The children lagged behind, and he looked back. His eyes widened when he saw her following. He halted to allow her and the children to catch up with him.
“Yes?” he asked when she reached where he stood.
Sophia bit back her sharp retort. He did not need to act like a martinet again now that the children had been found. When his gaze shifted, she realized he was embarrassed that she had witnessed his raw emotions earlier.
He was hiding something, something more than grief at his wife’s passing. She was as sure of that as she was of her name. For a moment when he’d rushed up to her in the hallway, his eyes had been wild with fear. A fear that far surpassed what a father should feel when his children wandered away in an unfamiliar house.
She could not ask him about it. His cool demeanor prevented that, but she could pray that he would be able to come to terms with that fear and whatever else he was hiding.
“Miss Meriweather, did you have something you wished to say to me?” the earl asked impatiently.
“Yes.” She watched the children’s faces alter from unhappiness to tentative smiles when she said, “I do hope you will allow Gemma and Michael to pay a call on my mother each day during your stay at Meriweather Hall. I can see that they have brought a happiness to her that has been lost. Thank you.” She locked her fingers together in front of her because her hands suddenly seemed awkward. She must not reach out to place a hand on his arm to express her gratitude as she might have with her sister or mother.
“I am glad she sees their exuberance as a blessing rather than as a burden.”
“Is that how you see it?” she asked, shocked.
His brows lowered in a familiar scowl. “No. Don’t be absurd. They are no burden for me. I am pleased to have them with me.”
“I am glad.” She was proud she had not let his frown overmaster her again. “Mother has asked that I offer to help you with the children while you are guests at Meriweather Hall.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know, but my mother believes that one’s Christian duty should be acted upon, not merely spoken of.”
“That is an excellent way to live one’s life.”
Sophia met his eyes steadily. “And do you live your life to that Christian ideal, too, my lord?”
“I try. I may not always succeed, but I do try.” He looked past her as one of the upper maids came around a corner. He motioned for her to come over to them. “Please escort the children to my rooms...”
“Mary,” Sophia supplied in a near whisper.
As if she had not spoken, Lord Northbridge continued, “And I would appreciate if you would wait there with them until I return, Mary.”
She curtsied. “Of course, m’lord.”
He bent toward the children. “Go with Mary. There are some cakes on the tea tray, but have a sandwich first. Remember to walk. No running.”
“Running is better suited for the shore.” Sophia was rewarded by wide grins from the two children.
“At the sea?” asked Michael as he rocked from one foot to the other in excitement. “Will you take us there, Sophia?”
“Miss Meriweather,” his father corrected.
“Will you?” the little boy asked again.
Sophia hesitated, looking from Michael to Lord Northbridge.
The earl asked, “Miss Meriweather, may I have a word with you?” Not giving her a chance to answer, he added, “Gemma, make sure your brother heeds Mary.”
“But Miss Meriweather didn’t say if we were going to the sea,” Gemma protested.
With a glower in Sophia’s direction that suggested she had caused the whole of this on purpose, Lord Northbridge said, “Right now, I need to speak with Miss Meriweather. We will discuss tomorrow’s plans later, children. Please go with Mary.”
Gemma and Michael exchanged a glance as they had in Sophia’s mother’s room, then walked away, every step radiating with fury. Michael looked back, and Sophia gave him a bolstering smile. How sad that the children deflated like balloons whenever their father spoke to them! He was a daunting man, but he must love the children dearly if he had brought them north with him so they could have time together.
And how could she forget his raw fear for them when he discovered they were missing? He loved his children. She knew that, but she wondered if they did.
Sophia wiped her face clean of any expression when Lord Northbridge asked, “Is there a place where we might talk?”
“Yes.” She understood what he sought. A place where they could speak without being overheard, but where they could be seen so there was no suggestion of impropriety. “There is an alcove at the end of this corridor by the window that overlooks the front garden.”
“Excellent.” He offered his arm.
Sophia put her hand on his sleeve and hoped he did not feel her trembling. The powerful muscles beneath her fingers contracted, and she thought he was going to pull away. Then they relaxed, and his stern face did, too, as they continued along the hallway toward the front of the house.
Her gaze traced his straight jaw. It was shadowed by a low mat of a day’s whiskers. None grew around the scar along the side of his face. His hair was in need of a cut, for it dropped over his high collar. His clothing had been made by a skilled tailor. The coat did not pull at his shoulders, and his waistcoat fit well against his chest. There was nothing foppish about the way he tied his cravat. He was no dandy. She looked higher at his firm chin and his expressive mouth. He was a man of rapidly changing moods. She already had seen that in the short time he had been at Meriweather Hall.
When Lord Northbridge stopped, Sophia blinked. She had been lost within her appraisal and was astonished that they had reached the large Palladian window at the corridor’s end. A tufted bench was set on one side of the window next to a mahogany longcase clock. The soft ticking of its pendulum matched the splatter of rain against the glass.
“I appreciate the offer extended by you and Lady Meriweather,” the earl said, “but I do not want to add to your other duties by putting two rambunctious youngsters in your care.”
“They have been kept closed up in your carriage during the trip north and now within the house because of the storm.” As if to stress her words, the wind threw rain against the window. “Tomorrow, when the clouds have blown out to sea, I can give your children a tour of the grounds. There are many things that they will find interesting.”
“You don’t need to go to that trouble.”
“It is no trouble, and I had already planned to offer the same tour to C-c-cousin Edmund.” She hated how she tripped over her cousin’s name.
“Miss Meriweather,” the earl said, “please do not misconstrue what I am about to say. God has blessed me with two children, and they are a gift I never want to take for granted. I would like to be the one to show them the shore. I have not been able to spend the time I wished with them during the past few years, and I would like to make up for lost time.”
She was taken aback by his words for a moment. Then understanding flooded her. Cousin Edmund had mentioned that the three men had been on the Continent together. They must have been fighting the French, a task that would have kept Lord Northbridge far from his family.
“Will you rethink having us open the nursery?” she asked. “Up there, they can run around and play under watchful eyes. They will not be confined within your rooms, and you can spend as much time with them as you wish.”
He considered her suggestion, and she wished Gemma and Michael could understand