“Papa!” The tiny voice grew more urgent, threatening tears.
Adam burst into the bedroom, scanning the dimly-lit interior for the child he was now responsible to protect. “Paul!”
Just as he’d feared, the boy was not in the crib. He tore aside the mosquito netting and the blanket, but uncovered only the stuffed monkey. Just then, the mingled sounds of panting and sniffling came to him from the corner behind his desk. Adam was there in two strides. First he saw Alice, standing close to the darkened corner, looking up with an urgent expression. Her body blocked the shape of little Paul, who was patting her even as he struggled to escape.
“Woof,” said Alice.
“Oh, thank God.” Adam knelt beside them and put an arm around the dog’s neck. “Good girl. You’re the most magnificent girl.”
She began to pant again and licked his cheek. This made Paul laugh; he came closer and pressed his own sleep-warm mouth to his father’s face. Just when Adam was beginning to relax, and had slipped an arm around the little boy to draw him onto his knee, something furry came flying through the air and landed on Alice’s back.
“Stripey!” squealed Paul.
When Alice reared back to dislodge the attacker, Stripey leaped onto Adam’s arm instead, claws extended. In the next instant, the kitten sprang into the air again, landing on the bed. To Adam’s horror, Alice attempted to go after him but was too arthritic to jump that high. Instead, she stood up with her front paws on the mattress and barked at the hissing cat.
“Woof! Woof!” Alice threatened. A moment later, Stripey launched himself again, this time into the corridor, and the elderly Labrador gave chase.
Paul was giggling and trying to run after the animals, but Adam held fast to his nightshirt. “Oh, no you don’t. It’s well past your bedtime.”
When he stood and began to carry him toward the crib, Paul sobbed, “No! Papa’s bed!”
Too tired to argue or endure another bout of tears, Adam turned toward the big testered bed and set him down. The little boy sat looking at him, wide-eyed, until he drew back the covers, pulled off his riding boots, and lay down beside him. Paul came closer. Adam scooped him up so that his curly head was tucked into the crook of his shoulder.
“Mummy?” he asked with a little sigh.
“Mummy had to go away for a bit, little one, but Papa will take care of you. Now, go to sleep.” Glancing down, he saw that the child’s eyes were open and they shone with tears. “Did you know that when I was a little boy like you I had a pony? The pony’s name was Esmerelda and she had one blue eye and one brown eye.” Encouraged by Paul’s soft chortle of delight, Adam continued, “Esmerelda loved sugar cubes and she had her own pet kitten, just like Stripey.” He went on with the story until he heard his son’s breathing soften and he knew he was asleep.
Alice was sitting next to the bed, staring at them, her eyes filled with questions.
“Ah, girl, you are probably confused,” Adam whispered. With his free hand, he reached over and stroked her brow. “I am confused as well. Your mistress has gone away, and I have realized that I shall have to formulate a brilliant plan to win her back.”
Alice appeared to nod in the shadows, then inclined her head meaningfully toward the bed.
“You too? You’re all taking advantage of me. I shouldn’t allow it, you know.” He made no protest, however, as she went immediately to the bedsteps and managed to negotiate them. Moments later, the big dog was settling down beside him, sighing loudly with pleasure.
“You may have to help me execute my plan, Alice. Lady Raveneau is fonder of you than she is of me right now.” A smile touched his mouth before he remembered Retta’s advice that first he must fix himself. “Fix myself? Bloody hell, that’s the last thing I want to do.”
Just then, a massive wave of fatigue swept over him and carried him away.
Chapter 27
From a distance, Adam heard knocking. He attempted to open his eyes without success. “Mmph?”
“Good God, what’s happening here?” cried Byron Matthews as he entered the bedchamber with a breakfast tray. “Are you all right?”
Adam squinted at him. “I must be dreaming.”
“That was my line, old fellow.” He set the tray, laden with coffee and cups, down on the little tea table Cathy had installed in the bedroom. Turning, Byron surveyed the rumpled bed. His friend was fully clothed except for his boots, which were haphazardly discarded on the floor. He wore riding breeches and a wrinkled linen shirt, and locks of his black hair stuck out rather comically. Alice lay snoring against his right leg and a sleeping curly-headed toddler in a nightshirt was sprawled across Adam’s chest, preventing him from sitting up. In the middle of the other, empty pillow curled a gray tiger-striped kitten. Ribbons of sunlight tried to find their way through the shutters with limited success. “This was hardly the scene of domestic bliss I expected to encounter at Tempest Hall.”
“Believe me, none of this was my idea.” His head hurt, though he was quite certain he hadn’t drunk any of the brandy that had been enticing him the night before. “Where the devil did you come from?”
“I sent you a telegram yesterday. Didn’t you get it?”
“Yesterday? Are you referring to Christmas, the worst day of my life?”
Byron poured himself a cup of coffee and added two lumps of sugar. “What’s happened? I’m almost afraid to ask the identity of that child.”
Just then, Paul sat up and looked around at the two men and the strange room. His chin began to quiver. “Mummy. Want my mummy!”
Alice suddenly shook herself awake and indulged in a long, loud yawn. However, one look at her master sent her clambering off the bed and out of the room to find her breakfast.
“Paul,” Adam said firmly, “please don’t cry. Let’s get you up and dressed—”
The child was already climbing down and bending to look under the bed. Moments later, he dragged out the chamber pot, lifted his nightshirt, and aimed with mixed success. Looking on, Byron laughed.
“You might need a lesson or two from your...” he sent a questioning glance toward his friend, who gave a reluctant nod. “Father.”
Pointing at Adam, Paul corrected, “Papa.”
“You’ve clearly been very busy since I last saw you,” Byron remarked as he handed Raveneau a cup of coffee.
Between them, the men got Paul dressed and the three of them went down the corridor to the back stairs. Paul was carrying his stuffed monkey and Stripey capered behind them, chasing a centipede that eventually darted under a cracked baseboard. When they came into the sunlit dining room, June was there, spreading covered dishes on the long table.
“Can I please take the little boy and feed him, sir?” she asked. “He’s very handsome! Josephine has made a special breakfast.”
Adam thought back to the day when he had come home and discovered Cathy wearing a headtie, working alongside June in the dressing room. The girl had clearly adored her mistress but had appeared to be somewhat intimidated by him. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to change her opinion.
“That’s very kind of you, June,” he told her now, smiling. “You know that Lady Raveneau isn’t here, so I appreciate any extra assistance you can offer.”
“Is it true that she is going home to America?” she asked in hushed tones.
Her words were a shock to him. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Paul was reluctant at first to leave his father, but June smiled at him so brightly that he finally went off with her.
“Does your monkey have a name?” she inquired as they left the dining room.
He looked at it for a moment, pondering, and answered, imitating the throaty chatter of a monkey, “Ooh-ah!”
Adam glanced at Byron and smiled. “Brilliant child, isn’t he?”
Filling their plates with eggs, coconut bread, and papaya drizzled with lime, the two men went out into the gallery. They took planters’ chairs overlooking the gardens Cathy had been laboring to restore and ate for a few minutes in silence.
“That’s better,” Adam said at length. “I don’t remember having any food yesterday.”
Byron blinked. “No food on Christmas Day? This is all very mysterious. Are you going to enlighten me?”
“Perhaps. I would rather you tell me first what the devil you’re doing in Barbados and how you came to turn up in my bedroom at the break of dawn!”
“It’s ten o’clock.” After a pause, he continued, “All right then. I decided to take you up on your invitation and come to Barbados to paint.”
“What invitation?”
“The one you extended after your wedding, just before you and Catherine left Sherry’s restaurant to board the yacht. You practically begged me to come.” Byron finished his coconut bread with a look of pleasure.
“You must be joking. Do you imagine that I can remember anything I said that day?”
“And on which day have you been in your right mind?”
For a moment, Adam longed to lift him out of the chair by his lapels and toss him off the steps, but realization dawned that he was actually quite grateful for the abrupt arrival of his old friend. “You’re infuriating, you know, but I am glad to see you.”