes’s vehemence had increased. Unconsciously, Mercy shuddered. She supposed Mr. Rhodes viewed her as a threat to his daughter’s position in this household. Little did the man know His Lordship considered her his half sister. However, to protect her, Lord Lexford had introduced her to the villagers as his cousin. In the eyes of Society, a marriage between cousins was acceptable, but never one between brother and sister. A relationship between Lord Lexford and her would never materialize.

*

Aidan rose to his feet upon her entrance. His first thought was of how beautiful Mary Purefoy appeared. The boy had clung to her neck, and the two of them had looked so natural together. It was everything he wanted in this house. A wife and a family. But it was not his family. Neither the child nor the woman belonged to him. “Come in, my Dear,” he said as he extended his hand in the girl’s direction. Aidan supposed he should stop thinking of Miss Purefoy as a girl. She was most definitely a woman.

He noted her hesitation, but Miss Purefoy took perhaps a half dozen steps in his direction. Her fingers caressed the back of the child’s head, and she turned to graze a kiss upon the boy’s temple. Her tenderness touched Aidan’s heart. Then he spotted the scowl on Rhodes’s countenance. The man’s lips snarled in contempt. Immediately, Aidan’s protective nature made an appearance. He did not appreciate the way Rhodes had looked upon Miss Purefoy. “What have you there?” he asked gently.

Her eyes met his, and he knew she understood the strange social conundrum in which he found himself. “This big boy is Master Aaron,” Miss Purefoy said playfully. She encouraged the boy to turn toward where Aidan waited.

His brother’s eyes stared out from the child’s countenance, and Aidan swallowed the bile of betrayal, which clogged his throat. He managed to respond by keeping his eyes on the lady’s countenance. In her face, he found peace. “You must be mistaken, my Dear,” he said teasingly. “My nephew is but a babe in a crib.” He tickled the boy’s side with his finger. “This child is nearly a man.”

The child cocked his head as if searching for something familiar in Aidan’s countenance and voice. He wondered if the boy held any memory of the long hours he had held Susan’s child. The hours he had resigned himself to loving a babe not of his issue, and if the boy knew how miserably Aidan had failed. “Wunkle Waden?” The child’s voice quickly rose in inflection.

Unable to resist, Aidan reached for the child, and with a bit of encouragement from Miss Purefoy, the boy came into his arms. He pulled the child protectively into his embrace before turning toward Susan’s father. The child smelled of baby smells: sleepy tears, and that sweet scent of soft skin and hair. Aidan inhaled deeply. When Rhodes’s frown lines deepened, Aidan taunted, “Is this not what you wished, Father Rhodes?”

Rhodes shot a glance toward Miss Purefoy. Through tight lips, he said, “Mrs. Rhodes would not approve of just anyone tending to the boy.”

Aidan took a menacing step toward the man. “First, you bring my brother’s son to my home and demand I resume guardianship of the child. Then you presume to dictate which members of my household may interact with my nephew. You cannot have it both ways, Father Rhodes. If the boy is to call Lexington Arms home, I will determine his future.”

Miss Purefoy took a tentative step toward the door and made to leave. Aidan said insistently, “Do you have pressing business, my Dear?” The thought of being alone with a child he was uncertain he even liked frightened him more than any enemy he had ever faced on the battlefield. What would he do if the child cried? And Heaven forbid the child required someone to change his baby cloths! Aidan looked upon the pink countenance and scowled. Did the boy still wear the cloths?

“Miss Chadwick waits below, my Lord. I had thought to seek your approval on the girl’s designs, but…” She shot an anxious glance toward Susan’s father. “But you have more pressing matters, and I would not detain the lady longer.”

A sharp knock announced the arrival of a teacart and cakes. Aidan’s frown lines deepened. How was he to manage a child, a tea service, and a disapproving Jonathan Rhodes all at the same time? He instructed the servant, “Ask Miss Chadwick to join us, and tell Mrs. Osborne we will require an additional pot. My cousin will serve the tea.” The maid nodded her understanding before disappearing into the early afternoon passages. Aidan watched Miss Purefoy’s countenance carefully. “If you hold no objections, I would ask your assistance with the tea service.”

“Wakes,” the child said as he clapped his little hands together.

Tentatively, Miss Purefoy reached for the boy. “Come, Little One,” she said softly. “Permit your uncle and grandfather to finish their business.”

“Wunkle Waden,” the child called over her shoulder as Miss Purefoy carried him toward a small settee close to the hearth. “I wike wakes.”

Aidan smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm. “Then I charge your cousin to give you two cakes,” he said to the retreating forms. Before he turned to Susan’s father, he watched how naturally Miss Purefoy had settled the boy upon the settee with several pillows to support him. Then she poured a generous portion of milk in a cup with just a splash of tea. She offered several spoonfuls of the mixture to the child as she cooed sweet words of nothing throughout. It was a deliciously domestic picture, and Aidan enjoyed every second of it. When she picked up the knife to cut the cake into bite-sized pieces, Aidan returned to the conversation with Rhodes.

“Is this how you mean for the boy’s transfer to occur? Sharply and without a proper farewell?” He spoke softly so as not to relay the tension, which rested between him and Susan’s father, to Miss Purefoy and the child. The lady had already endured Rhodes’s disapproving stares on two separate occasions, and Aidan meant to protect her from future aspersions.

“You would replace my daughter with that woman!” Rhodes hissed.

Aidan had never liked Jonathan Rhodes. Had never taken to either of Susan’s parents, and he certainly had had his fill of people telling him his duties. He still held doubts regarding Miss Purefoy’s claim to a familial relationship, but one certainty remained: The lady had never asked anything of him beyond his friendship. Caustically, he hissed, “In her sweet gestures, the lady has shone more maternal care for the child than did your daughter.” He continued through clenched teeth, “Miss Purefoy is my cousin. If Andrew’s son remains with me, the lady will have a say in the child’s upbringing. I value her opinions.”

Rhodes shot a deathly glare in the lady’s direction. “Mrs. Rhodes will speak more on this subject when she is well,” he rasped.

Aidan’s jaw tightened. He said, “If you leave the boy in my care today, there will be no returning him to Rhodes End. I will not have the child uprooted over and over again. Aaron is a Kimbolt. He will be raised as I say from this day forward.”

Rhodes snorted his displeasure. “I wish to God I had never agreed to permit Susan’s marriage to Andrew Kimbolt. The arrangement has brought nothing but misery to my door.”

Aidan felt his ire rise, and for a change he said the words he had always swallowed previously. “You thought to have your daughter become the future viscountess. You never considered me worthy. After all, I was but a second son. Andrew should have been my father’s heir, but all your manipulations failed. Susan became a viscountess, but by the time I assumed the title, any tenderness Susan and I had once shared had been replaced by ambition and perfidy…”

“My Lord?” Miss Purefoy’s melodic voice penetrated the red-hot hatred, which had stolen his tongue. Aidan looked up to see the lady’s worried countenance.

He took a deep steadying breath. “I apologize, my Dear.” He noted how Rhodes stiffened at hearing Aidan’s continued endearments. “My business with Mr. Rhodes has reached its end. Perhaps you might pour me a cup of tea while I see Father Rhodes to the door.”

The girl eyed him cautiously, but she nodded her agreement.

Aidan kept his expression emotionally blank. “I will open the nursery. When Mrs. Rhodes has recovered, you may make arrangements to visit with the child, but not too soon,” he cautioned. “I would have Aaron accept Lexington Arms as his home.”

“You are all kindness, my Lord,” Rhodes said sarcastically.

Aidan smiled at the man’s peevishness. “I learned my lessons at your hand, Father Rhodes.” Rhodes reached for his gloves, but Aidan caught the man’s arm. He whispered threateningly, “If you and Mrs. Rhodes persist in your objection to Miss Purefoy, I will use all the power I possess as Viscount Lexford to separate you forever from your only grandchild.”

Rhodes jerked his arm from Aidan’s grasp before he stormed from the room. Aidan watched him go, and he wondered if Susan’s father would heed the warning. Somehow, Aidan doubted it. Tomorrow, he would contact a man of the law regarding the legal rights of the boy’s grandparents.”

“Gwanpapa!” Aaron whined.

Miss Purefoy scooped the child into her arms. “Have no fear, Little One, you are about to go on a grand adventure. A game of sorts.”

Aidan joined her in the setting. “Do you like games?”

“Wirates?” the boy asked with a smile. Aidan did not think the child’s smile was one he could associate with Andrew. As selfish as it may seem, that fact pleased him. Aaron’s smile came from Susan. It was the one from long before Aidan had departed for the Continent: that special smile from a vivacious woman, and he would recognize it anywhere.

“Pirates?” he asked kindly. “I am certain someone in this great house knows how to play pirates.” He nodded encouragingly to the boy. “Your grandfather has agreed to permit you to spend a few days with your cousin and me.” Aidan rubbed the child’s chubby leg with the back of his hand. The boy was built very much like Andrew and the late viscount. Aidan may have been the youngest of the three Kimbolt children, but he had the makings of his maternal grandfather, who had towered over Arlen Kimbolt by nearly four inches. Aidan had outstripped both his father and older brother by the time of his eighteenth birthday. “I realize you do not understand what is happening, but know both your cousin and I will protect you.”

The child buried his face in Miss Purefoy’s chest. “Mama?” he sobbed.