Page 64 of The Moonstone Governess
“You’ve come here and overwhelmed us all. You toss your coin about and everyone jumps to do your bidding…even me.”
“Brenna, you are the best thing in Moonstone Landing. How is it wrong of me to recognize it and rely on you? You are worth ten times what I have offered you. What price am I to put on all you have accomplished in a matter of days?” He spared a glance at Matthew, who was holding tightly to her gown and hardly dared to breathe. “And you know I am not merely referring to the manor renovations.”
“Forgive me, Your Grace. Obviously, I spoke out of turn.”
He shook his head. “No, I always want you to speak your mind to me. My friend’s behavior has rattled me, too. But he is serious, and I fully expect Felicity will be a countess before the month is out.”
What he left unsaid was Brenna’s status. This was the true disquiet Brenna was talking about. She wanted to know Daire’s intentions toward her.
He was not Jax. He needed time to open his heart even to someone as worthy as her.
“Well, it is not quite eleven o’clock yet, so I doubt my mother will be receiving visitors for at least another quarter of an hour. How about we take a walk, the three of us? Matthew, do you have your shoes? Shall I help you put them on?”
Brenna held out his shoes. “I have them right here, Your Grace. Sit down, Matthew. Show your uncle how well you put them on all by yourself.”
The lad seemed to take instruction from Brenna like a duckling to its mother. He sat on the grass and took his time struggling with one and then the other shoe. Daire was twitching with impatience, but Brenna lightly touched his hand, a sign for him not to rush the boy. “Well done,” she said once Matthew had laced them up.
She then knelt down beside him and properly tightened the laces so he would not trip as they loosened. “It takes a little bit more strength than Matthew has just yet, being as he is only six years old. Isn’t that right, Matthew? But it all works out in the end, since he helps me with anything I am not quite able to do on my own.”
She chattered away in a deliciously soothing voice.
Matthew nodded all the while. “I’m going to help Felicity in her garden. We’re to grow strawberries along the hedgerows borders because they are my favorite.”
Daire smiled at the lad. “That is an excellent idea. May I watch you? I have never planted strawberries and am curious to learn. Do you think Felicity would mind if I joined you? I can do some of the heavier digging, if that is required.”
“Miss Standish said that only nobodies like me—”
“You are not a nobody,” Daire said harshly.
Matthew yelped and hid behind Brenna.
Daire sighed. “Matthew, I was not angry with you. It is Miss Standish who got my blood boiling. You are a fine young man. Never believe anyone who tells you otherwise. And never think anyone is better than you merely because they carry a title. It means they might have more power than you, but they are not necessarily any worthier than you are.”
The lad did not respond, merely buried himself tighter against Brenna.
Daire sighed again. “Sorry, I bungled that, didn’t I?”
“No, Your Grace. In time Matthew will learn that you won’t ever hurt him. I know this, but give him time to come around because he has had a very difficult upbringing. Haven’t you, Matthew?”
The boy nodded.
He did not speak to Daire again for the entire walk, not even as they ambled through the field of poppies and began to count them. “Matthew,” Daire said, feeling as though he were talking to himself, “I think I shall purchase us some kites so we can fly them up here. Does that sound like fun to you?”
The boy looked to Brenna.
She smiled and nodded. “That is a hearty yes.”
The lad then glanced at Daire and gave a curt nod.
Well, small steps. He was glad Matthew felt a kinship to Brenna and Felicity, even if the lad held a loathing for him.
*
Apparently, the boy’skinship extended to Brenna’s uncle and his work crew. Not an hour later, Daire noticed the boy smiling as he watched Simon Angel paint the dining room walls. They had returned to the house a short while earlier. Daire had found his mother in her private parlor having breakfast. While he greeted her, Brenna had taken the boy to watch the workers.
Daire did not need long to greet Duchess Juliana. “What do you think of Miss Angel?” he asked, taking quick assessment of this woman he considered his mother, and finding her hair a little grayer than he last recalled, and her complexion a little paler. He hoped her fatigue was attributable to her long journey from London and nothing more.
Duchess Juliana arched an eyebrow. “Seems the question to ask is what doyouthink of her, my dear boy?”
