Page 41 of Sleepless in Saunton
He imagined the impossible. That he might come home to find Jane weeping at the rejections of the day, with no hope of him being able to fix it for her. No advice to offer other than to ignore the people who behaved in such a cruel manner. A young woman at the prime of her life, with her entire future ahead of her, and he knew there was only one decision he could make.
But, his own troubles aside, first he needed to assist his mother.
It was some time later when he escorted his mother to the public rooms. Aurora was composed, evidence of her tears had subsided, and her good cheer restored once more. It would seem she had needed time to grieve her disappointment, but now she was leaving the charitable society behind. That chapter was well and truly closed.
Barclay deposited Aurora with the countess and duchess for tea in one of the drawing rooms. Then he steeled his nerve and went to search for Mrs. Gordon.
He donned his beaver, noticing her on the terrace. Striding over, he exited the manor. “Mrs. Gordon?”
The widow turned, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Mr. Thompson! I was hoping to invite you to play nine-pins!”
Barclay ignored the fissure of irritation. Here was a mature woman with a solid reputation who was well aware of the issues she would encounter by his side. A woman who knew the pain of losing her spouse. And as a woman of nearly thirty years of age, it was possible the widow did not want any children, which would be succor to his mind. He could not possibly afflict his bastardy on another child. It was possible that the widow could grant Tatiana increased respectability. So he would play nine-pins for the rest of his days if it protected his mother and his child from further derision.
Eventually he would grow to enjoy it, surely?
He proffered his arm, and the widow gratefully took hold of it. A little more tightly than he was accustomed to, but he was a man of strength and he would grow to like that, too.
Resolutely, he plastered an affable smile on his face and escorted the widow toward the gardens.
* * *
When Jane reachedthe library to drink her coffee, she found Tatiana waiting for her.
One of the maids assigned to the nursery for the house party had recently confided to her that the servants taking care of the children had given up trying to keep track of the little girl. Apparently, Tatiana would occasionally visit the nursery to play with Ethan and the other children, but left without a trace when she grew bored. Radcliffe had informed the countess who had told them to leave the child to her own devices unless Barclay instructed otherwise because it did not seem to be causing any difficulties and Tatiana was clearly independent.
“Have you seen my papa?” the little girl queried as she waited for Jane to pour her coffee.
“I have not, but I just left my bedroom.”
“Oh.” The little girl twirled a silver-blonde lock of hair around her little forefinger, her face thoughtful. “Would you play chess with me? Ethan beat me again. It is quite embarrassing. I am five years older than him!”
Jane smiled. “Of course. I will drink my coffee and then we can play.” The coffee was beckoning vigorously this morning.
Tatiana grinned, then skipped to the window to wait for her. Jane noticed the girl freeze, then press her face to the window as if she were trying to see something more clearly. When she turned around, her face was reddened.
“Are you all right, Tatiana?”
“Uh … I will have to play with you later. There is something I must do.” With that, the little girl raced from the room, her skirts fluttering as her legs pumped across the distance. Jane stared after her, then walked over to the window to see who had distracted the child. Whoever it was, it appeared they had disappeared from view by the time Jane reached the window.
She bit her lip, feeling anxious for Tatiana. Should she follow the girl to find out what had upset her?
* * *
Barclay viewed the pins,which really were too close to make for a challenging game, but it was how the ladies played and so he must engineer some method of enjoying it. Perhaps he could practice knocking down specific pins to hone his skill. His skill in—damnation—nine-pins. He swallowed and assured himself there was a way to make it a passable pastime.
Lifting a ball from the table, he made a show of preparing to bowl. Reaching back, his arm swung forward—
“Papa!” It was practically a shriek. Barclay swung the ball around to knock against his chest. He composed himself for a moment before turning to find his daughter standing a few feet away, her expression outraged.
Turning back to Mrs. Gordon, he forced a smile. “Mrs. Gordon, if you would not mind, I need to speak to my daughter for a moment.”
The widow was unhappy. She grabbed her parasol, opening it up to stroll away. Barclay joined Tatiana and, grabbing her hand, walked her over to the shade of the oak tree. He sat on the bench and lifted his daughter to sit next to him.
“What is it, little one?”
Tatiana fixated on her toes. When she raised her face, he saw tears shimmering on her lashes, her large blue eyes wet, while the feeling of culpability from earlier stabbed him in the chest like a thousand knives. Good Lord, he was bungling his family duties. First, he had failed to help Aurora fulfill her lifelong dream of joining that society of hers, and now Tatiana looked like her heart was breaking.
“Why are you with Mrs. Gordon, Papa?”
