The boy ignored her. "If your bloke's punting on Tick, guv, I know all the sponging houses an' diving kens he'd try. No Runner can get near half the places me an' my friends can go."
"He has a point."
"He has lessons, if he's to grow up to be a Runner." Both males were looking at her so pleadinglyNed to be allowed to return to London and show off for his chums there, and the earl, for her to get rid of the lad so they could have some privacythat she said she'd think about it. Ned went to pack.
The next letter was going to give Windham all the privacy he wanted, in Paris. Peace was about to be declared, the secretary wrote him, and the earl was needed to help draft terms of surrender. According to Whitehall, his experience in the diplomatic corps, his fluency in the language, and his influential connections made Windham a prime candidate for the committee.
"Damn and blast! I'll have to go back to France."
"Why can't you simply tell him no?" Aurora thought her husband had spent little enough time with her since their wedding as is. Besides, he'd just returned with his brother. Surely the Warriners had done enough for king and country.
"You don't understand, my love. This isn't any secretary asking, this is the Home Secretary, writing on Prinny's behalf. To refuse would be close to treason, I'm afraid. Noblesse oblige , and all that."
It was deuced unobliging to expect a new bridegroom to leave his wife. Windham crumpled the letter in his fist. "I might be able to take you with me, though. What do you think?"
Aurora chewed on her lip. She thought she'd like nothing better than spending time alone with this appealing man she'd married. "I'd love to go with you, but what about everyone here? I cannot just abandon poor Nialla one day after inviting her, and Brianne needs a more watchful chaperone than Aunt Ellenette, with Mr. Royce in the house. I'm afraid I should stay behind."
At least she did not sound relieved to be spared his company. "I would feel better leaving you to look after Kit, too, thunderation."
"Do not curse, you'll be part of history. Besides, you can travel faster and get home that much more quickly. When do you think you'll have to leave?"
"As soon as Tarlow can pack."
"Today? Thunderation!"
With all the farewells and all the instructions, half of which Kenyon knew his wife would ignore, they barely had time for a good-bye kiss, in view of almost the whole household. Even Brianne left her bed to wave a handkerchief as his coach rolled down the carriage drive. Without a word, she pressed it into Aurora's hand when the carriage was out of sight.
Trailing back to the house, Aurora wiped her eyes and firmed her backbone. Her husband was counting on her to manage in his absence, to oversee the welfare of his family and dependents and propertyto be Lady Windham, in other words. It was a big responsibility, but she could do it, for him.
Aurora started by opening the rest of the mail that Kenyon had not gotten to. She put the bills in a pile for Mr. Dawson, the invitations in a pile for Brianne, and read the remaining letters herself. One she read twice. Then she sat staring at nothing while she tried to decide what her husband would want her to do. Ignore it, most likely, but that was not Aurora's way. No, she would have to do precisely what he would least wish her to do, and right after promising to stay out of trouble.
Trouble? This was going to be worse than losing the Windham diamonds, worse than introducing a highwayman to his harebrained sister, worse even than the monkey. Aurora was going to bring the Earl of Windham's son home.
Chapter Twenty-two
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Bells were pealing everywherechurch bells, fire bells, even cow bells.
"Why are they all ringing?" the boy asked when he stepped down from the coach.
Unable to wait in the parlor like a properly sedate matron, Aurora had raced down the stairs when she heard Andrew's carriage. She barely restrained herself from hugging him, her son. From being the only child in a household of scholarly adults, she now had a brother and a sister, and a little boy to love! One look at the anxious face that reminded her of his father, and she adored him already.
"Why, the bells are ringing to welcome the Windham heir home, of course," she told Andrew, half laughing.
"Truly?" Andrew was not quite sure he believed her, playful teasing not having come his way in the past.
"Truly. Oh, I suppose they might be celebrating the end of war, too, but your homecoming is certainly the first cause for joy at Windrush."
He was following her into the enormous entry hall, staring around, stepping carefully around anything that looked remotely fragile or valuable. "I am glad it is over. My mother died in that war, you know."
"Yes, I do know, and I am very sorry. My mother died when I was a baby also. I lost my father, too."
He shrugged as if fathers were of no account. "Who took you?"
"My aunt and uncle, who are now your great-aunt and great-uncle. Ah, do you like lizards?"
He stepped back, as though she were dicked in the nob. Aurora knew she was babbling, but she so wanted him to be happy here. "You have an aunt and uncle of your own, of course. Brianne and Christopher are anxious for your company." They were anxious to be out of the country before Windham got wind of what she'd done. She'd had no choice, Aurora had told them. The school was stricken with the mumps, and all the boys were sent home, but the family Andrew stayed with between terms was off on holiday, not expecting him. Was she supposed to tell the school to deposit the boy at an inn, like some unwanted parcel? No, she'd had no choice. Windham would understand. "And you are lucky, Andrew; you still have your father."
That ended that avenue of conversation. Andrew stood in the center of the library she'd led him to, not touching anything, just staring at the carpet. Andrew was small for his age, shy, and obviously terrified of his father.
"He'll be sorry he wasn't here to greet you, I'm certain." Aurora was trying to reassure both of them.
Andrew shook his head. "No, he won't. He'll hate me. I'm stupid. Everyone says so. And the family I stay with doesn't want me back, either. They say he doesn't pay them enough."
"Gammon. I know he pays them very well. And you are not stupid, I am sure."
"It's true. This isn't my first school, you know. The other one said they couldn't teach a dunce cap like me to read, so they sent me away. I cannot do arithmetic, and my penmanship is dreadful, and I hate that dumb place! The instructors are mean, and I don't care if they won't take me back!"
He and Ned would be excellent friends, Aurora thought. She also thought Andrew and Brianne had a lot in common, which was not as pleasant a prospect. Hoping to head off a display of temper, she asked, "If not reading or writing or arithmetic, what subjects are you good at? Globes? History?"
"French is the only thing I can do, on account of getting the accent right. But then the other boys call me a Frog."
"My uncle adores frogsthe croaking kind. Perhaps he'll let you hold one."
Andrew scuffed at the carpet. "I won't be here long enough. He will be back, now that the truce is declared. He won't let me stay. He'll just find another mean old place to send me."
"Fustian, once Lord Windham gets to know you, he'll regret not having you home more often."
Andrew gave her the look children reserved for adults making particularly childish remarks. "I am dumb at schoolwork, not queer in the attic. He won't like me. I never do anything right. I always bump into things and can't ever hit the ball at cricket. The masters say I am slower than molasses, and the other boys laugh at me all the time."
Aurora would not believe that Andrew was anyone else's boy, and she could not believe that a child of Windham's might be dim-witted. Stubborn, yes. She found one of Windham's ubiquitous looking glasses in the desk drawer and held it and a book out to the boy.
He turned scarlet. "I can't"
"Try."
"I can! I can read it! I say, what a marvelous device."
"Has no one thought to have you fitted for spectacles?"
"Criminy, no. The other boys would have laughed."
"Your father wears glasses"when she nagged at him"and your uncle, who is a genuine hero, with medals and all. If he can wear spectacles, so can you. We shall send for a pair this afternoon. Meanwhile, here." She looped the ribbon over his head, and, unable to help herself, she kissed the top of his head. He had brown hair, not the auburn of the other Warriners, but this was Kenyon's son, she'd bet her life on it. She already had, most likely.
"All the finest gentlemen carry quizzing glasses, don't you know. And and I shall try not to embarrass you again with such demonstrations of affection."
Blushing, he forgave her. "Do you remember your mother?"
"Not much. Half of what I do remember might be from my aunt's stories anyway. Do you recall yours?"
"Not much. She was very pretty, they tell me."
"She was beautiful. You can ask Brianne and your Aunt Ellenette." Who were forever reminding Aurora that she did not measure up. "There is a portrait of your mother in the attics. We could bring it down for your room if you like. You have her coloring and chin and handsome brown eyes. But I recognize some of your father's and aunt's characteristics."
Andrew took that as a compliment. "You're pretty, too."