Page 21 of It Happened in the Highlands
At the Tower House, Jo had seen and spoken to many troubled children. Many were entirely capable of inflicting harm on themselves and others. But there was real remorse in Cuffe’s tone. And his obvious shock at the way the events had unfolded indicated that there was a great deal more to this than simply a youth intent on doing mischief.
“Those attendants downstairs are responsible men,” Wynne told her. “We’ve never had an incident like this at the Abbey. My guess is that none of it was accidental. It may have been intentional. Someone slipped into the ward, freed Stevenson, and moved the hat to give him a target for his rage. Why someone would do such a thing is hard to fathom.”
Jo remained silent, unwilling to offer anything. She already knew the identity of the culprit.
Wynne’s gaze moved past her shoulder down the hallway. She imagined Cuffe could be hiding in the shadows there.
“When you came out of your room earlier, did you see anyone?”
She knew he had a right as the father to know, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Cuffe was already feeling the grave significance of his actions. Still, she imagined there was something more behind the child’s actions.
She opened her mouth to convey to him what she knew. She had every intention of at least telling Wynne she’d encountered Cuffe in the stairwell. But different words spilled out.
“No, I didn’t see anyone.”
* * *
Wynne saw a movement by the door to the rooms he and Cuffe shared. After the afternoon lessons with Cameron, the lad had been directed back to his room, where a supper tray was waiting. He was not to stir until tomorrow morning, when he would return to the tutor.
A thought crossed fleetingly through Wynne’s mind whether Cuffe could have had anything to do with what happened downstairs. He immediately dismissed it. In the two months since he’d arrived here, the ten-year-old had shown no interest in the hospital or the patients, despite Dermot’s repeated invitations. And getting tricked into letting the pigs into the garden had been the extent of any damage he’d caused. Wynne was fairly certain his son would never do anything to injure an innocent person.
Jo turned and followed the direction of his gaze. “I was hoping to meet your son while I’m here.”
Her gentle words startled him and drew his attention back to her. Jo’s face was calm, pensive, concerned. She was an exceptional woman. Wynne had ended their engagement less than a fortnight before their wedding. He’d never been able to find the opportunity to apologize, other than in a brief note. He’d left her alone to deal with the aftermath. He’d married another woman and had a child. But in spite of it all, here she was expressing an interest in meeting Cuffe. She’d always been patient and kind, but Jo Pennington carried within her a dignity he’d been too young to truly appreciate all those years ago.
“Is there a chance we might be introduced tomorrow before I leave the Abbey?”
“I’ll be sure to make the arrangements,” he declared. “I’d like him to meet you.”
Before I leave.The notion of Jo leaving so soon did not sit well with him. Even though the question of the drawings and the reaction of the Bartons had not been resolved, a door had been opened. She could pursue it on her own.
He admired Jo’s face in the flickering light of the candle. He watched the gentle pulse along the pale column of her throat.
She’d be better off going, he told himself. They’d all be better off. His conversation with Dermot earlier had left him strangely unsettled, and he didn’t like the feeling. He didn’t like the way he needed to monitor them as the young scoundrel tried to entertain Jo over dinner. Wynne wanted his deuced life back to normal.
And yet, memories of the past continued to flood back to him.
He remembered sitting with her on a warm night in a wooded lane by the Cascade in Vauxhall Gardens. The taste of the soft skin beneath her earlobe mingled with the scent of summer flowers. His own wonder at her innocent, wide-eyed response as she tried to make sense of the desire charging the air between them.
She pushed a stray ringlet behind an ear and he struggled not to touch the waves of gleaming dark hair falling nearly to her waist. He’d lost count of how many times as a young man he’d imagined seeing Jo’s silky hair spread across his pillow.
A handful of kisses. Only once, in the shadow of a rose trellis during a ball, had those kisses led to a passionate whirlwind of caresses. That was the extent of the liberties he’d taken. He wouldn’t make love to her, though he knew she would have given herself to him. But the malicious whispers had already begun, and in those moments of youthful gallantry, he wouldn’t risk adding further damage to her reputation. At least this is what he kept telling himself. But in the end, he’d wounded her more deeply than any malevolent backbiter.
“Must you leave so soon?” he heard himself asking. “After everything we saw today, it’s clear Charles Barton’s progress could be dramatically improved if you were to extend your stay.”
And it wasn’t only for Barton’s sake that he was asking.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Her dark gaze met his. “Dr. McKendry mentioned the name of an inn at Rayneford Village this afternoon. I’ll send my manservant down there tomorrow and make arrangements to stay for a few more days.”
“There’s no need to leave the Abbey,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay right here. If the rooms you’re occupying now suit you, you can remain where you are.”
Where he’d be able to chaperon that scurvy sawbones, Wynne thought.
“But I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
“You could be nothing of the kind,” he insisted, already feeling better about the new arrangement. “Everyone at the Abbey will benefit and take pleasure in your company.”
Andthatincluded himself.
