The Bridal Contract (Darrington family Book 3) (5 page)

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Determination rang in his voice. “I hadn’t planned to stay in Brighton. I’m not the domestic sort and besides, Daniela hates me.”

At the sound of her name, the child looked at Oliver. She’d wandered across the room, singing softly to herself. When she noticed the adults’ attention, she stuck a finger in her mouth and kept staring, but she didn’t cry.

“She doesn’t hate you. She simply doesn’t know you yet.” Eloisa leaned forward. The man looked so lost her sense of duty rose. Sympathy for his position welled. “Let’s try an experiment. Come with me.” After she rose, she crossed the room and approached Daniela. Oliver slowly trailed her. “Hello, sweetie.” She knelt in front of the girl. “My name is Eloisa and I live next door to this nice man.” She gently removed the finger from Daniela’s mouth and gripped the hand as she stood. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Where’s Mama?” the little girl asked.

Oh, dear. What to tell her? Perhaps the truth. No sense starting her life in Brighton on a pile of lies.
I hope Oliver forgives the assumption.
“As far as I know, your mama is still in Spain.” She shot a glance at Oliver. Obviously the man wouldn’t offer to help. He barely knew how to handle such a situation. When he didn’t make a move to continue, she stifled a sigh. “But she wanted you to be a brave girl and have lots of adventures, so she sent you to England so you’d know…” Her voice trailed off and she again looked to Oliver. “What should I tell her to call you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Well, that decided his fate. “Your mama wanted you to know your papa.” Her cheeks heated when Oliver sucked in a breath. Perhaps she’d overstepped after all, but then, he should have taken the lead.

“He is Papa?” Daniela pointed at the viscount. Her eyes were big and round.

“Good God, Eloisa, that’s a bit of a bammer.” He snorted then addressed the child. “No, I am not,” Oliver stated with heavy annoyance. “You may call me…” He trailed off and sent a desperate look Eloisa’s way. “I cannot very well have her call me Viscount Tralsburg, can I?”

“That is rather a mouthful for a little girl,” she agreed. Most definitely she didn’t want to see the child left at yet another waypoint in her already trial-filled journey. She thought over her own carefree childhood and playing and all the games she and her siblings engaged in. Her heart lurched. A child should never need to worry about food or having a roof over their head. She urged Daniela closer to Oliver. Besides, if they made friends, the girl wouldn’t cry and would leave the neighborhood in peace. “This is,” she swallowed, hoping to alleviate her suddenly dry throat, “the Captain. He’s going to take care of you.”

“Botheration. That seems too formal for a child,” Oliver interjected.

What a difficult man. “All right then. You may call him Oliver.”

“He is Oliver.” She stared at him with her dark gaze then slowly nodded. “Can I play?”

Eloisa had a hard time containing her amusement. “Yes, darling, but let’s find your room first, shall we?”

“Um, the house isn’t fitted to receive a child. I’m afraid there is no room prepared.”

“Tsk, tsk.” She peered at Oliver, who looked back with an expression of consternation. “If we get her settled, she won’t be underfoot all the time and you’ll have time to think,” she said softly in a sing-song voice.

“Do you have to be so damned efficient and practical?” His voice was little more than a growl as he led the way out of the parlor.

A laugh escaped before she could recall it. “I don’t have to be, but I find it’s infinitely easier to accomplish my goals if everyone around me is properly content enough that I don’t need to stop what I’m doing and fix their problems.” She adjusted her grip on Daniela’s hand, and when the girl didn’t walk fast enough, she picked her up. “Come on, poppet. Perhaps the housekeeper can guide us since it seems Oliver hasn’t a clue.”

A scant half hour later saw Daniela happily bouncing on a bed that had been dressed with a white counterpane trimmed with crocheted eyelet lace. Some of the toys scattered about the gleaming hardwood were slightly worn, but the girl had already played with two of the dolls.

The housekeeper smiled. “Those toys were in storage and used to belong to the viscount’s sisters. I don’t see the harm in letting this wee one play with them.”

“You’re a gem. Thank you.” Eloisa nodded at the woman. “Will you keep an eye on her? I need to return home, and I’m sure the viscount needs to make arrangements since his world has been set on its ear.”

“My pleasure, miss.” The woman nodded. “It’s been too long since I’ve had little ones to mind. It’ll bring back nice memories, especially since none of the Darrington brood has started families.”

Oliver groaned. “Not you too, Susan. You’re as bad as Mother.” He left the room in a huff.

Eloisa glanced at the housekeeper. “If something goes horribly wrong and you cannot quiet the girl, I’m just next door. Come fetch me and I’ll try to sooth the situation.”

“Very well, miss. I did think it awful scandalous having the girl under this roof, but the more I think of it now, the more I know she needs to be here. She’ll settle the viscount. You just watch.”

I don’t know about that, but there are worse pairings.
She nodded, thanked the woman again then followed Oliver back to the parlor. He paced the length of the room, his hair sticking up in even more angles than it had before. “I assume your mother is most anxious for her children to wed?”

He turned and pinned her with a baleful glance. “Always. Just this morning, in the midst of the upheaval Daniela’s arrival brought, I received a letter from my
dear
parent.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “She has the gall to summon me to London when I’ve barely gotten settled here. She’s having a dinner party and says Felix and Charlotte will be in attendance.”

“This is a bad thing? Do you not wish to spend time with your siblings?” She couldn’t resist baiting him. There was something about him that appealed to her sense of humor.

“No, it’s not that.” Oliver resumed his pacing. On the pass that brought him near her position, he sighed and finally halted. “Perhaps it is that. Both Felix and Charlotte have recently found matches, and apparently they’ve come about quite scandalously. My brother is married and is involved with matters of Parliament and running the estate, while Charlotte will no doubt be obnoxiously happy and gushing about her coup.”

Eloisa snorted then hurriedly turned her amusement into a cough. “I see. Is it their romantic happiness you despise or the fact your mother wishes the same for you?”

His bark of laughter held no mirth. “Mother doesn’t want happiness for her children. She wants grandchildren, plain and simple.”

The poor man was practically beside himself. “Forgive me if I sound confused, but is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” His eyes were a tad wild. “Er, it is for me. I’m not a family man, have no wish for children or a wife. I want my ship and the sea and the freedom found therein.”

She gaped. Never had she heard such passion from a man. His blue gaze sparkled. A flush of color enlivened his face. Another tingle moved through her lower belly. Too bad such a magnificent man wanted to shut himself away. Equally as bad was his stance on wives and children. Good thing she felt absolutely no attraction to him whatsoever. Thank goodness she was still in love with Peter. “Well, that is a problem since you do have a child under your roof.” She didn’t bother to hide her irritation. Not passionate about a wife or a child? What sort of man was he? Didn’t all men wish to settle down with a love and a family?

“Yes, it is.” He turned, and when she thought he’d pace again, he, instead, stood in front of the window with his hands clasped behind his back. “I wish you luck in getting your sister’s difficulty sorted, but I’m feeling quite fatigued at the moment and wish to be alone. Good day, Miss Hawthorne.”

It was the first time she’d witnessed any trace of the viscount in him since they’d met. A thrill moved down her spine at the first use of his power she’d seen. “Very well.” It wasn’t even a polite dismissal. “I wish you well with Daniela. I hope you’ll promise to give things a chance before you dump her on an orphanage step. Regardless of how you hold her mother in your memories and regardless of whether the child is yours by blood, the girl is a small person and has feelings of her own. Don’t add to her trauma. None of it is her fault.”

So saying, she exited the parlor without giving him an opportunity for rebuttal. Not that he would have. Oliver Darrington might be a handsome fellow, but he could keep his demons to himself. She had other things to worry about and none of them included delving into the secrets he kept to figure him out.

Helen needs me more.
As long as she remembered that, life would move on as normal.

Chapter Four

It had been three days since the advent of Daniela in the town house, and in those three days, Oliver’s patience had been tried more times than he could count. If it hadn’t been for Carruthers and Susan, he didn’t know what he would have done, for each time the girl needed something or wished to play, they quietly whisked her away. Once, he’d even spied his butler—old and frail Carruthers—racing the little girl down the staircase with laughter trailing in their wake.

At least she hadn’t taken to crying again. Oh no. Since the older retainers practically gave the girl the run of the house, her new favorite thing to do was to stand in the doorway of his study and stare at him, usually with a finger in her mouth and a doll tucked under her arm. She never talked, never did much of anything except watch him. When she tired, she’d dash off into another part of the house, but invariably she’d return to his doorway. Twice he’d tried to engage her in conversation and twice, dark, unreadable emotion had sprung into her eyes before she ran away, yet he had the distinct impression she was assessing him, searching for something in him he didn’t know if he possessed. At times, she’d cock her head to the side in such a manner that provoked memories of Maria, and that terrified him. What if, by some bizarre twist, the girl truly was his by blood?

Then he firmly shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. That couldn’t be fathomed. He should be angry at Maria, even at the child, since it seemed that his mistress had seen another man while under his protection. He snorted. He couldn’t have made a bigger muck of things if he’d tried.

A tiny sound at the door roused him from his contemplation of the local paper. Daniela stood again in his doorway, same stance as before. Susan had gone to the market for supplies and Carruthers had accompanied her. Most likely the pair of them would return with a treat for the girl. Oliver scowled as he tried to ignore the child’s presence by facing away from her. The older couple had fallen under Daniela’s charm and would do anything for her. It apparently had been as easy for them as it had with Eloisa.

He hadn’t. There simply wasn’t a place for a child in the life he wanted. A fit of the blue devils descended. How the hell was he to unravel this knot? The more he attempted to ignore the child, the more the weight of her stare bore into him. Finally, he glanced at her and met her gaze. For one second, he expected her to look away, but she did not. Instead, she slid the finger from her mouth and gave him a grin that held enough mischief to put a houseful of servants on alert.

Curiosity speared him. She really was a pretty thing and for the time being, she did live here. Why shouldn’t they be friends? With slow movements, he stood and edged around his desk. The rich scent of his tea permeated the air, but he only had eyes for the little girl. Would today be the day she called a truce? “Hello, Daniela.” He kept his voice low as he extended a hand. “Would you like to keep me company?”

She looked at his hand then back at his face. “Where is Isa?”

Who? He wracked his brain. Who did she mean? Was that the name of one of her dolls? “I’m sorry, pet. I’m not sure who you’re talking about.” He wriggled his fingers. “Want to come read the paper with me?”

Daniela shook her head. “Want Isa to come.” She pointed out the window.

Oh. Oh! She wanted Eloisa, his pretty neighbor. Heat rushed over him as he recalled seeing her for the first time in his entryway. His recognition of her had hit him like the proverbial lightning bolt out of the blue. The last time he remembered seeing her, she’d been an awkward, clumsy schoolgirl when she’d visited with her brother from London, but now her Italian heritage had transformed her into an enchanting beauty, and one he’d disparaged thanks to his rampant lack of society charm.

He cleared his throat. “Daniela, I’m sure Eloisa is busy.”

Yes, he’d felt a strong rush of initial desire for his neighbor, but he’d tamped it. He didn’t want an involvement, not now. There was adventure ahead for him, and if he could manage to make other provision for the child, he could still be on schedule to meet it. He’d worked too long and too hard to gain this place in his life. No way would he go adventuring while leg-shackled to a whiny, fragile woman who feared malaria or tropical diseases or sleeping outside at times. And Eloisa fit that bill. If anyone was more feminine than Miss Hawthorne, he hadn’t seen them.

The heat intensified through his chest. Her lavender dress had clung to her ample curves that day, and the woman was charming when she wasn’t bossing him or attempting to manipulate, but an attractive female was even more of a challenge onboard a ship than a plain one. One look at her ivory skin and blonde-brown curls and anyone could see she didn’t spend time outdoors. She’d probably complain to no end if the sun brought out freckles or if the sea dampened her skirts or that she was bored.

His brain stalled on the mental image of Eloisa standing in wet skirting with the fabric clinging to her legs and bosom. He shook his head and practically demanded the images to flee.

I do not have the time or the inclination to play nursemaid to children or persnickety women.

A timid tug at his tail coat brought him back into the present. “Oliver, I want a story.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “Please.”

He heaved a sigh and the desire he’d felt for Eloisa faded beneath a wave of flattered amusement. “I’m glad to see you have some manners, pet. What sort of story shall it be then? And just one. Then I have work to do.” Only one and then he had to maintain distance from her. The less time he spent with her meant the break when he inevitably gave her to an orphanage upon sailing wouldn’t be hard on him—or her for that matter. Hell, the best course of action would be to bundle her off to the orphanage straightaway. The less time either of them had to form an attachment, the better. Except… except he remembered his promise to his neighbor and the shocked look in her eyes when she’d assumed he’d do exactly that.
Stuff and bother. I’m weak willed for certain.
“Go fetch a story book and I’ll read to you.”

As she ran out of the room, her little legs pumping, Oliver frowned. Good heavens, what had he been reduced to, reading fairy stories to wayward children? He shuddered to think what his crew would say if they ever found out.

Half an hour later, instead of replying to correspondence or even formulating his regrets to the few dinner invites that had come his way, Oliver monitored Daniela as she played quietly on the rug nearby. In her own little world she talked to her dolls—she’d retrieved a couple more since he’d read the promised book to her—plus she’d convinced Carruthers—who’d returned—to drag in a rocking horse of gleaming, cherry wood. Now, she perched herself on said horse with a doll in front of her while she sang a nursery song Susan must have taught her. The charming, nostalgic scraps he understood hurtled him back through time to when he and his sisters used to play very much like that, only in the nursery and never in the study.

He shoved a hand through his hair then laid his reading glasses on the desktop. If he succumbed to madness and kept her, what sort of father figure would he be if he couldn’t deny her entry into even this room? Would he fail in other ways as well?

A scratching at the door brought him out of his doldrums. Carruthers stood in the entry. “Your brother, the Earl of Swandon, is here, my lord.”

The bottom dropped out of Oliver’s stomach. His brother. Here. Now. He threw a panicked glance at Daniela. Felix would see the child and the questions would start. Finally, he looked at the butler. “Where is he?” Perhaps there was still a chance Felix would have bowed to convention and allowed himself to be shown into the parlor.

“He is, uh—”

“Right here, old chap,” Felix interrupted. He threw an arm about the older man’s shoulders. “Still trying desperately to uphold societal rules, eh, Carruthers?” He released the butler and once the man left them alone, he advanced into the room. “Here you finally are, brother. I feared you’d never return to England’s shores.” He’d put on a few pounds since the last time Oliver had seen him. Obviously, married life suited him well, yet he was still firmly in the prime of life.

“Right.” Oliver stood, but before he could properly greet his brother, Felix’s attention fell onto Daniela. “Um, there are a few things you should know.” He couldn’t very well keep the girl a secret now.

His brother’s lips formed a tight line as he raised a dark eyebrow. “Out with it, man.” Though his blue eyes still twinkled with humor, they now held a hard edge. “Please don’t tell me she’s yours.”

“That’s the rub.” Oliver gestured to one of the leather chairs across from the desk. “You’d best sit for the telling.” He more or less collapsed into his own chair then leaned back while he pondered just how to break the news to his older brother, the one sibling he’d always looked up to for advice and as a mentor.

Felix folded his tall form into a chair then leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Well? Out of all the men I know, I never worried you’d be the one to father a bastard.”

“Keep your voice down.” Oliver cringed and threw another glance to Daniela. Thankfully, the girl was involved in her own little world across the floor. With a sigh, he turned back to his brother. “Before you lecture me on the nuances of my life, perhaps it would behoove you to remember you haven’t been the monk nor was your life scandal-free.”

“Noted.” Felix nodded. “Continue.”

This was only the first of many trials that would come from his family. As quickly as he could, and in a low voice, Oliver relayed the information as he knew it. “Do I believe I fathered her?” He shook his head. “I do not, and look at her. There is no trace of Darrington in her features, even if one could ignore the timing.”

Felix fixed his gaze on the girl. After several long moments, he nodded. “Then Maria has done you a disservice. What will you do? You can’t mean to keep her on. It’s not seemly.”

“I’m not certain now.”

“Now? What does that mean?” Sharp interest filled Felix’s voice. “She’s not your concern.”

Oliver sighed. “When the girl arrived in a flurry of tears and angst a few days ago, I absolutely didn’t wish anything to do with her.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. Yet again he hadn’t bothered to shave. What a fright he must look. “Now, I’m not sure. Is it fair that I send her away simply because a run of bad luck put her on my doorstep?”

“But you have no legal claim on her, or she to you. There are many such waifs in this country.” Felix stood. He strode across the room toward Daniela’s position. “This one doesn’t have to be your responsibility. Didn’t you say you’d ship out in a few months?”