Once and Always
Page 31
“In that case, Victoria and Caroline should get on famously,” Jason said dryly.
“You’re taking quite an interest in her,” Robert said, eyeing him closely.
“Only as a reluctant guardian.”
Outside the study door, Victoria straightened the skirts of her apple green muslin gown, knocked softly and then went in. Jason was seated behind his desk in a high-backed, leather-upholstered chair, talking to a man in his early thirties. When they saw her, both men stopped talking and arose in precise, if accidental, unison—a simple movement that seemed to emphasize the similarities between them. Like Jason, the earl was tall and handsome and athletically built, but his hair was sandy and his eyes were a warm brown. He had that same aura of calm authority Jason had, but he was less frightening. Humor lurked in his eyes and his smile was friendly rather than sardonic. Still, he did not look like a man one would wish to have as an enemy.
“Forgive me for staring,” Victoria said softly when Jason had finished making the introductions. “But when I first saw you standing together, I thought I saw a similarity between you.”
“I’m certain you meant that as a compliment, my lady,” Robert Collingwood said, grinning.
“No,” Jason joked, “she didn’t.”
Victoria thought frantically for some suitable reply and could find none, but she was spared further embarrassment by the earl, who shot an indignant look at Jason and said, “What possible answer can Miss Seaton make to that?”
Victoria didn’t hear Jason’s reply because her attention was diverted by another occupant of the room—an adorable little boy of about three who was standing beside the earl, staring at her in mute fascination, a forgotten sailboat clutched in his sturdy arms. With his curly, sandy hair and brown eyes, he was a miniature replica of his father, right down to the identical tan riding breeches, brown leather boots, and tan jacket he was wearing. Utterly captivated, Victoria smiled at him. “I don’t believe anyone has introduced us ...” she hinted.
“Forgive me,” the earl said with smiling gravity. “Lady Victoria, permit me to make known to you my son, John.”
The little boy put his boat down on the chair behind him and executed a solemn, adorable bow. Victoria responded by sinking into a deep curtsy, which startled a childish giggle from him. Then he pointed a chubby finger at her hair and glanced at his father. “Red?” he uttered with childish delight.
“Yes,” Robert agreed.
The child beamed. “Pretty,” he whispered, which wrung a laugh from his father.
“John, you are entirely too young to try your hand at charming the ladies,” said Collingwood.
“Oh, but I’m not a lady,” Victoria said, her heart going out to the enchanting little boy. Jauntily she told him, “I am a sailor!” He looked so dubious that Victoria added, “Oh, but I am—and a prodigiously good one, too. My Mend Andrew and I used to build boats and sail them all the time with the rest of the children—although our boats weren’t nearly as grand as yours. Shall we take yours down to the creek?”
He nodded and Victoria looked to his father for permission. “I’ll take excellent care of him,” she promised. “And the ship, of course.”
When the earl consented, John put his hand in Victoria’s and they trooped out of the study.
“She obviously likes children,” Robert observed as the two adventurers left.
“She’s scarcely more than a child herself,” Jason said dismissively.
The earl turned his head and glanced at the alluring young woman walking through the foyer. Returning his gaze to Jason’s, he lifted his brows in amused contradiction, but he said nothing.
Victoria spent the better part of an hour sitting on a blanket on the bank of the creek that carved a picturesque path through the sweeping front lawns. Sun bathed her face and warmed her limbs as she sat beside John inventing stories about pirates and storms that supposedly plagued her ship during the crossing from America. John listened, enraptured, clutching the long length of fishing line Victoria had got from Northrup and attached to the ship. When he grew bored with the tame sailing afforded his small vessel here in the shallows, she took the line from him and they walked along, Victoria guiding the vessel downstream to where the creek became very deep and raced beneath a wide, graceful stone bridge, its waters churned by a fallen tree. “Here,” she said, handing him the fishing line again. “Don’t let go, or we’ll run aground on that snarled tree down there.”
“I won’t,” he promised, smiling as his three-masted ship bobbed and dipped in the swirling water.
Victoria wandered down the steep bank and was happily gathering a bouquet of the pink, blue, and white wild flowers that carpeted the incline when John shrieked and went bounding awkwardly after the line that had obviously pulled free of his grasp. “Stay there!” she called urgently, and ran to him.
Trying manfully not to cry, he pointed to the little ship, which was now gliding straight into the limbs of the fallen tree beneath the bridge. “It’s gone,” he whispered chokily as two tears welled in his brown eyes. “Uncle George made it for me. He’ll be sad.”
Victoria bit her lip, hesitating. Although the water was obviously deep and running fast here, she and Andrew had both rescued their own ships from the far more perilous river where they had always sailed them. She raised her head and scanned the steep bank, making certain they were downhill, well out of sight of the house and everyone in it; then she made her decision.
“It’s not gone, it’s just run aground on a reef,” she said lightly, hugging him. “I’ll get it.” She was already stripping off her sandals, stockings, and the new green muslin gown Jason had provided for her. “Sit here,” she said, “and I’ll get it.”
Clad only in her chemise and light petticoat, Victoria waded into the creek until the bottom fell away beneath her feet, then struck out with long, expert strokes for the far end of the tree. Beneath the bridge the water was icy and deep as it tumbled and churned around the branches, but she had no trouble locating the little craft. She had considerable trouble, however, freeing the strong fishing line from the branches. She dove under twice, to the delighted glee of little John, who had apparently never seen anyone swim or dive before. Despite the cold water and her sodden petticoats, the swim was invigorating, and Victoria reveled in the freedom of it. “I’ll get the ship loose this time,” she called to John, waving. Watching to make certain the child wasn’t going to try to come in after her, she yelled, “Stay right there, I don’t need any help.”
“You’re taking quite an interest in her,” Robert said, eyeing him closely.
“Only as a reluctant guardian.”
Outside the study door, Victoria straightened the skirts of her apple green muslin gown, knocked softly and then went in. Jason was seated behind his desk in a high-backed, leather-upholstered chair, talking to a man in his early thirties. When they saw her, both men stopped talking and arose in precise, if accidental, unison—a simple movement that seemed to emphasize the similarities between them. Like Jason, the earl was tall and handsome and athletically built, but his hair was sandy and his eyes were a warm brown. He had that same aura of calm authority Jason had, but he was less frightening. Humor lurked in his eyes and his smile was friendly rather than sardonic. Still, he did not look like a man one would wish to have as an enemy.
“Forgive me for staring,” Victoria said softly when Jason had finished making the introductions. “But when I first saw you standing together, I thought I saw a similarity between you.”
“I’m certain you meant that as a compliment, my lady,” Robert Collingwood said, grinning.
“No,” Jason joked, “she didn’t.”
Victoria thought frantically for some suitable reply and could find none, but she was spared further embarrassment by the earl, who shot an indignant look at Jason and said, “What possible answer can Miss Seaton make to that?”
Victoria didn’t hear Jason’s reply because her attention was diverted by another occupant of the room—an adorable little boy of about three who was standing beside the earl, staring at her in mute fascination, a forgotten sailboat clutched in his sturdy arms. With his curly, sandy hair and brown eyes, he was a miniature replica of his father, right down to the identical tan riding breeches, brown leather boots, and tan jacket he was wearing. Utterly captivated, Victoria smiled at him. “I don’t believe anyone has introduced us ...” she hinted.
“Forgive me,” the earl said with smiling gravity. “Lady Victoria, permit me to make known to you my son, John.”
The little boy put his boat down on the chair behind him and executed a solemn, adorable bow. Victoria responded by sinking into a deep curtsy, which startled a childish giggle from him. Then he pointed a chubby finger at her hair and glanced at his father. “Red?” he uttered with childish delight.
“Yes,” Robert agreed.
The child beamed. “Pretty,” he whispered, which wrung a laugh from his father.
“John, you are entirely too young to try your hand at charming the ladies,” said Collingwood.
“Oh, but I’m not a lady,” Victoria said, her heart going out to the enchanting little boy. Jauntily she told him, “I am a sailor!” He looked so dubious that Victoria added, “Oh, but I am—and a prodigiously good one, too. My Mend Andrew and I used to build boats and sail them all the time with the rest of the children—although our boats weren’t nearly as grand as yours. Shall we take yours down to the creek?”
He nodded and Victoria looked to his father for permission. “I’ll take excellent care of him,” she promised. “And the ship, of course.”
When the earl consented, John put his hand in Victoria’s and they trooped out of the study.
“She obviously likes children,” Robert observed as the two adventurers left.
“She’s scarcely more than a child herself,” Jason said dismissively.
The earl turned his head and glanced at the alluring young woman walking through the foyer. Returning his gaze to Jason’s, he lifted his brows in amused contradiction, but he said nothing.
Victoria spent the better part of an hour sitting on a blanket on the bank of the creek that carved a picturesque path through the sweeping front lawns. Sun bathed her face and warmed her limbs as she sat beside John inventing stories about pirates and storms that supposedly plagued her ship during the crossing from America. John listened, enraptured, clutching the long length of fishing line Victoria had got from Northrup and attached to the ship. When he grew bored with the tame sailing afforded his small vessel here in the shallows, she took the line from him and they walked along, Victoria guiding the vessel downstream to where the creek became very deep and raced beneath a wide, graceful stone bridge, its waters churned by a fallen tree. “Here,” she said, handing him the fishing line again. “Don’t let go, or we’ll run aground on that snarled tree down there.”
“I won’t,” he promised, smiling as his three-masted ship bobbed and dipped in the swirling water.
Victoria wandered down the steep bank and was happily gathering a bouquet of the pink, blue, and white wild flowers that carpeted the incline when John shrieked and went bounding awkwardly after the line that had obviously pulled free of his grasp. “Stay there!” she called urgently, and ran to him.
Trying manfully not to cry, he pointed to the little ship, which was now gliding straight into the limbs of the fallen tree beneath the bridge. “It’s gone,” he whispered chokily as two tears welled in his brown eyes. “Uncle George made it for me. He’ll be sad.”
Victoria bit her lip, hesitating. Although the water was obviously deep and running fast here, she and Andrew had both rescued their own ships from the far more perilous river where they had always sailed them. She raised her head and scanned the steep bank, making certain they were downhill, well out of sight of the house and everyone in it; then she made her decision.
“It’s not gone, it’s just run aground on a reef,” she said lightly, hugging him. “I’ll get it.” She was already stripping off her sandals, stockings, and the new green muslin gown Jason had provided for her. “Sit here,” she said, “and I’ll get it.”
Clad only in her chemise and light petticoat, Victoria waded into the creek until the bottom fell away beneath her feet, then struck out with long, expert strokes for the far end of the tree. Beneath the bridge the water was icy and deep as it tumbled and churned around the branches, but she had no trouble locating the little craft. She had considerable trouble, however, freeing the strong fishing line from the branches. She dove under twice, to the delighted glee of little John, who had apparently never seen anyone swim or dive before. Despite the cold water and her sodden petticoats, the swim was invigorating, and Victoria reveled in the freedom of it. “I’ll get the ship loose this time,” she called to John, waving. Watching to make certain the child wasn’t going to try to come in after her, she yelled, “Stay right there, I don’t need any help.”
