Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,17
straight up over his chest. The child squealed with delight, paddling the air with both arms and legs.
“All of Kit’s dresses and socks and little blankets were in a tidy pile on her bed. She meant to leave him.”
He knew better. He should have pretended to be absorbed in the child’s play, but he could hear something in Sophie’s voice that had him bringing the baby down to his chest and regarding Sophie where she lay a couple of feet away.
“This upsets you.”
She nodded, eyes still closed. While Vim watched, a single tear leaked from the corner of her eye and made a silvery track into the dark hair at her temple.
“Sophie, do you cry for the child or for the mother?”
“I never cry.”
If he weren’t lying nearly beside her, he might have believed all the starch in her voice despite the evidence of his eyes. He secured the baby to his chest with one hand and reached over with the other, brushing the back of one finger from the corner of her eye to her temple. “Never?”
She turned her head toward him so his hand ended up trapped under her cheek. He did not retrieve it.
“I’m in charge of strays.” She spoke evenly, the tears still kept sternly from her voice. “All of my life, I was the one who could be counted on to nurse a rejected lamb, to find a litter to accept an orphaned kitten. Joleen went astray, so she became my charge to deal with. She should not have left Kit this way.”
“Maybe she should not have had Kit, and this was the only way she could cope. How old was she?”
“Sixteen.”
“Old enough to know better, Sophie.” He ran his thumb over the smooth skin of her cheekbone and withdrew his hand. The gesture had been meant to comfort her; it had in fact comforted him.
“Take the baby.” He lifted Kit high again. “He’s in fine fettle, ready to conquer the world.”
She glanced at Vim as if she suspected his suggestion was a tactic, which it was, but she took the child and cradled him on her sternum. “He is quite stout, isn’t he?”
“He’s just right for a man of his years, or months.”
“And what shall I do with him now that I have him?”
“That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?” Vim lay on his side, his head propped on a fist braced by his elbow. “You see the uncertainty Joleen introduced into his life with her decision, and responsibility for this stray is daunting.”
She lifted the baby up, touched noses with him, and set the child back on her middle. “Daunting about sums it up. He could crawl into the fire, take a chill, pull the bookends down on himself… all in the space of moments. His life should last decades, but only if I can keep him safe and teach him how to go on.”
“You could foster him.” Vim watched as Sophie stroked a finger down the baby’s cheek. The child turned to investigate the sensation while Sophie repeated the caress on the other cheek.
“I should foster him. I should find some nice lady with an infant of her own and pay handsomely for Kit to have lots of love and attention, other children to play with…” She closed her eyes again, a gesture Vim realized was Sophie’s way of composing herself.
“Sophie, he’s old enough to be weaned, if needs must.”
“Is he? I don’t even know when that would be. I’ve seen children larger than Vim still…” She fell silent and blinked at the baby.
“At the breast.” Vim finished the thought for her.
“I was going to say dependent on their mothers. Nanny Fran said Joleen never had much milk. She said the girl was too fretful to nurse properly.”
“I suppose that’s possible. A fretful mare sometimes lacks enough for her foal. Kit looks healthy nonetheless.”
“He does.” She frowned at the child and tried lifting him up over her chest. When she had him positioned on straight arms above her, he started wiggling and paddling again. A slight smile bloomed on Sophie’s mouth, just as the child emitted a particular… sound.
“Oh, dear.” She lowered him gingerly. “I believe it’s time I learned to change a nappy myself.”
“Have we a clean supply?”
“In the laundry. I can get…” She started to rise, but Vim put a hand on her shoulder as he shifted to a crouch.
“You stay. I’ll fetch the goods.” He didn’t give her time to argue, but rather was out the door in no time,