Once Upon A Dream (11 page)

Christine was in a great fever of activity and excitement during the morning, though there was no real need. Wulfric's secretary, his butler and
housekeeper, and an army of servants had everything well in hand, Eleanor judged. Trying to lend a helping hand herself would only cause them all
annoyance. Like the other guests, she stayed out of the way. She sat for a while in her mother's sitting room, but when it began to fill up with other
ladies, she fetched a shawl from her room and went walking alone outside. She took a diagonal course across the wide lawn west of the house, no particular
destination in mind. Servants and gardeners were setting up for the children's party in the area around the lake.

When she was some distance from the house, she became aware of a voice calling her name and turned to watch Robert Benning come dashing toward her, all
alone. By the time he reached her he was breathless and wide-eyed, the blond fuzz of his hair even more unruly than usual. He stopped abruptly a few feet
from her, hung his head, and scuffed the grass with the toe of his shoe, all his courage apparently having deserted him.

"Robert," Eleanor said, "what is it? Have you come to walk with me?" Her heart ached with love for the child, who shied away from every other adult except
his father and his nurse.

He mumbled something.

"What?" she asked. She stooped down on her haunches to bring herself closer to his level. "Is something troubling you, sweetheart?"

"Georgie said I had to do it," he said, his chin still tucked against his chest. "Because she can't. She promised."

"And what is it you have to do?" she asked. This sounded very underhanded.

"Tell you," he said.

"Tell me?" She frowned. "What does she wish you to tell me?"

He mumbled something again and then looked abruptly up at her, his eyes huge and earnest. "That you are our mama," he blurted.

Eleanor tipped her head to one side. "I am your mama?"

"As soon as Georgie saw you," he said, "she knew. She told me to look for myself when you came for dinner, and then I knew too. And then we thought we
would not see you again, but you were here and Georgie said it was fate and meant to be and all we had to do was let Papa know it too before he picked that
other lady who is going to send Georgie away to school. Georgie told Papa, but he said you may not want to marry him or be our mama, and he made her
promise not to tell you because it might embarrass you. But he hasn't done anything since then and in two days we are going home and will never see you
again. Georgie said I must tell because a promise is a promise and she can't. But I think Papa will be cross with her for sending me instead. He will be
cross with me too for coming. But I had to come, not just because Georgie said so. I don't want never to see you again. Please can you do something?"

Eleanor doubted he had ever strung together so many words in his life before. He was breathless and flushed and furiously kicking at the grass with one
foot, and then he was rubbing both curled fists into his eyes and hanging his head again. She felt very close to tears. These two precious children wanted
her for their mama? But their father did not want her for his wife?

"Papa said maybe you do not want to marry him and be our mama," Robert murmured into his chest, "because you have a life of your own and are someone
important."

Eleanor reached out both arms and gathered him in. Ambiguous words, those—
maybe you do not want to marry him.
He had been avoiding being
alone with her. But he had fetched her that book from the library. He had sat close to her a few times when he might have joined another group. She had
been very careful on each occasion to be very correct and reserved in manner, lest he think she had foolish expectations. Was it possible…? And now
that she thought of it, he had not spent much time with Miss Everly in the past few days.

"Robert, sweetheart," she said, "I cannot think of any greater honor than to be your mama and Georgette's. I love you both very dearly indeed. But it
cannot happen, you know, unless I am also your papa's wife. And perhaps he does not want that. But if I cannot be your mama, I will always love you
anyway." He was right, though. She would probably not see them again after they left here the day after tomorrow.

She stood up when he wriggled out of her embrace. "But you would if he
did
want it?" he asked her, his face all bright eagerness.

"Well, yes," she said, "but—"

She got no farther. He turned and darted away, running and skipping in the direction of the house.

"Oh," she said, reaching out one arm toward him. "But… Oh."

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear!

Michael was playing billiards with a number of other guests who were staying out of the way of the preparations for the day's festivities. He was standing
by one of the tables, cue in hand, when he  felt something tapping persistently at the back of his waist. He turned to find his son standing there,
looking up at him with a face that brimmed with excitement. He was supposed to be upstairs on the nursery floor with all the other children. But here he
was and, wonder of wonders, he had walked into a room filled with adults.

"Papa," he cried as soon as he had his father's attention, "she said yes."

"Ah, one escaped convict," Lord Aidan Bedwyn said, smiling kindly down upon Robert who, surprisingly, did not duck for cover. It seemed doubtful he had
even heard.

"Who said yes about what?" Michael asked.

"Miss Thompson did," Robert cried. "She said yes, she would like to be our mama, and she said she would be your wife too if you wanted."

Too late Michael realized he ought to have clamped a hand over his son's mouth the instant the lady's name came out of it. The room had gone strangely
quiet. Every Bedwyn sibling was present except the Duke of Bewcastle. So were Lady Alleyne Bedwyn, the two men who were married to the Bedwyn sisters, the
Reverend Charles Lofter, the Marquess of Attingsborough, and two other guests. All of them had just been treated to the announcement that Miss Thompson
would have him if he wanted her.

"Robert, my lad," he said, "whatever have you been up to? And do I detect the devious mind of your sister behind it?"

"Georgie did not go, Papa," his son told him earnestly. "She could not. She had promised. So I went. And Miss Thompson said—"

"Right," Michael said briskly in the hearing of an audience whose members did not even pretend not to be avidly listening. "We had better find a private
room somewhere to discuss this. About five minutes too late, I might add."

He did not look about him as he took Robert's hand in his and strode for the door. He did not even look to see whose hand came down on his shoulder and
squeezed it sympathetically as they left the room. Good God. Really. Good God! If there were only a deep, dark hole available just beyond the billiard
room, he would gladly jump into it and curl up there and never come out.

But…

She would have him?

Had she really said that? Had she meant it?

Really?

Eleanor spent an hour alone in her room in an attempt to compose herself and then went to her mother's sitting room, where she also found Hazel and Claudia
and Eve, Lady Aidan Bedwyn. She stayed after everyone else had left and persuaded her mother to have luncheon brought up. If she could have thought of a
good enough excuse—a crashing migraine headache? A touch of smallpox?—she would have stayed there all afternoon and evening and all of
tomorrow. But alas, she had duties to perform. She had agreed to help organize the children's races.

Perhaps Robert had not said anything to his father. He knew, after all, that both he and his sister would be in trouble if the Earl of Staunton found out.
But oh, dear, she had never felt more mortified in her life. What if Robert
had
told? It did not bear thinking of.

She left her room after dressing for the afternoon party and marched downstairs and outdoors with an almost martial stride. She was met with the reassuring
sight of a number of house guests and neighbors invited for the occasion and hordes of exuberant, dashing, shrieking children. There was no sign of the
Earl of Staunton or either of his children. And if it seemed that some of the house guests were looking at her with knowing smirks, then of course it was
her imagination.

She continued her march to the lake and the area marked out for the races. The former Lady Morgan Bedwyn, now the Countess of Rosthorn, was some distance
away, setting up for the archery contest. Her husband and Charles, Eleanor's brother-in-law, were organizing a skipping rope contest. Rannulf Bedwyn and
his brother Alleyne were checking the boats, in which they would be giving rides. Eleanor's mother and Hazel were in the refreshment booth though a
full-scale picnic tea would be served on the west lawn later. Judith, Lady Rannulf Bedwyn, was in the dress-up circle, where there were piles of old
clothes and hats and fans and shoes and wigs culled from the attics so that the children could dress up to act out the stories she would tell. Freyja,
Marchioness of Hallmere, was in charge of the rolling and tumbling races down the hill. A swimming area had been staked out at the lake and was to be
supervised by Joshua, the Marquess of Hallmere. Christine would play games with the infants whenever she could find a spare moment. Aidan Bedwyn was
offering fencing lessons with wooden swords in a roped-off area under the trees. Rachel, Lady Alleyne Bedwyn, was organizing a stand of bright trinkets and
confections, which could be purchased with one of the five tokens issued to each child at the start.

Eleanor was soon busy with Eve, Lady Aidan Bedwyn, organizing children into age groups, helping them wriggle into sacks for the sack race and tie them
securely about their waists, making sure everyone stayed behind the starting line until the signal to begin was given. She picked up the smaller children
when they toppled over and set them on their way again. She was soon flushed and laughing and forgot the horrible embarrassment of the morning. Until, that
was, Georgette arrived to run the three-legged race for the over-tens with Lizzie, and their fathers came along behind them to watch.

"Oh, goodness," Eve said, "are you going to run the race, Lizzie? How splendidly brave of you."

"She is going to run it with me," Georgette said. "We will be close together—we have to be, don't we?—and will have our arms about each other's
waist. We will need only one pair of eyes. We have been practicing."

"It is the rest of the runners who are splendidly brave," the Marquess of Attingsborough remarked, "to run against Lizzie and Georgette."

Eleanor helped all five teams bind their legs together. Georgette and Lizzie were giggling. Lizzie's dog was sitting alertly beside the marquess, panting,
his eyes fixed upon his mistress. And then Eleanor straightened up and moved out of the way so that the race could begin—and her eyes met the Earl of
Staunton's. He did not smile. Neither did she.

He
knew,
she thought.

Becky, Eve's daughter, and her brother Davy won the race with ease, not having stumbled or fallen even once. Lizzie and Georgette were last by a
mile—or what would have been a mile if the track had been that long. They weaved about, fell, picked themselves up, weaved about again, fell again,
and so on until they finally stumbled across the finish line and collapsed, giggling and clinging together while the other racers and all the adults in the
vicinity applauded and even cheered.

"I don't think," Georgette said as she unbound their legs, "we won a prize, Lizzie." And they were off on an another paroxysm of snorting laughter.

"That was the last of the set of five races," Eve said. "It is time to call Wulfric to present the prizes."

Eleanor busied herself picking up and folding the cloths that had been used to bind legs, but she looked up when the Earl of Staunton spoke to her.

"I am so sorry," he said quietly. "You must have been horribly embarrassed."

"I was honored," she said, not pretending to misunderstand him, "to discover that that two young children who met me only briefly at a country inn thought
they saw their ideal of a new mother in me. I am touched that even after almost two weeks here they remain attached to me. Your children's affection, so
freely given, is like a precious gift that I will cherish in memory for a long time to come. You must not be embarrassed on my behalf, Lord Staunton, or on
your own. I have no expectation of actually being their mother. I have a full life of my own that I enjoy."

"I know," he said. "Thank you for being so gracious. I have understood from your…manner during the past few days that you do not wish to encourage me
to refine too much upon what happened during our walk together. You need have no fear that a pair of young matchmakers will harass you further or goad me
into doing so. Ah, here comes Bewcastle."

Wulfric was indeed approaching, Lord Arthur Bedwyn, the younger of his sons and Eleanor's nephew, astride his shoulders and clinging to the underside of
his chin with two plump little hands.

 "Every participant in the races receives something, I gather?" the earl asked.

"But of course," she said. "There are no losers at this children's party. It is not like real life, thank goodness."

He moved away to join the Marquess of Attingsborough and their daughters, who were still in giggling high spirits, their arms still about each other's
waist.

He had understood
from her
manner
?

He would not be goaded into harassing her?

Was he merely being kind, implying that
she
was the one who wanted nothing to do with
him
when really it was the other way around? Or had
he really misunderstood? She had certainly tried to behave with dignity during the past few days. She had not wanted him to feel—heaven
forbid—that his kiss had inspired her with false hope. She had not wanted him to feel trapped. Had she at the same time given the impression that she
did not
want
any further attentions?