Page 18 of Tempting Mr. Townsend
“And with your permission, I'll check on Mrs. Penn. I might be able to help. Also I'd like to send a note to London, letting the household know Brand's safe.”
“You can spare half an hour to tidy up and have something to eat.”
The warmth in her smile banished his awkwardness. “You're right. All that can wait.”
A fresh-faced country girl came in and curtsied. “My lady, my name is Susan. I'll show you upstairs.”
Fenella delayed to lay one slender hand on Anthony's arm. “Don't fret about Carey. You've both suffered an appalling loss, and you have a lot of adjustments to make. But love on both sides will smooth the way. You just need time to work out how to proceed. Kindness and patience will win the day.”
Her eyes glowed as if she had every faith in him. Looking into her bonny face, he found himself believing her.
“Thank you,” he said, wishing she'd keep touching him, but she left to follow Susan upstairs.
In a daze, he drifted across to sit at the round mahogany table, barely noticing when Gregory the footman placed a steaming cup of coffee before him.
He could blame his distraction on lack of sleep, or his overwhelming relief at finding the runaways. But he hadn't built his business empire from nothing by avoiding unwelcome truths. He wasn't going to start lying to himself now.
Unromantic, mundane Anthony Townsend was falling helplessly in love with a fine lady who, by rights, shouldn't spare him a glance. And he had no idea what in Hades to do about it.
Chapter Six
It was late morning when Fenella emerged from her bedroom to check on Brand. A couple of hours of exhausted sleep had left her sluggish. As was often the way, she felt worse than she had when she'd rushed into the house at dawn, buoyed up with fear.
As she'd tidied her hair, she'd met shadowed blue eyes in her mirror. The night's travel had changed her in ways she wasn't yet ready to accept. The woman looking back at her was frightened to death that the firm ground beneath her feet turned to quicksand.
The boys' bedrooms were empty. With a clear if cold day, she guessed they must be outside somewhere. They wouldn't go far. Brand must be well aware a lecture awaited, and he'd never been a coward.
Unlike his mother.
Who hoped desperately that the intriguing Mr. Townsend slept the day away. Then she needn't face the knowledge that while she was a mother, she was a woman, too. A woman who had been wrong to believe all interest in an attractive man died with her beloved husband.
When a footman told her the boys were with Mrs. Penn, she made her way to the east wing for the second time. Mr. Townsend provided generously for the woman who had caredfor him as a baby. Unfortunately, not all the generosity in the world could change the sad reality that Carey's nurse was unlikely to live much longer. If Fenella had ever wanted to blame Carey for needless panic, one glance at Mrs. Penn's drawn face had told her he was right to rush to her side.
“Lady Deerham, how kind you are to check on me again,” Mrs. Penn said when Fenella arrived. Her smile didn't hide her frailty.
Carey sat on the bed playing cards with her. Brand had pulled a chair up to the game and gripped five grubby cards in one hand. Marbles on the patchwork counterpane showed the stakes. At the moment, Carey was winning.
“Mamma!” Brand said, throwing his cards down and diving across the room into her arms.
“Oh, Brand…” With a muffled sob, she dragged him into a desperate embrace.
Immediately, the familiar little-boy smell of him soothed away the last remnants of her fear. Although he'd grown in the last month. Soon he'd be taller than she was. A sharp reminder that his precious childhood years were so short—and she was missing them.
After a moment's indecision, he hugged her back. But she understood masculine pride enough to know that he wouldn't appreciate his mother weeping all over him in front of his friend. After a kiss on his cheek, she reluctantly released him.
Brand stepped back and gave her an uncertain smile. “You're not pleased with me.”
He was so infinitely dear and vulnerable, and she could so easily have lost him last night. But some instinct told her to play this particular scene lightly, not as the tragic, widowed mother. She knew he expected a well-deserved reprimand, but she was still at the stage where relief outweighed her urge to chide. “I'm happy you're all right.”
She tried not to fret at the dark circles under his blue eyes. He was safe. That was all that mattered right now. His ill-fitting clothing, borrowed from Carey she assumed, sparked another rush of poignant tenderness. With bony ankles and wrists on show, he looked more like a street urchin than a young baronet.
“There was no harm done in the end,” Mrs. Penn said.
“That's something my son and I are going to discuss at length later,” she said in a steely voice, even as her hands itched to clutch Brand to her and never let him go. “I just want to make sure these two rascals aren't disturbing you.”
“Three.” Mrs. Penn tilted her head toward Mr. Townsend, standing solid as a huge tree near the window.
“Yes.” Fenella glanced at Mr. Townsend—who disturbed her even if he didn't disturb his old nanny. He leaned one shoulder against the flowered wallpaper and surveyed the boys with wry amusement. He must wonder how all the mad fury of their chase through the night ended in this cozy scene. She wondered herself.
