Seducing Mr. Heywood (15 page)

Sophia couldn’t breathe. She released Brent’s hands and left the room, hurrying toward the nursery.
The boys! If he…
She gathered her skirts and ran up the winding staircase, stifling a sob with her fist.

But the boys were in fine fettle, she realized when she stood at the nursery’s open door. They were safe, safe with the vicar. John, the undignified new Baron Rowley, was pounding the scrubbed old deal table, exhorting Charles Heywood to pose his younger brother a mathematical problem he could not readily answer.

Charles’s right index finger was at his temple, his left arm across his chest. He wore a look of mock solemnity
on his face. “Ah, yes, Master William, let us cast our thoughts to a box, sir, a box I have, alas, recently lost.”

Sophia saw that William’s face was alert, his eyes fixed on his tutor.

“Now, this box, the one I have recently lost, this inlaid wooden box was a gift from my father, brought from India by a traveler; it was a box that I treasured, a teak box inlaid with ivory.”

“Do go on, sir!” John urged him.

Charles stayed him with a gesture. “There were a number of guineas and crown pieces in this lost box, but the only recollection I have of their number is that the crowns were seven times the number of the guineas, and that the number of shillings of the whole was one thousand, six hundred and twenty-four. So, young William, my question is: how many guineas and crowns did I lose?”

William shut his eyes in concentration. John set a large stopwatch he held in his hands. All eyes were on William.

“I have the answer, sir,” his little boy’s voice chirped. “It is twenty-nine guineas and two hundred and three crowns.”

John clicked the watch. “A minute!” he called out.

Charles looked down at the paper on which he had previously figured the answer to the problem. “He’s correct.”

“Well, that settles it, Mr. Heywood, sir,” John called out. “We must take him to the fair next week. We can bill him as the Midget Mental Calculator! He can amaze all the country folk for miles around.”

“Boys, I hardly think that your mother would be in favor of having her son on display for the amusement of country folk—” Charles began.

Sophia stepped quietly into the classroom, laughing. “You are right, sir. She would not.”

“Mama!” The boys jumped from their places and ran to embrace their mother. Engulfed in their enthusiastic expressions of love, she felt a lump in her throat, then remembered Lord Brent’s warning and shivered. If anything happened to her sons now, after they had become
so dear to her…She turned her mind to more pleasant thoughts.

“But this fair sounds as though it would make a charming family outing, Mr. Heywood.” She beamed at the boys, her arms tight around their shoulders.

A family outing.
Charles was elated at her use of the phrase and her evident intention to include him in the excursion. Was he now part of the family in his role as guardian to the boys as Lewis had once teased? He very much wanted to be part of it, but in another manner entirely. He adored the boys, and their mother, also.…Yes, he adored her. From his initial impression of her as a fierce and belligerent beauty, he had progressed to seeing her as a kind and loving mother to the boys and a friend to him. Since that intimate moment in the rose garden, he’d known the lady desired more from him; well, so did he, from her. ’Twas time, he thought, to sort it all out. He would gird his loins and ask the lady to marry him. She might very well laugh in his face, but if he did not make the attempt…Was it unreasonable of him to expect her to consider his proposal? She had said a number of times that she had no wish to wed again.

A line from one of Shakespeare’s plays flashed into his brain. “To say the truth,” a character had stated, “reason and love keep little company nowadays.” Words as true now, in the second decade of the nineteenth century, as they ever were in the days of Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen.

The fresh-faced footman, Fred, had brought in another letter. It lay on the chased silver tray, white and plump, embossed with a red wax seal. Lady Sophia picked it up with no little curiosity. Her second missive in as many weeks! She recollected, with no regret, the masses of invitations she was wont to receive in London as she was a favorite, a leading hostess and partygoer, among the
ton.
So many…and so forgettable. Had she ever truly enjoyed those crowded, noisy events? She picked up the letter and broke the seal.

It was from someone she did not know. She pursed her lips, considering the request. She would have to speak to Charles; perhaps he knew these people. But Tuesday was not one of the days he came to Rowley Hall for the boys’ lessons; she would have to send for him.

Fred was awaiting milady’s pleasure. He was a tall boy; footmen were hired for their height. Sophia frowned. There was a bruise on his jaw. Were her servants engaging in amateur fisticuffs? Ah, well, men will be men, she thought, and the pugilists Mendoza and Cribb were heroes, both to the common men and the men of the
ton.
She refrained from commenting on it.

“Fred, would you please walk to the vicarage and ask
Mr. Heywood to come here this morning if his schedule allows it? I need to confer with him.”

The boys were in the stables discussing the upcoming fair with Lord Brent when the vicar arrived on horseback. Charles frowned. When were these London visitors going to leave? Brent was becoming an annoyance, too much in the company of the boys and Lady Sophia for his peace of mind.
I am jealous
, he thought.
Envy is one of the seven deadly sins…as is Lust.…

John rushed to greet Charles as he dismounted. A stable boy came to take the reins. “Mr. Heywood, sir! Lord Brent has been telling us of the Nottingham fairs, where he saw geese being driven to market in the springtime. Did you know, sir, that the drovers often encased the feet of the geese in little cloth shoes?”

The big man sauntered over, at ease with his body and his good looks, Charles could not help noting, as he enlarged upon his story. “Lads, I saw great gaggles of geese, thousands strong, being driven by gooseherds and bonneted young goose-girls with crooks. They were weeks on the road, these creatures, on their way to becoming some family’s holiday dinner, having been plucked of their feathers at least twice, their down at least five times.”

Brent turned and squatted beside the boys, who had taken seats on a large bale of hay, entranced by the bizarre story. “I did myself see the cunning cloth shoes, once or twice, but more often the geese were fitted for their long journey, some eighty to one hundred miles, by being driven first through a shallow pond of tar and then into a patch of sand, to harden their feet. This procedure was repeated at intervals throughout the drive, and that, too, was an odd sight.”

Throwing back his head, Brent recited in a deep baritone voice, “Who eats goose on Michaelmas Day, shan’t money lack his debts to pay. At Christmas a capon, at Michaelmas a goose, and something else at New Year’s Eve for fear the lease fly loose!”

“Bravo!” John applauded the oft-quoted proverb.

Brent grinned, ruffling young John’s hair. Charles grimaced, again acknowledging his jealousy of Brent as a possible rival for Sophia’s affections and those of her sons. Why was he so proprietary? It was unseemly. He was not their father…yet…though he desired to be. Years of proximity to the boys had nurtured his love for them. And now Sophia was added to the emotional mix.

“Mr. Heywood,” William asked, “why are you here today, sir? It is Tuesday.”

“Your mama has asked to see me, William. I am here in response to her message,” he replied, noting that Lord Brent’s ears seemed to perk up at the mention of the lady.

William nodded. “Will you come riding with us, sir? Lord Brent is taking us to the high moors this morning.”

“I don’t know if I can, William. I have no idea what your mother wants to discuss with me; I may be closeted with her a while.” The boy’s mouth turned down in disappointment.

Charles turned to Brent. The gentleman did not seem pleased he was going to see Lady Sophia. Or was it his imagination? “’Tis rocky terrain there, sir, with many rabbit holes difficult to see. It warrants careful riding.”

Brent nodded. “Thank you, sir, I am aware of that. I’ve ridden up that way. Do not fear. I will be careful with the lads.” He patted William’s head. “I will take care of them as if they were my own sons.” Brent smiled.

Not while I live will they be your sons, sirrah
, Charles thought, shaken by the sudden ferocity of his feelings.

Sophia pointed to the open letter on the table. “Who
are
these people, Mr. Heywood?” she asked the vicar.

Charles picked up the letter and scanned its message. The boys were invited to the home of an Eton classmate from the Lake District. Charles smiled. “I know the Mainwaring family, my lady. Their manor lies not far from my father’s, near Bowness Bay on Lake Windemere.”

“Good people, then?” Sophia queried with an anxious look.

“Excellent. They have been close friends of my family
for years. In fact, their daughter and my sister Beth are bosom bows.” Charles stopped himself. The Mainwaring daughter, Charlotte Anne, was one of the young women his sisters were forever teasing him about. Sweetly pretty and devout, Charlotte Anne would make an ideal vicar’s wife, they said.

“Sir?” Sophia’s voice brought him back to the present. He cleared his throat.

“So, then,” she continued, “it would be safe to send the boys for a visit?”

Charles was puzzled at her choice of words. “
Safe?
Of course they would be safe. Why do you ask?”

Sophia laughed. “Did I say ‘safe’? La, sir, I meant to say…would they enjoy themselves?”

“Shall we ask them if they would like to go?” Such visits among country families were common, and could last several weeks. The boys would miss the fair, but there would probably be a fair or two in Cumbria, in the Lake District, to make up for it.

“Yes, of course. Let us do so. Where are they now, do you know?” Sophia seemed anxious, Charles thought. Something was worrying her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Sophia’s blue eyes flew to meet his. “Charles—” He was conscious of her intimate use of his name. She laid a slim hand on his arm. “Charles, I worry so about them. If anything were to happen to either of them, I could not bear it. I could not.”

“Sophia—” They were alone, a dangerous situation, and addressing each other by their first names. He swallowed. “My lady, nothing will happen to them. I swear to you, I will not allow it.” And he would not, he knew, if he had the power to protect them; he would give his own life for them.

Lady Sophia’s reconciliation with her two sons was a miracle. She loved them with a fierce maternal passion, and they adored her. George had wisely kept Sophia alive for her boys, despite her physical absence.

Her hand brushed his cheek. “You are so good to me, Charles. I do not know what I would do without you,
truly. You—” She stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against his. Charles trembled.

“Sophia—” he whispered, cupping her face with his hands. “Sophia—”

She was in his arms, holding him tight, and weeping openly. The tears seemed to stun her as much as they did him. They welled up from somewhere deep and hidden inside her, as if a large block of ice had melted suddenly and overflowed its boundaries like a river in flood. Charles held her while she cried. It seemed to him that she was crying not only for her boys, but for herself, for George, for everything that had ever happened to her. The notorious Lady Sophia Rowley…Who would have thought it? He held her closely as she drenched his new brocaded waistcoat with her tears.

Charles stayed for luncheon, sitting at the table in his damp waistcoat. When the boys returned from their ride with Lord Brent, they were enthusiastic about the invitation from Hal and Thaddeus Mainwaring until they remembered the upcoming fair.

“We were so looking forward to the fair, Mama,” William pouted.

John elbowed his brother. “Looby! There will be others!”

Sophia frowned, and John straightened up. “Sorry, Mama,” he whispered. She continued to frown. He turned to his little brother. “Sorry, William.”

“That is better,” she replied, hugging her sons. “There will be other fairs, Mr. Heywood assures me, and probably some in the Lake District. His family is from there, as you know, and the Mainwarings are great friends of the Heywoods. Perhaps you will have the opportunity to visit his family home.” But she was leaving the choice of whether or not to accept the invitation to them. “If you do
not
want to go, however, that is fine, also.”

“Hal and Thaddeus are great guns, Mama,” John assured her.

William agreed. “We like them. It would be fun to visit. We have never been to Cumbria.”

“You make the decision. Whatever you say, that is fine with me.” She looked at Charles. “Of course, you will miss your lessons with Mr. Heywood.”

John considered this. “We could make up for them when we return, Mama.” He looked at the vicar for confirmation. “And Mr. Heywood says we are ahead of ourselves, anyway.”

Charles nodded. “The boys have been very diligent, my lady. The visit will not affect their studies.”

“Well, then,” Sophia said with a smile, “it is settled. I will send Joan to help Harriet sort out your clothes for the visit, and I will reply to this invitation forthwith.” The boys clapped their hands in glee.

The Earl of Dunhaven hung back, taking in the scene between his daughter and his grandsons. Perfect! As soon as he found out when the boys would be leaving for Cumbria, he would contact those rogues in Roslyn Town. Sophia would be putty in his hands with her sons disposed of. He would comfort her on her great loss even as he made plans to relieve her of George’s fortune. He grinned inwardly, pleased with himself.