Page 42 of The Marquis, the Minx, and the Mistletoe
"How bloody bad did you think it was going to be?!" Alex asked, turning wide eyes from where he had been inspecting a bit of splintered support beam. "I thought Laughlin was going to cry when we got here."
"My loft fell!" Laughlin said defensively, gesturing to the sagging frame and rags that were left from the bedding there. "It was, for a time, my home!"
"I imagine the lad who sleeps there now is more put out by it than you could possibly be," Sheldon pointed out, doing his best to retain the tone of a peacemaker and not an antagonist. "No one was harmed, and we have more than enough spare lumber and so on to make repairs in a quick and orderly fashion."
"Yes," Gideon agreed grimly, "we have all of those building materials because we can't seem to have a single winter without some sort of disaster befalling the whole blasted county. Thanks be to God that there is no serious damage in the township."
"Because we did good work, after the fire," Alex said. "Relax, please. Your son is about to pull a muscle in his arse and then he'll resemble you forever."
Gideon startled, looking down to where wee Reggie was still doing his best impression of stern and disapproving. He gave a startled laugh, reaching down to rumple his son's hair until the child broke his rigid posture. "What do you say, Reg," he asked his son, "are you up to the task of rebuilding?"
"Oh, yes, Papa," the little boy said, nodding his auburn head with emphatic enthusiasm. "We'll build it just the same, like great-great-grandfather did!"
"And we'll do itwithoutseducing the bishop!" Alex exclaimed, making the other three men shush him. Shushing Alex only ever made him smile. “The old place could probably use some reinforcing, besides,” he continued, unbothered by the rebukes. “I hear Hawk Hill’s renovations are nigh complete?”
Sheldon nodded, suppressing the urge to grimace. “Unless the storm upset their progress, the builders told me they would be finished entirely by the new year.”
“I imagine you’re looking forward to next Christmas at home in Scotland,” Callum said with cheer, unaware of how hard those words thumped into Sheldon’s chest.
Yes. Next year, he would no longer have an excuse to come to Somerton. He did not wish to think about spending the holiday alone within the walls of his castle. Luckily, the distraction of work was an effective one, and conversation soon halted in favor of getting as much restored on the stables as they could before nightfall.
He imagined all of them were grateful for how early the sun began to slink away this time of year. For his part, he’d slept barely at all, and the physical exhaustion of hauling and nailing and bracing new pieces for the stables was tiresome work on a body already begging for rest.
On his way to wash and make himself presentable for dinner, he caught the briefest glimpse of Miss Everstead, who had returned to her primped and pinned former glory, ringlets draped around her delicate ears as she walked the halls with Gloriana. To his relief, she did not spot him, dirty and sweaty as he was, and he was able to escape into the warmth of his room and a thorough bath before descending into the dining room with his stomach grumbling like a discontent bear.
He must take care, he thought, not to wolf down a dozen servings of whatever was on offer tonight like some ravening beast, no matter how much he wanted to. It would not do to startle her off when he had made so much progress in the endeavor of making her his. His body might be sore and starving, but the light-footed euphoria of finally taking a tumble with her could not be dampened so easily. He intended to have many, many more tumbles, in a variety of new and intriguing positions.
He halted his progress near the hallway that led to the nursery, catching sight of the viscountess bent over her younger son's crib, whispering to him as he no doubt was beginning to drift to sleep. It was a sweet sight, and Sheldon paused, as silently as he could, and waited for Rose to finish her motherly duties and join him in the hallway.
She lingered longer than he would have thought, and to his surprise, when she turned to leave the darkened room, she was wiping tears from her eyes with a telltale tinge of emotional pink. She froze, seeing him waiting, and immediately took a sharp breath, blinking rapidly. "Lord Moorvale!" she said bracingly. "I did not see you there."
"I apologize for intruding," he said immediately, rooted to the spot in wide-eyed awkwardness. "I simply thought to walk together to dinner."
"You mustn't heed my silliness," she said with a sniffle and half a smile, swiping at her cheeks. "It was simply the first time I have been apart from the baby for so long. He was alone and likely frightened, and his mother didn't come to coax him to sleep."
"You are a good mother," Sheldon said without thinking, and felt the sentiment and its sincerity from deep within his chest.
"Oh, please," she said on shallow breath, patting his arm. "You needn't flatter me. I apologize for startling you with my antics. Shall we head downstairs?"
He allowed her to take his arm and turn him toward the stairs again, leaving the darkened nursery in their wake. Immediately she seemed to cheer, her posture straightening and her voice strong. It felt so terribly wrong, as though she felt guilty for indulging in something so base as guilt or regret. He had said to Tia just last night that he did not think her capable of sadness, and it felt like rocks in his stomach that he'd said something so stupid. Rose had no idea of the assumption that he'd made, but he knew, didn't he? And that was enough to merit an apology.
"You didn't startle me," he said, coming to a halt and tugging her to stop alongside him.
She turned in open surprise, opening her mouth to perhaps deflect what he had seen away again with some jest or dismissive nicety.
"Rose," he said before she could interrupt him. "I wish I'd had a mother like you. It is an honor to call you a friend."
Her lips closed, her eyes softening, and she gave a trembling smile. "Thank you, Sheldon," she said. "I feel the same."
He held her gaze for a moment to make sure she understood that she knew she did not need to wear the mask of a pleasing hostess in his presence if she did not wish to. He imagined it was simply a force of habit, but still, he ought to have known after so many years that Rose Somers could get sad, just like any other person. Of course she could.
When they turned back to their path, he felt lighter, if not entirely forgiven.
"How did Reggie go around all the work today?" she asked curiously. "He was rather adamant that I leave him with the men, such as he is one."
"He clung to Gideon for most of it. Kept saying things about the ancestor who built the stables and how they'd do him justice, which Alex replied to with the most untoward thing ..."
"The bishop?" she guessed with a sigh and a shake of her golden blonde head. "Alex!"
