Family In The Making (Matchmakeing Babies 2) Read online

  She halted in the middle of the staircase and clutched the banister. Oh, sweet heavens! Was she looking forward to seeing Lord Trelawney again on the morrow? She had no idea which version of him would be there: the quiet, almost forbidding man who had gone with them to the cove or the genial man whom she had spoken with minutes ago.

  But it should not matter. The abrupt change should be alarming rather than appealing, a signal to remind her that becoming involved even a tiny bit in the viscount’s life could lead her into a desperate situation. As when Lord Litchfield had chanced upon her alone in the book room. Had she completely lost every bit of her good sense? It would seem so, and she must recover it fast.

  Very fast, before she ruined everything again, including herself.

  Chapter Four

  Though clouds gathered on the western horizon, sunlight shone through the changing leaves as if the whole world was bedecked in stained glass. Arthur inhaled deeply as he sat on the terrace overlooking the garden and the sea spread out to the horizon. Some autumn days could be unforgivingly windy, and today seemed like a special gift, before winter took Cornwall in its unforgiving grip.

  He savored sitting in the sunshine while a breeze carried the pungent aromas of salt, drying fish and tar from the harbor. Even though he had been confined to the house less than a day, it seemed longer to a man accustomed to a life outdoors.

  The rhythm of hammers came from where the stable was being rebuilt. It had burned two months ago, but the new one was rising. He had overseen the plans for it, and the building would be well suited for their use.

  “You look satisfied with yourself,” said his older sister as she stepped onto the terrace. Carrie shifted into the shade so the baby she carried would not be bothered by the sunshine.

  He started to rise, then thought better of it when pain slashed up his leg. Sinking into the chair, he said, “I was thinking of how those French pirates who tried to invade Porthlowen did us a favor by giving us an excuse to build a new stable.”

  Carrie shivered and sat facing him. “You have an odd way of seeing good in something terrible.”

  “As Shakespeare wrote, ‘Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.’” Arthur chuckled. “My tutor despaired of me ever retaining his lessons, but for some reason that quote stayed with me.”

  She slapped his arm playfully. “Do not pretend with me, Arthur. You always loved learning. While Raymond, Susanna and I were eager to play, you clung to the schoolroom. The dutiful son, learning his lessons and staying out of trouble.”

  “Sometimes.” Again, the image burst into his head of his baby sister lying facedown in the water. “When I was younger, I was not as responsible.”

  “None of us were.” She gazed out at the sea. “How could we spend our time in books when we had a vast wonderland to explore in Porthlowen?”

  They sat in companionable silence, enjoying the sunshine. He kept his leg motionless, not wanting more of the jagged pains that sliced up from his ankle when he walked. He had refused to allow Goodwin to call for a couple of burly footmen to carry him from his bedchamber through the house. Being toted about like a helpless fool would be humiliating. Perhaps he had been foolish to give chase after the child instead of allowing Miss Oliver to retrieve him, but Arthur would not hesitate to do the same again.

  You have the heart of a hero. Cranny’s words echoed in his memory. Always ready to go to someone’s rescue, no matter the cost.

  At the time, Arthur had taken the words as a compliment. Now he was less certain his friend had intended them that way. Of course, Arthur would never be the great man that his friend was, giving his life in service to his country.

  His hands fisted on the arms of his chair. His attempts to find out the truth about Cranny’s murder had led him to dead ends. The people present at his friend’s death had gone to earth and taken the truth with them.

  “How are you getting along with the children?” Carrie’s voice intruded on his thoughts.

  He pushed them aside gratefully. Until he had a new lead, losing himself in his frustration was a useless exercise. He pasted a smile on and faced her. “I seem to have made a friend of young Bertie.”

  “I am glad to hear that.” She laughed. “They will be arriving soon, I am sure.”

  “Who?”

  “The children.” She dimpled as she laughed again. “Oh, Arthur, you are transparent at times. You have been glancing at the door every few seconds. Each time you do and no one is there, your disappointment is all over your face.”

  Had he been eyeing the door that frequently? He had not been aware of that, though he was eager to see the children again.

  And Miss Oliver.

  He ignored that unsettling thought as he had others. It would be easier if the mention of her name, even in his mind, did not bring forth the image of her gentle smile and her bright green eyes. Though she kept her blond hair pulled back, the wisps about her face looked like spun sugar, soft and teasing his fingers to brush them aside.

  “You seem to have taken to the children,” Carrie said, serious once again, “with an alacrity I did not expect. Perhaps I was mistaken in thinking you had no real motivation for getting to know them. I assumed, after she married, your affection for Gwendolyn had cooled.”

  “I have always considered her a dear friend.”

  “I do hope you did not present your proposal to her in that letter you sent off to her this morning.”

  He wagged a finger at his sister. “I listened to all your advice, Carrie.”

  “Good, because I would not wish you to make a muddle of this before it even begins.”

  He chuckled, and he saw her surprise. Had she thought he would be so burdened with pain he would be dreary company? No, he realized with astonishment. His sister did not expect to hear merriment coming from him because he had laughed seldom since the news of Cranny’s death reached Porthlowen.

  As the months passed, his plans to avenge his friend consumed him. He tried to heed his brother’s counsel to accept the words in Romans 12:19. Raymond had even written out the passage on a page Arthur had tossed atop his desk: Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, sayeth the Lord.

  It was impossible to forget Gwendolyn’s face lined with pain and sorrow as she had stood by Cranny’s grave. If there was any way Arthur could help God in this matter, he must.

  Footsteps sounded inside the house, and he sat straighter. He watched the door, wondering which youngster would run out first.

  Two white-haired women emerged. The Winwood twins lived in a simple cottage close to the harbor. They were the eldest residents of Porthlowen, but as spry as people half their age. Neither had ever married, because they had cared for their parents until the twins were deemed long past marriageable age. Whether that determination was made by the bachelors and widowers of Porthlowen, or the Winwoods had made that decision, the two women seemed happy.

  They had identical straight noses and full lips. The only way to tell the two apart was that Miss Hyacinth Winwood always wore a feather or a bit of lace in the same light purple shade as her name. Miss Ivy Winwood never was seen unless she had something dark green with her.

  They smiled broadly as they walked to where Arthur was pushing himself to his feet. He hid his grimace at the pain.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said as Carrie signaled to a footman to bring two more chairs.

  “For you, my lord,” said Miss Hyacinth, the older of the sisters by what was reported to be ten minutes.

  Miss Ivy held out the plate topped by a pile of sugary treats. “You have always been partial to our almond macaroons.”

  He took one, knowing she would not move the plate until he did. Everyone in Porthlowen was aware of how kind the twin sisters were and how stubborn.

  “It is the least we could do for a man who risked himself to save a dear little boy,” Miss Hyacinth said.

  “Such a brave and noble
act.” Miss Ivy refused to let her sister have the last word on any topic.

  “Do sit,” he said, motioning toward the chairs.

  “We will,” Miss Hyacinth replied, “so you will do the same and rest your injured leg.”

  “And you must not come to your feet when we leave.” Miss Ivy gave him a look that could have halted a charging bull.

  Arthur nodded and wondered if the tales he had heard were true. It was whispered in the village that, when the French pirates had tried to break into the Winwood cottage, they were met with cast-iron pans and brooms. Though he doubted the truth of the tale, for his family had learned firsthand how vicious the pirates were, he also knew no damage had been done to the women’s home.

  Miss Hyacinth was not satisfied. “Promise us that you will set your always gracious manners aside this once.”

  “You must promise us.”

  “I promise you, ladies,” he said.

  “Excellent.”

  “Most excellent.”

  Arthur resisted the yearning to shake his head. Listening to the sisters was like watching a game of battledore and shuttlecock, back and forth the words went. Always quick, always insightful. Or so Carrie assured him. He found the two women amusing in their eccentric ways, though no one could question the warmth of their generous hearts.

  He ate the macaroon and listened to Carrie talk with them. The confection was delicious, and he reached for a second one, which set off another round of comments about how nice it was to see a man enjoy sweets as he did.

  The elderly twins paused when childish shouts came from past the far edge of the terrace. The youngsters came bouncing around the corner. Toby, who lived at the parsonage, was among them. He and Bertie were shoving each other playfully as they chased the other children. Giggles and shouts of excitement rose in the afternoon air.

  “Oh, there are the dear babes,” Miss Hyacinth said, jumping to her feet.

  “Aren’t they adorable?” Miss Ivy added.

  “Utterly adorable.”

  “Utterly.”

  Arthur guessed they could go on and on forever without a break, but his ears could use a respite. Hoping they did not consider him rude, he called out, “Miss Oliver, we are over here.” He could not see her around the corner of the terrace; yet he had no doubt she was nearby. She seldom allowed the children out of her sight.

  As if on cue, she ran into the clump of youngsters. She picked up Gil and swung him around. The moment she set him on the ground, little arms reached up as each child begged for a turn.

  She must not have been aware of the group gathered on the terrace, because she laughed, sounding as young and carefree as her charges. Arthur was unable to pull his gaze from her. He watched how the sun glinted off the golden strands peeking from beneath her sedate bonnet. A smile lit her face even more brightly while her simple gown swirled about her ankles. She enjoyed the children’s exhilaration as much as they did.

  “When were you last that untroubled?” asked Carrie softly.

  He discovered his sister’s steady gaze focused on him. “I don’t know.”

  “I thought so. A good father needs to find time with his children.”

  “I know.” He noted the high spirits Miss Oliver evoked in the children and recalled how his own father had played games with his children.

  Knowing what he did now, he was astonished that Father could have carved out the hour or two he spent with each of his children every week. Those hours were among Arthur’s most precious memories. He had forgotten in the midst of his duties, especially in the past year. Until this moment, he had not guessed what his search for the truth was costing him.

  “There is more to that young woman than meets the eye,” Miss Ivy pronounced.

  Miss Hyacinth gawked at her twin, then, recovering herself, nodded.

  Arthur hid his amusement at the older sister’s reaction to her twin speaking first. Miss Ivy usually joined a conversation after she did. Miss Hyacinth acted a bit perturbed at her sister altering the pattern.

  Gil abruptly shouted, “My baby!” He ran toward the terrace.

  Miss Oliver glanced over her shoulder, and color rose on her cheeks, tinting them a pale rose. Her gaze met Arthur’s before she lowered her eyes. She did not look in his direction as she herded the children after Gil. The little boy rushed to stand beside Carrie and gently caressed the baby’s blanket.

  “Good afternoon.” Miss Oliver’s precise, proper tone belied the high spirits she had revealed with the children. “I hope our play did not disturb your conversation.”

  “Not at all,” he assured her.

  “Miss Oliver, you are such a good nurse for these waifs,” Miss Hyacinth said with a broad smile.

  “A very good nurse.” Miss Ivy’s smile was even wider than her sister’s.

  “Thank you.” Miss Oliver seemed unduly interested in the stones of the terrace.

  Bertie was not circumspect. He wrapped one arm around Arthur’s and said, “Arthur, tell Lulu about her name.”

  What had he and Miss Oliver decided to tell the children? He could not recall. Not when thoughts of everything but the pretty nurse had vanished from his mind.

  “Patience, Bertie.” Miss Oliver put her hands on the little boy’s shoulders and said, “Children, please greet Lord Trelawney, Lady Caroline, Miss Winwood and Miss Winwood.”

  The children complied, astounding Arthur. He smiled when Bertie called him by his given name rather than his title, but replied by asking if they were ready for their tea. That brought excited chatter.

  As two benches were brought for the children, Gil pointed to the Winwood twins and giggled. “Boat!”

  “Excuse me?” asked Miss Hyacinth, her eyes narrowing.

  Before her sister could say anything, Miss Oliver answered, “The children sailed their little ships yesterday. It was an exciting day for everyone.”

  “So we heard,” Miss Hyacinth murmured.

  “So we heard,” echoed Miss Ivy.

  Arthur was surprised when the two spinsters rose. He started to set himself on his feet, but paused when he recalled his promise to remain sitting as they took their departure.

  “Thank you for the macaroons,” he said as the sisters excused themselves. “That was kind of you.”

  “Our pleasure,” Miss Hyacinth said.

  “Yes, our pleasure.” With a pat on each child’s head, Miss Ivy followed her sister into the house.

  A hearty tea was served under Baricoat’s watchful eye. The butler checked that there were enough plates and cups and saucers as the footmen carried the trays to the low table set in front of the children. A taller one was brought for the adults.

  Arthur seated his sister where she could manage both eating and holding the baby. He recalled a small wagon his mother had used after his younger sister was born. It could be wheeled anywhere, indoors and out. He wondered if it still was stored in the attic and was usable.

  He leaned on his chair as he waited while Miss Oliver made sure each of the toddlers had food. For once, the youngsters wore serious expressions as they watched her spoon out vegetables and fruit before she set small sandwiches in front of them. He was impressed when the children sat quietly while Miss Oliver said a quick prayer. As soon as she finished, they reached for their plates.

  Miss Oliver’s eyes widened when he gestured for her to join him and Carrie. Her hesitation before she accepted was so slight he doubted he would have noticed if he had not been watching closely. Why was she acting as skittish as a lamb when the wolf was nigh?

  He could not ask that question, so he sat gratefully when she did. Carrie began talking to Miss Oliver about the baby. Maybe he had been imagining the nurse’s hesitation.

  As Arthur served himself some of Mrs. Ford’s fish pie, Bertie’s voice rose above others. “Arthur is really a bear, you know.”

  When Carrie chuckled, the little boy looked discomposed.

  “Bertie is right,” Arthur said. “We talked about it yesterday after
we returned from the shore.”

  Miss Oliver leaned forward and whispered into his sister’s ear. An odd sensation, a feeling he could not name, gripped him. It was far too easy to imagine the pretty blonde’s breath soft and fragrant while she whispered in his ear.

  He took a cup of tea from his sister. He needed to curb his imagination and remember that Miss Oliver was helping him prepare for marriage to Gwendolyn. Nothing more. He had promised to offer for his friend’s widow, and he would not let his words become a lie.

  * * *

  After wiping up the pool of milk from the children’s table, Maris wrung the cloth out over the grass. Lady Caroline had retired to the house for Joy’s afternoon nap. The baby was fussier today than usual, and Maris would not be surprised to feel the hard nub of a tooth beneath Joy’s gums.

  Lord Trelawney remained at the tea table. The children chased each other across the grass and beneath the branches of fruit trees in the orchard beyond the garden.

  “No farther!” she called to the youngsters. “Stay where you can see us.”

  “I am keeping a close eye on them,” the viscount said.

  “You must not allow them to set the boundaries, my lord.” She finished cleaning up the milk and laid the cloth on top of the low table. Straightening, she wiped her hands on her apron. “Children must know and accept the rules established by their elders.”

  He bowed his head toward her. “I leave such issues in your capable hands, Miss Oliver.”

  “Most parents use their own parents’ ways to guide them.” Sitting where she could watch the children, she added, “We learn by example, whether from a book or from life.”

  “You must have given this much thought before you decided on becoming a nurse.”

  “I have learned from the children.” She did not want to speak untruths, so she chose her words with care. “Every child is unique.”