Page 39 of An Unwitting Alliance
“I want to see the kittens,” Jane said, squirming again in Cassandra’s arms.
“Me too, me too!” Bethany stood and started jumping on the bed. Mama curled up over her large stomach to protect herself just as Mr. Harwood caught Bethany to him.
“Forgive me, Mother Vail. Are you well?”
“Mother Vail?” Mama’s eyes lit up. “What an endearing name. I adore it! And I am all right now. Nancy can see to the girls.”
Cassandra knew what Mama would be including in her letter to Lady Felcroft—Mr. Harwood’s pet name for her. Good grief. She ought to tell Mama of the romantic endearment he used for Cassandra—Grandmother. What would their mothers make of that?
“I am perfectly happy to supervise them in the stables,” Mr. Harwood said. “That should allow Nancy a bit of respite while she cleans up.”
It appeared Cassandra was going to the stables too. It was no place for little girls to run wild. She could just see them sneaking into a stall and getting kicked or stepped on by a horse. And she sensed Mr. Harwood did not know the first thing about children. After a little time with her wild siblings, his resolution against fatherhood would be further cemented. For some reason, that idea worried her just as much as the safety of her sisters.
Not ten minutes later they were crowded outside an empty stall that now housed a crate of kittens. Mr. Harwood slung his jacket over one wall of the stall and beckoned the little girls inside. Cassandra had already come to adore Tiger, but she had forgotten how darling the other kittens were. Bethany and Jane were immediately smitten, and it did not take them long to name them all.
When Jane picked one up by the tail, Mr. Harwood did not snap at her but scooped up both her and the kitten and gently taught her the correct way to carry it. He sat in the hay without a single worry about dirtying his breeches, with Jane on his lap. Jane giggled as the kitten squirmed free and attempted to climb up her dress. Mr. Harwood placed it quickly back in her lap and soon was singing a silly song and bouncing Jane on his knee. Bethany came over and climbed up on his other knee. Up and down they went, both shrieking with delight.
Cassandra leaned against the wood frame of the stall, watching in awe. Mr. Harwood was a natural with children. He’d seemed so wary initially, but it was clear he had underestimated himself. Soon the girls were back to the kittens, and Mr. Harwood looked up at her.
“Join us, Cassie.”
“Cassie?” Her traitorous smile ruined any effect a scolding for such familiarity might have had.
“It has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
She stared at him, debating whether to allow it. Her resolve to keep him at bay weakened more with every interaction. But the voices in her head had no chance against one of Tom Harwood’s smiles. She cleared her throat. “I prefer Cassie to Grandmother.” She stepped into the stall, hovering by the door.
“And I like it better than Miss Cassandra Ophelia Euphemia Buxton Vail.” He winked at her. “’Tis a bit of a mouthful.”
“About that...” She smothered her smile with her hand. “I might have added a few extras names to my letter of introduction for a dramatic touch.”
“It was most creative.”
She lowered her hand, her fingers playing with her skirt. “What names do people give back to you?”
“Trustful Tom, Thoughtful Tom, Tender Tom. There are so many charming names for me, I can hardly recommend one. You may choose to call me all three.” He put his hand dramatically over his heart, feigning a look of soberness.
“Teasing Tom?” she offered.
“Terribly overused,” he grunted. “Practically redundant. I am not sure why that is the first thing to come to everyone’s lips. It hardly describes me.”
She eyed him. His guard had lowered a mere fraction, revealing a greater depth to him. Why he hid it so effectively, she did not know. His cheerful teasing generally produced smiles from those around him—even her on occasion—but it was a careful mask. “Perhaps the name does not describe every side of you but only the one you choose to show.”
He studied her in turn, his gaze intent upon hers. “Interestingly enough, you have hit upon the name I give myself: Vizard. A little archaic but inspired by Shakespeare. You might recall the line fromMacbeth: “‘Make our faces vizards to our hearts, disguising what they are.’ Which begs the question, Miss Cassie, are you always so perceptive?”
Perceptive enough to have uncovered another layer of his character. He had hidden depths he went to great lengths to hide, as his nickname suggested. Despite this, she could tell he appreciated that she saw the real him. His warm stare traveled through her, reaching her chest and spreading through her limbs, and she shifted awkwardly against the rough wood, giving herself a reason to break eye contact.
He tapped the hay next to him. “Take a seat. You can’t have slept much last night.”
“I took a short nap, but I can’t deny sitting sounds wonderful.” Even if it was in the itchy hay, a respite would do her good. Her worry about Mama wearied her more than her lack of sleep. She slid down next to Mr. Harwood, surprised to find him looking at her still. Were her looks so altered with her fatigue? Suddenly she was self-conscious. “What is it?”
“I want to help. I had planned to ride to Leeds tomorrow to see a different workhouse, but if you need me here, I can stay.”
“You do not need to change your plans on our account.” Cassandra focused on straightening her skirts. “We can all lend a hand while Mama rests. By tomorrow my family ought to have some sort of order restored.” Though, even as she said it, she realized that her mother was the captain of the home and directed the household like a tight ship. And Papa had business to see to and had no idea of servants’ duties or arranging the menu. Cassandra could help, but the boys deserved her attention inthe schoolroom too.
“Let me know if you change your mind. I can be content if I stay behind.”
When she did not respond, their attention went to Bethany and Jane, who were pretending to be mothers to their kittens. For several minutes she and Mr. Harwood amused themselves by watching the girls play. When the little ones had exhausted themselves with their game, Bethany curled up on Mr. Harwood’s lap and Jane crawled onto Cassandra’s.
