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Chapter Eleven

 

The day promised to be bright and beautiful the morning Justin began his campaign to win over the young Master Thomas. His mind was occupied with possible things to say, suggestions for activities they could share, answers to questions that may be asked of him. It was a dreadfully taxing business, this. The happiness of his fiancée rested on his ability to bond with her child. It therefore meant a great deal to him.

He intended to give the boy an active and prominent role in the wedding, but that plan would only succeed if the child was willing. To that aim he intended to make a nuisance of himself until they were friends. Of course, the emotions behind the plan were nowise near as simple as that.

He was nervous such as he had never been. Standing before the mirror that morning, he had rejected several cravats and coats, trying to picture himself through a five‑year‑old child’s eyes. Would Sophie’s son find him distant and hard to approach, as some adults did? Would Thomas resent him for winning some of his mother’s affection?

Filled with concerns and doubts, Justin took a deep, fortifying breath as the golden‑bricked manor house came into view. Despite his mental preparations, he felt in need of a stiff drink by the time he reached the end of the front drive.

He dismounted and handed the reins to the waiting groomsman. Then he took the steps to the front door two at a time. Before he could knock, the portal swung open and Sophie was launching herself into his arms. His heart stuttered at the feel of her and he crushed her close.

“My lord,” she greeted, lifting to her toes and kissing him full on the mouth.

“Stop that,” he admonished, glancing nervously over her head. “What if he sees you?”

“My darling.” Her eyes sparkled. “How I love you. Thomas is in the nursery and cannot witness my affection.”

“You might be surprised. When I was his age, I was never where anyone would expect.”

Common courtesy dictated that they share tea with the countess first and so they did, both of them enjoying the obvious happiness Lady Cardington felt over their union.

And then it was time.

With her fingers linked with his, Sophie led him up to the nursery on the upper floor.

“Ready?” she asked when they reached the closed door.

“Yes.” As he would ever be.

She pushed the portal open and entered. “Tommy,” she called, her voice pitched sweetly.

“Hmm?”

The distracted sounding reply made Justin smile. He stepped into the sunshine‑filled room and found the source of his anxiousness seated innocuously on an English rug surrounded by a legion of tin soldiers. Nearby, on the window bench, a governess knitted quietly.

“I would like you to meet someone,” Sophie said, sinking to a crouch.

The small, dark head lifted, revealing handsome features and big brown eyes. Justin tensed as Thomas turned his head and found him, steeling himself for an unknown reaction.

Sophie made the introductions.

“Hello, Master Thomas,” Justin said carefully.



“Hello, my lord.” The boy’s inquisitive gaze dropped to the marquess’s riding boots. He frowned, then looked back at his toys.

Justin thought he had been summarily dismissed, which tied his stomach in knots, then Thomas picked up a soldier and held it out to him. “This one has boots like yours.”

“Oh?” Bending at the knees, Justin accepted the offering and remarked, “So he does. How lucky I am to have such boots.”

Thomas smiled. The gesture was Sophie’s in miniature, and Justin’s chest tightened. He sank the rest of the way to the floor.

“You can play with the red ones,” Thomas said magnanimously. “I shall be blue.”

“Thank you. I should like that very much.” Justin glanced at Sophie. She blew him a kiss that went straight to his heart, then rose and moved to the bookcase.

“Shall I read you both a story?” she asked, in a voice huskier than usual.

“Yes! The fables.” Thomas glanced at him. “You do enjoy fables, don’t you, my lord?”

“I do.”

The child beamed. “Excellent.”

And so it was a beginning. Auspicious, to be sure.

 


Date: 2015-04-20; view: 614


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