Page 6 of Miss Dauntless
Grim humor, because her father had predicted she’d end her days in disgrace, though Papa hadn’t quite got the timing right.
And shame. Always the shame.
“You must not tarry in the cold,” Matilda said, though she was loath to allow anybody to see her home. The place was spotless, also pathetically shabby. “Do come in.”
Tremont had to duck to pass through the doorway. He took off his hat, but did not pass it over.
“I was wondering if you and Tommie might join me for a walk in the park? This is one of those days where it feels colder inside than out, and I am consumed with the need for a constitutional. We could pass by the bakery on our way home if a certain party manages not to fall into the Serpentine or frighten anybody’s horses.”
“He means me,” Tommie said, slipping his hand into Matilda’s. “Say yes, Mama. Please.”
Tommie’s fingers were like ice, while the earl was politely not glancing about at Matilda’s bare floor and curtainless windows. He did not wrinkle his lordly beak at the stink of tallow and coal pervading the air, nor did he press Matilda for an answer.
“The days are getting shorter,” she said, feeling Tommie’s cold fingers right down to her soul, “and the mending will keep. A brief outing to enjoy the sunshine will be good for our spirits.”
Tommie wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed hard. “Thank you, Mama. I will get my coat, and Mr.… Tremont will hold your cloak for you. When I am taller, I will hold your cloak for you too.”
The boy rocketed back to the parlor—he and Matilda wore their outer garments indoors on the coldest days—and the earl took Matilda’s cloak from its hook beside the mirror.
“You have made two fellows exceedingly happy with your decision. When winter arrives in earnest, we’ll consider a day such as this balmy.”
He settled Matilda’s cloak around her shoulders and no doubt noticed the careful stitching that attempted to hide the wear at the collar. The cloak was one of the last fine articles Harry had bought for her, because never let it be said that Harry Merridew’s missus went without.
“I won’t keep you for long,” Tremont said, “and I meant what I said about stopping at the bakery. The boy will hold me to it, and I do fancy a rum bun on such a day.”
“You did not stop by to talk of rum buns, my lord.” Hunger was making Matilda snappish, or perhaps earls paying casual calls did that.
He passed her the gloves sitting on the rickety sideboard. “You are right, and I am an utter failure at small talk, but I cannot appear on your doorstep without making some attempt at polite conversation, can I?”
Tommie thundered back to the door. “I buttoned my coat right this time!”
Tremont tousled his hair. “Because you are desperate to get into the fresh air, but please recall that the bakery will not grace our itinerary unless your behavior is exemplary.”
“Be good,” Matilda said, wrapping a scarf about the boy’s ears, “or no biscuit.”
“I will be a saint, Mama. An angel. I will be perfect, and you will be so proud of me!”
He bolted out the door and up the steps, and true to his stated intentions, he for once stood at the top of the steps and waited for the adults to join him.
Tremont offered his arm, and Matilda had no choice but to take it. At the crossings, Tommie dutifully took her free hand, which was their rule more honored in the breach. When theyreached the park, Tremont suggested that if Tommie ran to the large oak fifty yards off, Tremont would time him.
The earl produced a pocket watch, and Tommie scampered across the grass.
“Is that a trick your sister pulled on you?” Matilda asked.
“My father. I was his only son, a long-awaited miracle, or maybe he understood that he and I might not have long together. The distances gradually got longer, and I picked up speed. Papa made room in his schedule for me, and I adored him. He showed me all the best Viking sailing trees and told me Norse legends when I had nightmares. I understand why my mother so desperately grieved his passing. I suppose you miss your late husband?”
A complicated question. “I’ve been widowed longer than I was married, and yet, sometimes it feels as if I’ll come around a corner, and there Harry will be, grinning at me as if the past few years were just some sort of joke. He had a perverse sense of humor.”
“Any sense of humor must be a boon to those who have one,” Tremont said as Tommie tagged the tree and started back at a trot rather than a sprint. “I could tell you that I was just passing by your door and taken with a sudden notion for some company in the park, but I’d be prevaricating if I did.”
Matilda endured the same sinking dread she’d suffered when she’d realized her courses were late. Tremont was about to proposition her, and he was doing sohonestly.
Damn him for that. “I much prefer plain speaking, my lord.”
Tommie stopped several yards away and flopped dramatically onto a bench.
“I note that your home is not well heated,” Tremont said quietly. “That the boy needs a new coat, that you accepted a coin from me that you’d rather have graciously refused. You aretaking in mending, which is surely the hallmark of a lady fallen upon difficult times.”
