Chapter 4

It had been hours now, but it seemed as though her breathing would never find its normal ebb and flow. From the moment the man in black had come racing out of the night and leaped from his horse onto her carriage she’d been sure she’d drawn her last breath.

And then he’d begun to pummel Blackboot’s man. The answering flurry of fists had left the carriage reins flapping wildly as the ruffian toppled the man in black onto the roof, and as the thin leather split they plummeted into the carriage. The man in black threw one more brutal blow, knocking the ruffian sideways and out of the carriage to disappear down into the canal.

Only then had she realized who he was.

Eleanor forced herself to count steadily as she drew in a calming breath. Even now—in the light of day, standing here in her own drawing room—remembering the whole ordeal set her trembling. They’d circled back to collect Carruthers and Willie. But not before Captain Parker had taken her hands, swept her hair back from her face, and asked if she was alright.

Not before she’d thrown herself into his arms and wept.

. . .

Caleb walked slowly, savoring the sun on his aching muscles as he worked the kinks from his bruised shoulders and arms. Last night he’d felt nothing but relief. Today he wasn’t so sure. The Countess of Grattling had flung herself into his arms and clung to him as if he were more than just a man who’d saved her from the jaws of hell. And that would never do.

Even worse was his own reaction. When he had seen the old Clarence careening down Limehouse Cut, whipping from side to side on the narrow roadway, he’d been certain it would crash before he could get to her. Closer and closer he’d come, even as his heart drew tighter and tighter in his chest. She would be thrown into the freezing, filthy canal waters, or dashed against the stone wall on the other side. Either way, she wouldn’t survive.

He’d felt more than a rescuer who feared he might fail his damsel. He’d felt the incredible loss the world would suffer if this good woman didn’t survive. The loss to the children. The loss to him.

The horror of it had spurred him on, urging Apollo mercilessly to draw close enough that he could jump onto the carriage. In a flash of fists she was safe.

He needed to see her now, to know she’d recovered from the night’s misadventure. But he feared that would be a misadventure of another sort and kept himself and his dithering emotions far from the beautiful Lady Eleanor. Of necessity he had avoided her at breakfast, leaving word that he was making a thorough inspection of the grounds. Carruthers was adequate to give him all the information he needed. Now he was glad he’d chosen that route. A little distance was beginning to restore him.

Southern Oaks was a sprawling estate that was perfect to house more than fifty children, as well as a staff nearly half that size. The gray stone manor house was built on four floors and boasted two matching wings with twenty bedrooms in each wing. The ground floor of the east wing included a study, a massive library, several receiving rooms, an enormous dining area, as well as a small breakfast room. The second floor of the west wing included Lady Eleanor’s private suites.

The third floor of the manor house was devoted to school rooms, a colorful play area with more toys and games than Caleb was sure any of the children had ever seen prior to coming to Southern Oaks, and a nursery. There were also designated bedrooms for several of the staff so they would always be close to the children.

Caleb was impressed by the obvious planning that had converted a country estate into a home for children. In fact, he was impressed by everything about Southern Oaks. And its mistress.

“Have you found everything to your satisfaction?” Lady Eleanor asked, having sought him out when he returned from his tour of the house.

“A couple of locks need to be replaced, but other than that it’s more than satisfactory, my lady. You’ve made a paradise for children. I doubt they’ll ever want to leave.”

She smiled. “Did you see Robby?”

Caleb grinned. “I did. Your choice of bunkmates was perfect.”

“And has Carruthers shown you your quarters?”

“He would have, but I’m perfectly fine with sleeping in the back room of the stable, my lady.”

“I’ll not have you sleep in the stable, Captain. There are enough rooms at Southern Oaks for each of the children to have their own rooms, if that would be best for them. But we find they adjust better and form friendships easier if they room together. You, however, require adequate quarters. A bedroom, of course, and a sitting room with a desk for conducting business. Follow me,” she said, leading the way to the back part of the main floor.

Caleb followed her to the rear of the foyer, then down a hallway that he already knew led to the kitchen stairs. A cot in the scullery would be more than adequate.

But Lady Eleanor didn’t proceed down the long hall. Instead she opened a door, and Caleb followed her into the room that she evidently intended to be his. It was the grandest room he’d ever occupied except when he’d stayed with Ford, or Hugh, or Jeb. Even with its massive bed, the room was still large. And the bed would clearly accommodate his six-foot, four-inch frame. An alcove near a large armoire held a washstand, mirror and towel rack. A door finished in the same manner as the wall led to a small anteroom complete with desk, four side chairs, and a well-stocked sideboard.

“Will this meet your needs?” she asked. Her voice was tense, unnatural, not the warm, dulcet tones of yesterday. Perhaps the night’s escapade still rested harshly on her. Caleb turned to look at her. The simple memory of the desperate rescue showed him the source of her agitation. It had begun the moment she’d drawn herself out of his arms.

She was embarrassed.

“It will more than meet my needs,” he answered her quietly.

“Very good,” she said, then backed toward the door. “Please let me know if there’s anything else you require.”

“Where does this door lead?” Caleb pointed to the door in a recess set between two windows.

Lady Eleanor stepped past him and opened it, then led him out onto a private veranda. He was pleased that he would have easy access to and from the outside.

“Those steps lead down to the larder and kitchens.” She pointed to a half-cellar entrance, then swept her hand up to indicate a second floor balcony. “My room is there.”

And there was that blush again.

She swept back past him. “Well then, if there’s nothing else I’ll just—”

He reached a hand to stop her. “Actually, there is.” The morning gown she wore had long, billowing lace sleeves, but somehow his hand connected with her flesh. It was warm, soft. Lovely.

She turned and broke their brief contact.

He grinned and raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, duchess.” Her look of consternation confirmed that she was about to give him a good lecture, so he spoke before she had the chance.

“What men do you have available to guard the children and the house?”

She thought for a moment. “There’s Willie, of course. And Carruthers. Then there are Frank and Jamie. They work in the stables. And George and Cyril. They care for the lawns.”

“I’d like to meet with them if you don’t mind,” Caleb said.

“Of course not. May I ask why?”

“Considering what happened last night, and the threat Blackboot’s henchman brought right to your doorstep, I consider it wise to be on the alert. I intend to use the men to keep watch for anything unusual.”

“I see. You think the children might be in danger.”

Even after last night she still didn’t realize her own peril. She only thought of the children.

“It never hurts to be prepared,” he answered.

“Yes of course. I would be grateful to have a plan in place.”

She turned to leave, but Caleb stopped her yet again. “Thank you for the room. It was very thoughtful of you.”

Her smile seemed a bit brittle. “I’ll have someone bring your belongings in from the stable. Then I’ll tell Carruthers to gather the men. You can meet with them in your sitting room, or in the room next to the study, if you prefer.”

She reached for the door, then turned back. “You do know there’s a difference between a duchess and a countess, don’t you?”

Caleb laughed. “I do indeed, my lady, and yet on occasion it seems to me that my duchess and my countess have more in common than one might think.”

He’d clearly caught her off guard with his answer, and after a moment’s hesitation she swept out of the room, leaving him to wonder just exactly what she thought of his mischievous remark.