Chapter Nine

Adam talked more than usual as he and Robbie rode in a pony cart to the nearby village the following day.

“Lord Jonquil and I came here two days ago,” he said. “He showed me all the best shops. It’s a small village, but it still has shops.”

“Even small villages have shops,” she told him.

“I didn’t know that.” The poor boy had been to so few places; it was no wonder he understood so little about the world. “Lord Jonquil knows that. He knows a lot of important things.”

Important things. Like villages having shops. Robbie hid her amusement. She’d learned from experience that Adam was sensitive about being laughed at. He didn’t always understand the difference between someone finding enjoyment in what he’d said and someone mocking him. Lord Jonquil was a jovial person, who laughed often and frequently, but he was never unkind. That might help Adam come to understand the difference.

“What about Lady Jonquil?” she asked. “Does she know a great many important things as well?”

“Oh yes. More even than Lord Jonquil. She reads a lot of books. She showed me her books in her book room. She doesn’t read silly books either. She reads important ones about places all over the world and about mathematics and science. Lord Jonquil says she’s the smartest person he’s ever met. Did you know ladies can be clever?”

Again, Robbie tucked away her smile. “Oh, aye, I knew that.”

“Lord Jonquil says we can walk on his mountain again. He says I’m getting very good at it. I didn’t know I could be good at walking on mountains.”

“When I was a wee girl, I lived in Scotland. We’ve very tall mountains there.”

He looked up at her. “Did you ever walk on them?”

“I did nae.”

He nodded slowly, contemplatively. “Maybe someday Lord Jonquil and I will go to Scotland and walk on those mountains.”

“I suspect he would like that very much,” Robbie said.

“Did you know Lord and Lady Jonquil will have a baby come to their house this year?”

“I did.”

His dark brows pulled low in a look she knew well. He was worried about something. Again.

“Do you suppose when they have a baby of their own, they won’t want me to come see them anymore?”

Life had taught him to anticipate abandonment. And even here, in a place where he was more lighthearted than he’d just about ever been and was being shown he was wanted, he’d already prepared himself to be forgotten.

“They do not strike me as the type of folks who forget someone they love.”

He turned wide eyes up to her. In a tiny, hesitant voice he asked, “Do you think they love me?”

“My wee Adam, I’ve nae a doubt in the world that they love you.”

He was very quiet after that. She couldn’t tell whether he was reassured by her words. More than anything, he looked confused.

They reached the outer edges of Alnbury. The coachman who’d driven them there dropped them on the high street before making his way to the pub, where he meant to pass the time before they were ready to return.

Robbie held her hand out to Adam, but he didn’t take it. She was forever having to remind herself about that change in him. He’d returned from Harrow more distant in so many ways.

As they walked past shops, Adam told her about each and every thing they saw. Most of his explanations included Lord Jonquil’s opinion on the various items. How Robbie hoped she was right about His Lordship. He’d quickly taken on the roles of older brother, uncle, and father somehow all rolled up into one. If he did forget about Adam after his own family began to grow, it’d be yet another devastating blow to this child who had already endured too many.

They’d only just stepped out of the confectionery shop, each enjoying a peppermint stick, when their paths crossed with Mr. Simpkin. For reasons Robbie couldn’t fully explain, seeing him made her blush. She’d nothing to be embarrassed about. They’d passed a pleasant couple of hours working in the garden the day before. Their conversation had occasionally touched on more personal topics but nothing inappropriate or worthy of regret. The time they spent looking for trees from which to make Christmas decorations had been quite pleasant. Yet seeing him made her insides squirm about the same way they had when she’d worked for a family in Cumberland who’d had a stablehand she’d found particularly handsome. The same way they had when she was sixteen and working as a chambermaid in Derbyshire and one of the local lads had made sheep’s eyes at her. She understood the reaction for what it was—her heart growing a wee bit partial to a handsome man who’d shown himself to be good company—but she was hardly in a position to let those feelings grow, so she pushed them down and summoned her best manners.

Mr. Simpkin bowed to Adam, as was expected, for he, though a little boy, held one of the highest ranks in all the land. Only the royal family ranked above a duke. And the Duke of Kielder was one of the oldest and most respected titles in the kingdom. Adam, she didn’t doubt, would bring even more prestige to it as he grew. He was clever and determined. He held his father’s legacy in such esteem that she couldn’t imagine him ever allowing the title his beloved father had held to be anything but revered. And, if he was fortunate enough to retain the presence of Lord Jonquil in his life, he would have someone to guide him toward being a peer, in the best possible way.

But, for now, he was a child, one adults were required to bow to but none were required to love.

Adam watched Mr. Simpkin with obvious displeasure. Robbie had not yet sorted the reason for that. Her opinion of him was improving, not deteriorating. Why, then, was Adam not having the same experience? No sooner had the thought entered her mind than she realized the difficulty: he’d not spent time with Mr. Simpkin.

“What brings you to the village, Miss MacGregor?” Mr. Simpkin asked.

“His Grace wished to show me around.”

Mr. Simpkin dipped his head to Adam once more. “Very thoughtful of you, Your Grace.”

Adam didn’t answer but watched Mr. Simpkin with an unwavering gaze. There was a hardness to it that spoke not of petulance but of fierceness. His was an expression that told the recipient that his respect was not easily earned but was worth obtaining. How, in heaven’s name, had he learned the trick of that in the short time he’d been away at school? He was eight years old; he ought not be hardened yet.

“What has brought you to the village?” Robbie asked Mr. Simpkin.

“I came to see if word had arrived about the stone I’m waiting for.”

“It’s nae yet arrived?”

He shook his head. “It’ll be another couple of days yet. I’ll do all I can to work while I’m waiting. I’d not wish to waste Lord Jonquil’s time.”

Adam spoke for the first time since Mr. Simpkin’s arrival. “Nurse Robbie helped you for two hours yesterday. I hope you did not waste her time either.” Again, he managed not to sound like a little boy having a temper tantrum but very much like his late father had when issuing a directive. His was the same tone of authority, the same unwavering competence.

“Nurse Robbie was enormously helpful,” Mr. Simpkin responded. “It seems she has learned a great deal from the gardener at Falstone Castle.”

Adam’s chin tipped at a proud angle. “We have a very good groundskeeper at the castle. My father chose him himself.”

Mr. Simpkin nodded. “Your father was clearly a very wise man and a good steward of his estate.”

Some of Adam’s animosity slipped away. But only some. “Have you any other business in the village?” he asked.

“I do not,” Mr. Simpkin said. “I do not wish to keep you from yours.”

Were Adam anyone other than who he was, Robbie would have immediately invited Mr. Simpkin to stay. But, if one were being quite technical, she had to defer to Adam publicly. Child or not, he was a duke.

To Adam she said, “Would you mind if Mr. Simpkin joins us? If he remains, he can ride back with us in the pony cart. This will save some time and allow him to return to his work more quickly, which Lord and Lady Jonquil would nae doubt appreciate.”

His mouth tightened in a tense line. She thought for a moment that he meant to refuse. He didn’t, but neither did he offer any false declarations of pleasure. He simply gave one tiny nod and looked away.

She met Mr. Simpkin’s eye and tried to offer a silent apology. He simply smiled and motioned for her to continue on her way.

Adam once more took up their tour of the village. He was more formal now. How quickly he had learned the expectations of a person of rank. He maintained his personable and deeper connections with her and Lord and Lady Jonquil. But what if he continued to keep everyone else at a distance? He would be very lonely indeed.

Mr. Simpkin leaned a touch closer to her as they walked and whispered, “You look pensive. Is something the matter?”

“I worry about the wee boy,” she said. “Always.”

“You needn’t worry right this moment. He is happy and looked after and is having an adventure and a pleasant excursion. Let your mind rest a bit.”

She appreciated the sentiment behind his words. There would be time enough for worrying. For now, she could breathe.

“What else did Lord Jonquil show you when you were here?” she asked Adam.

He led them about, indicating shops and things of interest. He didn’t fully warm up to Mr. Simpkin, but he did relax a bit. All in all, they spent a very lovely time in the village.

They met the coachman at the previously decided upon place. He’d spent his time in the pub but wasn’t in his cups.

The pony cart was not large enough for Mr. Simpkin, Adam, and Robbie to all ride in the back without Adam sitting on her lap. She suspected he didn’t appreciate the babyish arrangement, but he acquiesced. The road back was bumpy and at times unforgiving. She wrapped one arm around Adam, worrying he’d be bumped clear out.

At first, he was stiff and didn’t seem to appreciate her protective gesture. But after a moment he set his arms around hers and leaned back against her as he used to do. His eyes were on the mountain, the one he had climbed with Lord Jonquil. She suspected his thoughts were even further afield. The times she caught him with this particular pensive expression, she knew he was thinking of his father. She held him tighter, wishing she could take away his heartache.

In a low voice, she sang to him the song she had since he was born, one that never failed to calm him.

Saw ye my wee thing? Saw ye my own thing?

Saw ye my bonnie boy down by the lea?

He skipped ’cross the meadow yestere’en at the gloaming.

Small as a thistle my dear boy is he.

Adam sniffled a little, curling himself against her. She pressed a little kiss to the top of his head. That he didn’t object, he who wouldn’t even let her hold his hand lately, spoke volumes of his heavy heart.

Mr. Simpkin set his hand around her free one. He didn’t say anything but simply offered support. She had come to realize he was very observant and hardly missed a thing. He had seemed to sort out that she was grieving. Though she was generally a very private person and kept to herself, she accepted the comfort he offered and laid her head against his shoulder.

They rode like that all the way back to Brier Hill. Leaning into the strength of this good-hearted man, with a child resting on her lap, Robbie could almost picture herself with the family she’d never have. Servants didn’t marry. And they didn’t have children. If she took up employment as a nursemaid again, this little dream she’d never let fully blossom in her heart could never become reality. But she had no other skills. And leaving Adam would devastate him.

If only life were as easy to sort as a surprise Christmas celebration.