Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,66

glad.” She let his feet go and resumed rubbing them gently. “I’m glad you came back where I can feed you properly and know you’re warm and safe and well fed.”

She did feed him, fed him thick slabs of smoked ham, steaming potatoes seasoned with herbs, cheese, and butter, and crusty slices of bread fresh from the oven. It was the best meal he’d ever eaten, and yet he tasted little of it because he was preoccupied watching her move around the kitchen, tidying up as he demolished his dinner.

And then he followed her down the hallway to where he’d never thought to be again, sprawled on the thick carpet of the servants’ parlor, Kit on all fours between them, rocking and cooing and enjoying the life of a cosseted baby.

“Kit listened to your parting sermon this morning. He was a very good boy today.” She lay on her back, her head turned to watch the baby.

“And he’s thriving in your care. Sophie. You aren’t really going to give him up, are you? If Their Graces were tolerant of the tweenie’s situation, they might make allowances for you.”

He regretted the words, because they opened the door for him to wonder again what exactly her position in the household was. He told himself it didn’t matter—it still didn’t matter—because again, he’d be leaving in the morning.

She curled over on her side, pillowing her cheek on her hand as she gazed at the fire. “Their Graces would indulge me, did I ask it of them, but Kit needs a real family, brothers and sisters, a mama, a papa. I would spoil him shamelessly, and there’s much I do not know about raising a child.”

He gave in to the temptation to touch her, reaching over and smoothing the side of his thumb along her hairline. “You’re a quick study. Every mother and aunt and granny in Town would be happy to help you.” Women were like that. They rallied around babies despite differences in age, class, standing, and even nationality.

She did not react to his caress, not that he could see. “I think the country is a better place to grow up, especially for boys.”

It occurred to him to offer her a place at Sidling. His aunt and uncle were forever grousing about their aging staff, but they refused to pension off the duffers and dodderers on their payroll.

But then he’d never see her, for Sidling was one place he would not frequent if he could help it. Still, the idea was not without merit. It would be better than losing touch with her entirely.

“He’s getting tired.” Sophie spoke quietly as Kit let out a huge yawn, looking like a lion cub on all fours, roaring in sleepy silence.

“Shall we remove upstairs?”

She nodded, and they began the routine of folding up blankets, banking the fire, packing up the baby, and heading for the servants’ stairs. The stairway and corridors were frigid, but Sophie’s room was a cocoon of warmth.

“I let the fire in the other bedroom go out,” she said, waiting for Vim to set the cradle near the hearth before depositing Kit in his bed. “We can get it going again, or you are welcome to stay with me.”

She was fussing the baby in his cradle as she spoke, depriving Vim of the sight of her face. If it was an invitation, it was quite casually offered.

Carefully offered?

He lit the candle near her bed, blew out the taper, and moved to stand next to the cradle.

“I do believe that child is growing so quickly he’ll soon no longer fit in his cradle. We’ll wake to find the thing in pieces on the floor and Kit striding about the room, demanding his breakfast.”

It wasn’t at all what he’d intended say.

He dropped to his haunches and waited until Sophie peered at him. “Sophie Windham, if I share a bed with you ever again, I will make mad, passionate love with you through the night. We’ll neither of us get any rest, though in the morning, I will leave, and I will not come back.” He would want to come back though, and wanting sometimes turned into wishing, and wishing into making it so. Sometimes.

She appeared to consider his words calmly. “Mad, passionate love?”

“With you, dear lady, it could not be otherwise.” He hadn’t meant to say that, either, though it was true.

She sat back on her heels but continued studying the baby as he found two fingers to slip into his rosebud mouth. “I