Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,11

during his father’s last months. How he envied the Milnes for having been here with his father during that time. If only he had known his father hadn’t long to live. If only he’d been able to be with him at the end.

His regrets had nothing to do with the loss of Darnley. He would have given away every Paxton property for the chance to have shared those last months with his remarkable father.

“Do you ever play cribbage with your mother?” he asked Stevie.

“My mother loves to play. She’s as good as the old lord.”

“Did he teach her, too?”

“No. She’s always been good at games. She’s teaching me to play chess.”

“And are you good at that?”

The boy shook his head. “It confuses my head sometimes. Too many…options. Did I say that right?”

“You did indeed.” The boy seemed in many ways older than his years. David spent a good bit of time with young fatherless boys he and his friends were teaching to play cricket, but none seemed quite as intelligent as Stevie. David wondered if his intellect came from his father or his mother.

By the time they finished the game—which David won, even though he tried not to—Mrs. Milne said she thought it had likely warmed sufficiently for them to go outdoors. “It appears the sun is shining again today.”

As he and Stevie were leaving the drawing room, something compelled David to turn around. “Would you like to accompany us, Mrs. Milne? You can stay in the curricle while we men do all the work.” He winked.

She favored him with a beaming smile. “How thoughtful of you to ask. I should love to.”

David marched across the chamber and scooped her into his arms.

“Oh, please, my lord, you don’t have to carry me. I’m sure I can manage with my cane.”

“I’ll not be responsible for you falling on the uneven terrain. Besides, you’re as light as a feather.”

Stevie laughed. “You look like a knight of yore carrying a maiden.”

“My son is fascinated with Arthurian legends.”

“Just one more thing Stevie and I have in common. It was the same with me when I was his age—if not a bit older. Stevie does seem to be advanced for his age.”

“How kind of you to say so. I’m most gratified that he enjoys reading and learning.” Her shoulders sank. “I wish my Papa were alive. He could have tutored my son with great proficiency.”

“He was a don?” He began to descend the stairs.

She shook her head. “No. He was a modest curate, but a scholar of some repute. He translated some minor Greek works and supplemented his ecclesiastic income by tutoring lads going off to Eton and Oxford—where he’d been a scholarship student before he married and started his large brood.”

So intelligence came naturally to her. As did humility. Unlike many women he knew who gave themselves airs, she was not ashamed to admit to a modest background and lack of wealth.

“The curate near Tonton Abbey is the one who tutored me,” he said. “He was more brilliant than any of the scholars I dealt with at Oxford.”

“Have you ever told him?” she asked.

“I don’t suppose I have.”

“Don’t ever delay with praise. It would mean a great deal to him to hear it. Praise is more valued than jewels.”

He looked at her hands and her neck. She wore not a single jewel. David reached the dimly lit entry hall and nodded to Ballard.

Beaming at the earl who was carrying their new mistress, Ballard opened the front door.

Before they left the house, she asked, “Would you mind terribly if we stop off at Mr. Knight’s cottage? It would cheer him so if we could just stop by for a few minutes. He is now mostly bedridden.”

“Of course we can visit him.”

“Good. Mrs. Ballard, kind soul that she is, will spare us a fresh loaf of bread to take to him.” She addressed her son. “Stevie?”

“Yes?”

“Be an angel and run to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Ballard for a loaf of bread for Mr. Knight.”

What could she possibly have to gain by buttering up an old man who was possibly dying? The old fellow didn’t even own the cottage in which he lived.

Good lord! Could David have been misjudging her all along?

He would have to see.

Chapter Five

Though the seat on his lordship’s curricle was only meant to accommodate two, Stevie sat partially on Mary’s lap for the short journey. The seating arrangement somewhat necessitated that she squeeze next to his lordship.

To deny her enjoyment of the