Page 33 of A Sham Engagement

Footsteps sounded behind him on the stairs. Light, pattering footsteps. He spun on his heel. Edward reached the bottom three steps and jumped, landing with a thud on the rug, which slid forward, depositing him hard on his bottom. An annoyed cry shot out of him. Inside the library, Elenora’s head turned.

Edward scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“What are you doing downstairs?” Jack asked, hurrying over to him. “And where is Miss Douglas?”

Elenora emerged from the library, a book in her hand, a questioning expression on her face.

“She’s marking my Latin translation,” Edward said, his eyes going to Elenora. “If she doesn’t find any mistakes, she’s going to take me to see the cows in Marylebone Park.”

“Hello,” Elenora said, smiling at Edward.

Edward performed a smart bow. “Good afternoon.”

A silence fell. The need to fill it overcame Jack. “This is my ward, Edward Warren. Edward, this is Miss Wetherby.”

Edward’s eyes widened. “Is this the lady you’re going to marry?”

Damn it. How had the child obtained this information. It couldn’t have been via Miss Douglas, who was the soul of discretion. It had to be from Meg, his nursery nurse, a very chatty girl when she wanted to be. She’d probably gleaned this news in the servants’ hall. She would need reprimanding, even though it was now too late. It would have been better had Edward never known about Elenora’s existence. Unfair to get his hopes up of having a stepmother in his life. And the suspicion that Elenora might make a good one was strong.

“Yes, Miss Wetherby is the lady to whom I am engaged. I’m just showing her around the house,” Jack said, not wanting to lie, and hoping Edward wouldn’t slip and call him papa. He didn’t want Elenora knowing his secrets, and Edward was one of them, and he also didn’t want to lie to his son.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, then, Miss Wetherby,” Edward said. “Would you like to come upstairs and see the nursery? I have a lot of really nice toys.” His gaze went to the library. “And books. I spend a lot of time in the library.” He held out a small hand to Elenora. “Do you like books?”

Jack shifted in discomfort. How unfortunate that for once Edward had ventured downstairs in the afternoon when usually he was engaged with his studies in the schoolroom. He should have spoken to Miss Douglas and impressed on her the importance of keeping the child out of the way on this particular afternoon. Too late now. Things could only get more complicated if he insisted on Edward leaving.

Elenora took away his opportunity to do that though. Smiling, she took Edward’s proffered hand. “I should love that, Master Warren. Lord Broxbourne and I are avoiding having to sit in the drawing room with his mother and my aunt, so seeing the nursery would get us well out of their way. Lead on.”

Jack cleared his throat and made a feeble attempt. “I’m sure, Edward, that Miss Wetherby isn’t interested in seeing the nursery. She’s just being polite.”

She shot him an ingenuous smile, which, with what he knew of her, probably was exactly that. “Oh, I’m not. I would love to see Master Warren’s nursery—and his Latin translation.” She regarded Edward. “I had to teach myself Latin, I’m afraid, as my papa wouldn’t allow me to learn it with my brothers. He doesn’t think girls should learn the Classics. But I very much enjoyed the challenge.”

“I’m not very good at it yet,” Edward said, fidgeting a little in embarrassment. “I’ve only been learning it for a year. Just in case you’re expecting my translation to be good.”

The child seemed to have taken to Elenora straightaway, which was only going to make things worse when Jack had to tell him the engagement was over. But there was little he could do to prevent this now. Resigned to his fate, he followed Elenora and Edward up two flights of stairs and into the day nursery.

“These are my soldiers,” Edward announced, indicating two rows lined up facing one another. “Yesterday, they were fighting at Marathon, and before that, Bosworth Field. Today, I think I’d like them to fight the Battle of Hastings.” He picked one up, resplendent in the red coat of a modern warrior. “I just have to imagine them looking like Normans, I suppose. Miss Douglas drew a Norman soldier for me today so I know what to picture inside my head. I’m quite good at that. I’m not so silly as to think soldiers have always looked like they do nowadays.”

Elenora dropped to her knees on the rug like a natural. “How splendid your imagination must be. I love history myself, and have always fancied performing a reenactment, only my brothers, who are older than me, were sadly lacking in any inclination to comply. All they liked to do with their soldiers was use their catapults on them, and see how many they could knock down.”

Edward beamed. “Well, that sounds like fun too. But I love to have battles with mine, and I don’t have a catapult. Miss Douglas says only naughty boys have them.” He paused, as though a thought had struck him. “Were your brothers naughty boys?”

With a delighted laugh, she picked up a soldier. “Quite naughty, I have to admit, and still quite naughty now they’re grown up.” She held out the soldier. “This one could be William. He can’t be called William the Conqueror until he’s beaten the English under Harold, though.”

Edward nodded. “Harold gets shot in the eye with an arrow. I’m afraid my soldiers have muskets so I have to imagine they’re archers. Miss Douglas says imagination is very important.” He paused. “Do you want to help me fight the battle?” A little blush colored his cheeks. “I was thinking that rug over there could be Senlac Hill. So I’m trying hard to be accurate. Papa says accuracy is of the most important with all things historical.”

And there it was. Betrayed out of the mouth of a child.

Elenora looked up at Jack from her position on the floor, a puzzled frown for a moment marring her looks, then she turned back to Edward, no doubt weighing up how closely they resembled one another. She gave a shrug, as though it didn’t matter. “I should love to help you fight a battle. Which side would you like to be?”

Jack leaned against the door. What was she thinking now Edward had given him away? Had that shrug been her dismissing the import of his son’s words? Did she not care? Was she now wondering if he’d been married before? For a girl normally so outspoken, she remained surprisingly silent. Although not with Edward. Shortly the two of them were carrying on a noisy battle on the nursery rug, with soldiers falling like ninepins and loud noises of somewhat inaccurate explosions. “No cannon in 1066,” Elenora shouted above Edward’s battle noises.

“What noise do arrows make then?” Edward asked, as his one mounted soldier took out a row of foot soldiers. “King Harold is going to win this time.”

The battle was nearly over when the door opened and Miss Douglas, a woman of dour middle-age, whose severe visage concealed a far gentler heart than could have been expected, came in. “My lord.” She bobbed a curtsy. “Ma’am.”

Elenora got to her feet and held out her hand, as though playing with Edward had loosened her tongue entirely. “Elenora Wetherby. You must be the famous Miss Douglas, and I see you have Edward’s translation. Did he do well enough to merit his trip to see the cows?”

Miss Douglas’s stern expression softened. “He did indeed. And if we are to get there and back before dark, we need to go now. If that is convenient, my lord?”