Page 9 of Second Chances
“Robert,” the duchess said, addressing the back of his son’s head, which was buried against his neck, “you are almost six years old, are you not? You may be the very person I need. There is a four-year-old boy over there by the window who is looking very unhappy indeed because he knows no one and is too shy to make himself known. I fear he will not enjoy his stay here if someone a little older does not befriend him. Could that older boy possibly be you? It would be extremely kind of you though you must not feel obliged. His name is Tommy.”
For a moment Robert did not respond. Then he lifted his head and looked across the crowded room to where a little ginger-haired boy was sitting on the window seat, playing forlornly with a small sailing ship.
“I’ll come with you, Robbie, if you like,” Georgette offered.
But Robert seemed not to hear her. He did not protest when Michael set him down. He set off across the room without taking his eyes off the other child and bent over him, his hands on his knees as he said something, just as though he were an octogenarian addressing an infant. Tommy tucked his chin against his chest before looking up and extending the hand holding the toy ship toward Robert, who looked closely at it, touched it, and said something. He sat beside Tommy, who was now gazing at him with the beginnings—surely—of hero worship.
“That was well done of you,” Michael said. “He is abnormally shy.”
“I can see that,” the duchess said with a smile. “He needs someone younger than himself to protect. He will be fine, Lord Staunton. You must not worry. Ah, here comes Eleanor with Lizzie.”
He looked toward the door to see a young girl, who was leading—or being led by—a black and white border collie on a short leash. His daughter shrieked before he had a chance to look at the woman who had entered the room with her.
“Miss Thompson!” Georgette cried—and dashed across the room.
And good God, it was indeed she. Miss Thompson. Eleanor.
“Your daughter knows my sister?” the duchess asked.
“We were stranded together at an inn yesterday,” he said, gazing across the room. “Georgette escaped from her room and, before she was missed, talked Miss Thompson’s head off in the dining room while she was having her tea. The lady is your sister? She was very kind to my daughter.”
He was absurdly delighted to see her again and only very slightly embarrassed.
She was looking startled at Georgette’s approaching figure, and then her eyes met his for one moment before his daughter hurled herself into her arms and almost bowled her over. He closed his eyes briefly.
The duchess laughed. “Do not discourage her enthusiasm,” she said, correctly reading his expression. “There is sometimes a strange notion that perfect ladies ought to be demure and that girls ought to be brought up to aspire to such perfection.”
Miss Thompson, having been released from Georgette’s clutches, was introducing her to her young companion, who looked a few years older than his daughter.
“She is Lizzie,” the duchess explained, “the Marquess of Attingsborough’s daughter. The marchioness used to teach with Eleanor in Bath. The dog is Horace. He leads her about with only the occasional mishap. He has been trained since she first acquired him and he led her spectacularly astray one afternoon on the estate next to ours when there were at least a dozen of us adults supposedly keeping an eye on her.”
Michael looked more closely. “She is blind?” he asked.
“Since birth,” she said. “But sometimes one almost forgets. Claudia and Joseph give her all the rein she needs to explore her world, and Claudia has found a way of educating her so that she may live as rich a life as anyone else.”
“It is not easy being a parent,” he said with great lack of originality.
“It is not,” she agreed, “and someone ought to warn us before we launch into the state with blissful ignorance. Shall we go down for tea before we are deafened, and take Eleanor with us?”
“Papa,” Georgette shrieked as they approached the door. “Miss Thompson is here. Is it not the best surprise ever? And this is Lizzie, and her dog is Horace and goes everywhere with her because she is blind and he acts as her eyes. Is that not clever? I am going to ask her a million questions about being blind. I have never met a blind person before.”
Michael winced, but Lizzie only laughed. “Neither have I,” she said. “Is that not funny? I have never met anyone else who is blind. Shall we go to my room, where it will be a little quieter?”
“Oh, yes, and perhaps we may be friends,” Georgette said, and off they went, arm in arm, the dog trotting beside his mistress.
Robert was engrossed with the ship, which he and Tommy were sailing on the seat between them, their heads almost touching above it.
“Miss Thompson.” Michael smiled at the lady. “You told me you were on your way to spend the summer with your family. I told you I was on my way to a house party. Neither of us mentioned any names or places, though, did we? I am delighted to see you again, and I think it possible my daughter is quite pleased too though you may not have noticed.”
She laughed and...blushed? “I am delighted too,” she said. “Has Lord Staunton told you we found ourselves marooned at the same inn last night, Christine? He was kind enough to invite me to dine with him in the only private parlor available.”
Michael offered them each an arm and they made their way downstairs. He was still smiling when they stepped into the crowded drawing room a couple of minutes later. Perhaps he had done the right thing after all in coming here. And really it had not felt awkward at all meeting Miss Thompson again. He had refined too much on that accidental kiss and the attraction he had felt for her toward the end of last evening.
And then his eyes alit upon two fashionably dressed ladies across the room, the younger looking very fetching indeed in a pale primrose afternoon dress.
Lady Connaught and Miss Everly.
Good God!
