The Improper Wife (26 page)
She shivered again, and he woke to the need to get her warm and dry. He let go of her and turned to her maid. “We must get her warm. Help me remove her wet clothes.” He fumbled with Maggie’s laces, his fingers too numb to undo the wet knot.
“Let me, sir,” the maid said.
Mrs. Thomas rushed in, her housekeeping duties abandoned for the moment. “What happened? The poor dear.” She nearly pushed Gray aside to pull the sodden dress off Maggie.
“Fell in the stream,” he managed, his energy flagging. “You must get her warm.”
Maggie’s attention had shifted to Sean, who now whimpered while Miss Miles wrapped a blanket around him.
“Give him warm milk,” she pleaded.
“And hot tea for Mrs. Grayson,” Gray added. His teeth chattered and he began to shiver.
Decker appeared at his elbow. “Come, sir.”
Decker led him into his own bedchamber. With the calmness and efficiency of a seasoned gentleman’s gentleman, Decker peeled off Gray’s wet waistcoat and shirt.
“By God, Decker,” Gray rasped. “I thought the boys would drown.”
“But they did not, sir,” the valet murmured comfortingly, pausing long enough to hand Gray a glass of brandy, which he downed in two gulps.
Decker held out a velvet banian Gray recognized as having once belonged to his brother. He allowed himself to be wrapped in it, fancying it smelled of Vincent even after all these years.
I’m sorry, Vincent,
he said to himself.
I almost let your son drown.
He should not have let the boys run ahead. He should have seen the danger.
Decker insisted he sit in the chair by the fire. Gray’s limbs trembled while Decker pulled off his sodden boots.
“If you can salvage these boots, Decker, you’ll soon be in demand in London.”
“I fear that task might be beyond my powers,” replied Decker, betraying a hint of a smile.
A maid appeared with a pot of tea and poured him a cup. Gray reached for the decanter of brandy and added a generous amount to the tea, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. Soon the warmth reached his stomach and the pins and needles stopped piercing his feet.
“Help me dress, Decker.”
“Dress, sir? I beg you to rest.” The man dropped the sodden clothing he had been gathering in his arms.
“No. I’ve rested enough.”
Decker regarded him somewhat disapprovingly, but provided a fresh set of clothes and helped Gray into them. The valet gathered the wet clothes in a bundle and bowed himself out of the room.
Gray opened the connecting door to Maggie’s bedchamber. She sat in a rocking chair holding Sean, all wrapped in a blanket. Without asking for an invitation, he entered the room.
“How is he?”
She glanced up looking wan. She smiled at him. “He is sleeping, and his breathing is regular.”
Gray found a chair and set it near her. “And you, Maggie?”
She searched his face and extended her hand to briefly touch his cheek. “I am shaken, Gray, but so thankful I can barely speak.”
He turned away, ashamed. “I should not have allowed them to go to the stream alone.”
“Yes,” she agreed without a hint of censure in her voice. She gazed back at her son. “But this time the water did not take them.”
It was an odd statement. “There will never be another time, Maggie. I shall make certain of it.”
She gave a melancholic shrug of her shoulder. “There is no such certainty.”
She looked like a schoolgirl with her damp hair tied back from her face, a soft dressing gown wrapped around her. He wanted to hold her as she held Sean. He wanted to clasp both of them to his chest and never let go of them.
A knock sounded at the door. Olivia entered. Gray rose to his feet.
“Maggie, dearest, I came to see how you and Sean are faring.” Olivia’s eyes were warm with concern. She gave Gray a small smile. “You, too, Gray.”
Maggie smiled at Olivia. “I have nothing but a scratch or two, and besides being quite exhausted, Sean seems unhurt as well. Tell me, is Rodney all right?”
Gray gave Olivia his chair. “Oh, Rodney protests that he is unhurt, but I am so afraid he will become consumptive,” she said as she leaned over to stroke Sean’s dark curls.
“Does he cough?” Maggie asked.
“No,” Olivia admitted, leaning back in the chair. “He seems perfectly fine. Mr. Hendrick bade me leave him, though it pained me to do so. He said I was keeping the boy from resting.”
“He’s a strong and very brave boy,” Gray said. Recklessly brave, he thought, though it would not be wise to tell Olivia Rodney had jumped in the water on purpose.
“He saved Sean,” Maggie added.
“Did he?” Olivia’s eyes widened. “He said nothing of it. That is another worry. He usually chatters about everything, but he will say nothing about this.”
Maggie sent Gray a worried glance.
“Would you like me to check on him?”
Olivia nearly came out of her chair. “Oh, please do, Gray.”
He nodded and, with one more glance between him and Maggie, left the two ladies and the sleeping child.
He’d not visited the children’s wing since returning to Summerton. He did not even know which of the rooms was his nephew’s, so he opened doors at random. One revealed a room so neat and orderly it could only be Hendrick’s. Behind another door he found a very startled Miss Miles, who told him Rodney and Hendrick were in the schoolroom. Gray knew which room was the schoolroom.
He gave a knock before entering. Mr. Hendrick sat at the tutor’s desk, in the same location as it had been when Gray was a boy. Without a word, Hendrick cocked his head toward Rodney.
Rodney sat at the desk that had once been his father’s. He had a slate and a bit of chalk and was busily writing. He did not heed his uncle’s entrance.
Gray tossed Hendrick a questioning look. The tutor shook his head and gestured for Gray to go to Rodney. Gray crossed the room and put his tall frame in the small chair that had once been his. Mr. Hendrick slipped out of the room.
“What are you doing?” Gray asked mildly.
Rodney did not look up. “Sums.” He wrote numbers on the slate and added or subtracted them. When the slate was full, he took a rag and wiped the numbers away, only to write new ones.
Gray had little experience addressing young boys. “Did Mr. Hendrick set you to this task?”
Rodney shook his head. “He said no lessons today.” He scrawled five plus six equals eleven, six minus five equals one.
“Ah,” Gray said, for lack of anything else to say. He shifted his body, trying to get more comfortable. “Well, he probably hoped to pass the afternoon with Miss Miles.”
Rodney looked up then. “I have spoiled his plans,” he said mournfully. He slammed down the slate and wrapped his arms across his chest.
“It is a good thing.” Gray spoke softly. “For we do not pay him to court Miss Miles.” He tried giving the boy a smile. “At least not at the expense of his duties.”
Rodney stared down at his desk for a long time.
What the devil do I say?
wondered Gray. He ran a hand through his hair and picked out a small twig.
“I should be flogged,” Rodney finally said.
Gray looked at him in surprise. “Is that what Hendrick told you?”
“No,” admitted Rodney. “He refused when I asked.” He looked hopefully at Gray. “But perhaps you will give me a flogging?”
Good God. If anyone flogged this child, they would get a whole lot worse from Gray.
“Do not soldiers get a flogging if they do something very, very bad?” Rodney asked, his expression serious.
“Yes,” Gray admitted. “But there is a trial. The charges are read, and the offender may refute them.”
“No need for that,” Rodney said firmly. “I’ll not refute them.”
Gray’s heart was melting. “Might I be told what the charges are, before I go in search of the cat-o’-nine-tails?”
Rodney squared his shoulders and sat very straight on his stool. His big eyes, so like his father’s, filled with tears.
“I let go of Sean’s hand.”
Gray felt as if someone had stabbed him directly in the heart.
Rodney, not moving a muscle, went on, “Aunt Maggie told me not to let go of him and I did and he ran to the edge and fell in.”
Being well versed in guilt, Gray knew better than to brush it away. “Well, let us examine this more closely.” He made his voice lower and quieter. “Did you deliberately let go of Sean’s hand?”
“No,” cried Rodney, the tears nearly erupting. “But I should have held him tighter.”
Gray reached over and brushed the boy’s hair off his face, but Rodney jerked away. “Did you ever see Sean pull away from your aunt Maggie?” he asked gently.
Rodney’s eyes widened a bit, but he nodded.
“Is she not stronger than you?”
The boy pondered this. “But she is a girl.”
Gray’s mouth twitched. “I had noticed that. She is strong even so, can we agree? She bent the tree so we could catch on to it.”
Rodney nodded again.
Gray reached over and lifted his nephew from the stool, setting him down in front of him so they were eye to eye.
“Let me tell you something, Rodney.” He kept his voice steady, but with some effort. “I saw in your behavior nothing but bravery. I have served with many men and have fought in many battles, but rarely have I seen a man show so much pluck as you did when you jumped in the water after Sean.”
Rodney tried to look away, but Gray caught his chin and made the boy face him again.
“You held on when it most counted. Sean would be dead if you had not. I am as proud of you as a man can be.” His voice broke and he finished in a whisper. “Your father would have been proud of you, too.”
Rodney fell against his uncle, who wrapped his arms around the boy, his own eyes moist. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let us look in some of these cupboards. I’ll wager I can show you some toys and books that were your father’s.”
Gray glanced toward the doorway and saw Hendrick standing there. The young man smiled.
Gray stood up, and with Rodney’s hand in his, they walked over to the cupboards.
S
ean slept nearly two hours, and Maggie held him the whole time, silently repeating thanks over and over. Thanks to Rodney for risking his young life. Thanks to Gray, who brought both boys safely to shore. Thanks to God, who again delivered Gray to her when she most needed him. And thanks to God that the stream had not carried Gray away from her.
If she closed her eyes, the scenes returned. Rodney jumping in the water. Gray going in after him and disappearing in the current. Sean gone. Rodney shouting, holding Sean for so long she had been certain he must let go. Gray rising from the water and bringing them all to safety.
So she kept her eyes open and gazed at the wonderful gift that was her son, the gift Gray had given her twice.
Sean woke and rubbed his eyes. “Where is Wodney?” He squirmed off Maggie’s lap. “Where is Miss Miles?”
Maggie combed his hair, no longer damp, with her fingers. “Rodney should be with Mr. Hendrick.” Sean knew he was not to disturb Rodney when he was with his tutor.
“I want Miss Miles. Tell Miss Miles I fell in water!”
Sean had apparently not noticed Miss Miles doting upon him the moment he was carried to this house.
He pulled at his mother’s hand. “Find Miss Miles!”
“I cannot, Sean, I am not dressed.” Maggie wore only the dressing gown her maid wrapped her in after removing her wet and torn clothing.
Sean was undaunted. Though in a nightshirt himself, he ran out the door, shouting, “Miss Miles! Miss Miles!”
She hurried after him, but when she opened the door, she saw Miss Miles in the hallway, lifting Sean up in her arms and carrying him off, probably to her room where she would undoubtedly have some sweets.
Maggie smiled, giving more thanks, this time for the quiet young woman who cared so much for her son.
She closed the door again and glanced around. Every object in the room looked dearly familiar, but somehow more vibrant in hue. She walked over to the little room where Sean slept. From the doorway, she gazed at Sean’s small bed and at the little pair of shoes tucked in the room’s corner. Sean was alive to wear those shoes. She had not lost him. Because of Gray, she had not lost her son. She swung around to the door connecting her room with Gray’s. Her heart swelled in her chest at the thought of him.
She loved him.
This feeling was more than the yearnings of her body. She
loved
him. Maggie felt giddy. Joyous. Like she should dance up and down the room.
Kitt entered the room to help her dress for dinner. Maggie tried to maintain a sober appearance. This love for Gray must be kept secret, like all her other secrets. It would change nothing between them. It certainly did not mean his feelings for her had changed. Still, she needed to see him. To fill her eyes with his masculine perfection, to see his strength and his kindness.
“Oh, do hurry, Kitt,” she exclaimed when the maid put too much fuss into arranging Maggie’s hair.
When her toilette was finally complete, she rushed out of the room, almost colliding with Decker. “Do you know where Mr. Grayson is?” she asked breathlessly.
Decker always knew where Gray would be. It was his job to know, lest his services be needed. “Last I saw he was bound for the children’s wing.”
To Rodney. Maggie had almost forgotten. She hurried off in that direction.
The sounds of male laughter and banging furniture came from the schoolroom. Maggie cautiously peeked in. Like three little boys instead of one boy and two grown men, Gray and Hendrick and Rodney, battledores in their hands, knocked a shuttlecock about the room, bounding over furniture to hit it. Hendrick caught sight of her and immediately froze. It took Gray and Rodney a moment longer to see her in the doorway.
Her heart melted at the sight of Gray, hair disheveled, neckcloth totally askew, looking like a recalcitrant schoolboy. She
loved
him.
She pretended to be shocked. “What goes on here?”
Rodney was first to burst out laughing. “Lessons!” he finally managed, making the two men join in the laughter.
Maggie smiled. “So I see. I do apologize for interrupting, but might I borrow your uncle for a moment, Rodney?”