‘What the devil are you talking about?’
‘I am talking about a four-year-old boy trapped for days on end in a carriage with three adults, all in various states of ill humour. Jamie’s only sin is that, unlike some of us, he has not yet learnt to mask his ill humour. Having often travelled with a herd of ill-behaved children in carriages, I can assure you Jamie’s brand of tantrums would have gone utterly unnoticed in the Uxmore carriage over a mere hour’s journey. So perhaps if we filled the carriage with other children, Jamie’s behaviour might not appear so offensive to you. Goodnight, Your Grace.’
She didn’t wait for him to respond, but left the parlour. Running away before he could counter-attack was cowardly, but she, too, was tired and blue-devilled, and her arm was still pulsing from the warmth of his hand.
* * *
Benneit remained at the table, his mind searching for an appropriate response to Mrs Langdale’s lecture. He should at least have told her that it was inconceivably annoying how people who had no children always held such firm opinions about how to raise them.
Devil take the woman.
The silence from Jamie’s room was deafening and for a moment Benneit was struck with the horrid thought that Jamie had climbed out the window and disappeared. His heart squeezed and kicked as he stood and went to the door. It was ridiculous. Jamie was only four years old and, though he did sometimes wander off, he had never done anything truly dangerous.
Four years old. Almost five now.
Still only a whisper away from a babe, but already with a mind as sharp as a boy’s. He could see sometimes how confused that made Jamie, that internal struggle to place himself on either side. He thought himself a little man, ready to explore the world.
Jamie did need children about him to remind him he was only a boy.
Not hired children, blast and double-blast Joane Langdale. She had the uncanny ability to confound, embarrass and surprise him, all within the passing of an hour. She had surprised and touched him with that show of childlike passion about the mountains and he had felt quite in charity with her despite the difficult dinner. Perhaps that was why he had forgotten himself and... What had he been thinking to grab her arm like that? Certainly he should not have sat there holding her as if it was quite normal. It had been far too...intimate. Strangely, it had felt right. As if they truly were facing the conundrum of Jamie together.
It was not smart to depend on her on that front. Jamie was his to raise and soon Tessa McCrieff would be standing by his side, to help and to support.
Benneit tried to impose Tessa McCrieff’s image over that of Joane Langdale’s slim pixie figure but his mind was probably tired because the image remained stubbornly elusive. He shoved those empty thoughts away and entered the small room, sitting cautiously on the bed next to the mound under the blanket.
‘I didn’t mean to break it.’ The words were hardly audible through the wool.
‘I know, Jamie.’
‘Will they be cross with us?’
‘Maybe a little, but if we tell them we are sorry, I think they will forgive us. Do you know, I read somewhere that in Ancient Greece breaking plates was a good thing?’
The blanket eased back a little.
‘It is?’
‘That was how people showed they were wealthy—by breaking plates after a banquet.’
Jamie looked around the small room with its low roof.
‘I don’t think the people here are wealthy like those Greeks.’
‘Probably not. Which is why we will pay for that plate.’
Jamie turned over towards Benneit.
‘I have the coin I found on the beach. I can give them that.’
‘I think you should keep that. You might need it for when you break something really large.’
Jamie giggled, but then the smile dimmed again.
‘I wish we were home already, Papa.’
‘I know, Jamie. Just a few more days. You’ve been a brave lad.’
‘You’re not angry?’
‘No, Son. We’re all tired and we do foolish things when we are.’
‘You growl when you’re tired.’
‘So I do. I’m sorry I growled at you.’
‘I’m sorry, too, Papa. I promise I won’t throw things again. Or growl.’
‘Don’t promise, Jamie. We might need you to growl at a monster to send him running. If you promise, then where will we be?’
‘In a monster’s belly.’ Jamie’s chuckle became a yawn and he turned over with a sigh. Benneit looked at the soft rise of his son’s cheek, the dark feathering of his eyelashes. He looked more like a grown boy with each day. He could hardly remember the baby Jamie. Would this image, too, fade in a few years? It was hard to believe that possible, but it probably would. He didn’t want that to happen. Peculiarly enough, he wanted to remain precisely at this moment. There was a clarity to it. His father was gone, Bella was gone. It was only Jamie and him now. He could live with that.
‘Sleep well, Son.’
Nurse Moody was waiting in the parlour and he stood aside to allow her entry to Jamie’s room. The door leading to the other small bedroom where Mrs Langdale was to stay was still open and the room empty.
‘Where is Mrs Langdale?’ he asked Moody as she passed and she stopped.
‘Outside. Said something about putting the mountains to bed.’
‘To what?’
‘To bed. Angus went after her. Goodnight, Your Grace.’
She closed the door and Benneit remained immobile for a moment. One door away there was a lovely fire crackling in his bedroom and a well-aired bed.
Blast the woman.
It was dark outside and he frowned, trying to make out the shapes across the courtyard. The distinctive scent of Angus’s pipe guided him towards a row of trees that lined the stream and Angus turned at his approach, removed his pipe and raised his finger to his lips before pointing it in the direction of the water. On a large boulder by the water’s edge, Benneit made out the line of a hooded figure, the sliver of a moon giving its contours a faint glow.
‘I’ll see she comes inside safe and all,’ Angus murmured, his voice a low grumble beneath the sound of the water.
‘What the devil is she doing?’
‘Come to see the mountains, she said.’
Benneit shook his head and followed the path down to the stream. With all due respect to Angus, he was not comfortable with a woman under his protection standing outside in the pitch black. It was not precisely the proper behaviour of a dowdy widow or even the temporary companion to a future Duke. He stopped at the foot of the boulder.
‘What are you doing? Come inside.’
She shook her head, but he was not certain she had heard him.
‘The mountains are even more amazing at night. No wonder people imagine they are populated by all manner of beasts.’
‘Not just imagine. Now come down from there before you go headlong into the water. It is freezing and I am da—dashed if I’m going to fish you out.’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’
The reply was calm and matter of fact and devastating. It was not an accusation, but a statement of fact.
I wouldn’t expect you to.
He suppressed