‘Your letter did indicate the nature of the illness. It was what made Lord Coltonby adamant. I know how to run a sick room, quite probably better than your sister.’
‘An unusual accomplishment. I would have considered dancing lessons or water colours to be more your forte.’
‘My father was a viscount, and my mother the daughter of a baronet, but that does not preclude me being able to nurse.’ Her chin angled higher and her tone became more clipped. ‘One does what one must and I need to support my family, regardless of my parentage.’ Her mouth became thin, but her gaze did not waver. Simon felt a glimmer of respect rise within him. Angrily he dampened it down. ‘My stepbrother James requires a commission in the army. I happened to be at Coltonby House, seeking advice, shortly after your letter arrived. It seemed the best way. Lord Coltonby will help my brother and I will assist you. One cannot accept charity, Mr Clare.’
‘And why does your family not assist your stepbrother? Surely you have male relations capable of the task. Why does he seek to hide behind petticoats?’
Simon was gratified to see Miss Benedict glance down at the floor. Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks and for the first time in their encounter her poise appeared shaken. She rapidly recovered.
‘My eldest brother died a year ago. His carriage turned over on the way to visit me. There is no one else, no one else who cares.’ She plucked at the lace on her collar. ‘He left a wife and a son who will never know his father. It is my sister-in-law Sophia who is head of the family now, and she…she has other concerns.’
Simon pursed his lips. The undercurrent to her words was obvious. The sister-in-law had quite rightly decided to stop the allowance of some feckless aristocrat. It was admirable in a way that Miss Benedict wanted to help her brother. But he doubted that she was the right person for Robert. Even Robert’s current nurse had problems and she had arrived with a string of recommendations and references. All he had to do was find the right words to refuse Miss Benedict’s assistance.
Just then an earsplitting yowl emanated from the basket as it rocked on the woman’s arm. She immediately started to make cooing noises to whatever creature lay under the cloth and the din subsided.
‘What in the name of all that is holy is that?’
‘A cat.’ Her cheeks had the grace to develop a slight pink tinge. ‘Little more than a kitten, actually. I discovered him at our stop near Catterick. The poor thing was mewling its head off beside its mother. The innkeeper wanted to drown him.’
‘And you decided to save its life. How saintly.’ Simon stared at the basket. ‘What are you planning on doing with this cat?’
‘All the kitten wants is a bit of milk and a warm corner in which to sleep.’ Her voice was low and she appeared to be talking to his boots. ‘A chance to live.’
‘Are you prone to picking up stray animals that happen across your path, Miss Benedict?’ Simon raised one eyebrow, intrigued. She knew he was about to dismiss her and she was trying to distract him.
‘I will let you know when I discover the next animal in dire need.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘Surely your heart has been touched by this animal’s plight, and you will not refuse him shelter.’
‘It has been claimed that I have no heart.’
‘Having met your sister, I find that impossible.’
Simon gritted his teeth. He would allow Miss Benedict to stay the night, but in the morning, she would have to go. Back to Coltonby with a warning—he had managed thus far on his own and did not need to depend on the kindness of strangers. There would be no need to trouble Robert.
‘Master, Master!’ The upstairs maid’s frightened voice echoed from the hallway, interrupting him. ‘It has started again! Worse than ever. Mrs Smith says to come quickly.’
‘Stop that unholy racket!’ Simon thundered, ignoring Miss Benedict’s questioning glance, and the maid’s wails ceased. Simon tilted his head as a better solution occurred to him. If Miss Benedict saw Robert in this state he had little doubt that she would flee on the first coach, cat and all.
‘I am sorry, truly I am, but young Master Robert is being impossible. He has heard the carriage and swears that it will be her ladyship.’ The maid had burst into the room without knocking. ‘And now Jenkins has told Mrs Smith that Miss Diana is not here after all. And the nurse refuses to go back in. Not after what he did to her the last time. He is the very devil incarnate. Mrs Smith says that I must come and fetch you. I am not to take no for an answer. You must see your son.’
Simon raised his eyes to the ceiling. The day had descended from awful to disastrous. There was no telling what measures would be required to restrain the boy.
‘Mr Clare, are you going to introduce me to your son?’ Miss Benedict stood there, her face composed and her shoulders relaxed. ‘I believe he is awake. He will want to know that his aunt is well.’
Simon felt an overwhelming urge to join Robert in screaming. Miss Benedict was standing there, so calm, so smug, so certain that she could control Robert. Last time it had taken two footmen and the nurse to get the laudanum down his throat, and even then one of the footmen had ended up with a black eye.
Miss Benedict wished to meet Robert? Very well. Let her. Let Coltonby’s saviour fall at the first hurdle. He doubted that she would last five minutes before she began bleating for the coach. He would delight in writing to Coltonby and explaining the spinelessness of his cousin.
‘Miss Benedict, you may accompany me to the sickroom. Robert has set his heart on his aunt returning.’
‘But what is it that you want me to do?’ She crossed her arms. ‘I have never met the boy.’
‘You are my sister’s emissary. It falls to you to explain why she has declined to return.’ Simon bit out each word.
‘To me?’ Miss Benedict had the grace to look wary. ‘But surely the explanation should come from you, as his parent. I will wait here.’
‘No, from you.’ Simon glared at the woman—in his mind, he consigned her to a dark place. ‘You can explain to the boy why the one person in the whole world that he wants to see is not coming. We will deal with your cat later. I do hope you have a strong constitution, Miss Benedict.’
Chapter Two
The heart-rending wails hit Phoebe as she mounted the stairs—pitiful wails to make any adult wince with pity, pleas for his aunt to come upstairs. But with each new piercing sound, Simon Clare’s face became more stonily resolute and the maid only appeared concerned that her evening had been interrupted.
‘Who is Mrs Smith?’ Phoebe asked.
‘Robert’s nurse.’ Mr Clare stopped and a wry smile crossed his face. ‘Surely you do not expect me to leave Robert under the care of a scullery maid, or perhaps lying on his own, unattended? Mrs Smith came highly recommended from Lady Bolt. She has excellent references. But Robert wants his aunt.’
Excellent references. Phoebe’s heart sank. Had she entirely misjudged the situation? She had been positive that his letter had asked for a nurse. ‘It would appear that I have made a mistake.’
‘It would appear to be the case, Miss Benedict. And you may explain the situation to Robert.’
Another loud, long echoing plea issued from the room. Phoebe’s heart squeezed.