Chapter Thirty-Five

For the rest of that day and all of the next, Kit sought out every opportunity to add a bit of fun to the enormous amount of cleaning and rearranging. The children held races to see who could dust to the end of a table first, made up stories about the paintings they uncovered, and tried to tie back the bed-curtains using only their toes.

Through it all was Graham, encouraging them, giving them ideas, pulling Kit into one ridiculous situation after another.

It had been a rather wonderful two days, and she would treasure them forever. When they left this place and Graham left their lives, she would always remember that, for a while, she’d known a good man.

Kit walked out onto the back porch, cup of tea in her hand. How many more evenings did she, Jess, and Daphne have with this view? How much longer would they gather to watch the moon on the lake and the breeze in the shifting shadows of the dark trees?

The door behind her opened and she looked over her shoulder, not very surprised to see that it was Graham joining her instead of Daphne. It had been a strange two days, and ever since the rope incident, it seemed everyone had been conspiring to put them in the same room together.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” he asked gently.

Kit shook her head. She’d gone over and over the options. There were places they could live temporarily, but the truth was that not only were they losing the place to live, they would be losing the income and allowances that taking care of the house came with. The money they made at the markets wasn’t enough to live on by itself, especially as they were soon to lose the goats and the garden, because finding a place for the children to live was difficult enough. They certainly weren’t going to find a place that would accommodate livestock and a large plot of vegetables.

“I have a house,” Graham murmured, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. “It’s bigger than Haven Manor, though I don’t think my mother would understand stripping the house of all the furniture, so we may have to teach the children not to knock over the tables.”

Kit laughed. The delicate and beautiful furniture hadn’t been in the house for an entire day before one of the tables had been knocked over by three children racing through the front hall. Fortunately, it hadn’t broken, but it was still evidence that they’d been right to store the furniture in the first place.

Graham continued speaking, quietly, almost hesitantly. “You wouldn’t be isolated like you are here, but there could be advantages to that. More exposure to life and the different types of people in it. It’d be different—”

“We can’t live in your house,” Kit said, breaking into Graham’s sentence. “Can you imagine? A future earl with a house full of illegitimate children? They slaughtered me for far less, and I was only the daughter of a baron.”

It was a valid argument, and one that Kit believed in strongly. She couldn’t see Graham as having anything but a charmed life. Most of his stories had happy middles as well as happy endings. Publicly aligning himself with Kit and the children could ruin that. “Besides,” Kit said, “living in your house wouldn’t allow Daphne and me to remain hidden.”

“That’s important to you?” he asked. “That you remain hidden away from the world?”

She picked at a rough spot on the stone railing. “It was the agreement we made with our fathers. That all association would end, and we’d give no one reason to remember the story and talk about it again.”

“Your father has never been invited to Grandridge Hall, so the chances of you encountering him are extremely low.”

Kit looked at her fingers and then lifted her gaze to his. She might as well tell him the real reason she couldn’t consider moving the children to his estate, even if it would seemingly solve all of their problems. She would tell him why she couldn’t, and she would look him in the face while she did it. It was fear that had driven her to hide like a coward and confront men from the shadows.

She couldn’t do the same to him.

“What happens when you marry?” The words nearly choked her because they flooded her mind with images of him smiling at another woman the way he smiled at her, kissing another woman the way he’d kissed her, making another woman laugh. It hurt because that woman wouldn’t be—couldn’t be—Kit. “Your wife won’t want a dozen children she didn’t birth underfoot. She won’t want to have to explain to her friends why she can’t hold a country house party because it would raise too many questions.”

Instead of nodding sagely at the wisdom of Kit’s point, Graham grinned at her. “I know the perfect solution.”

Kit couldn’t help but smile back. There was something about the way Graham looked at her that pulled a bit of joy from the depths of a soul she thought was too tired to feel that lightness anymore. “What?”

He leaned in close and whispered, “I could marry you.”

Hearts weren’t supposed to pound as hard as Kit’s was just then, especially not when she was doing nothing but standing still. He looked as surprised by the statement as she was. As if he hadn’t meant to toss that idea out there, but now that it had been spoken, he couldn’t help but think about what it would mean.

Neither could she. The images she’d had in her head shifted, and it was Kit growing old with him. Kit making him smile.

Kit showing up at his side in London and bringing all the rumors back to life.

Kit looking over her shoulder, terrified that someone would put the pieces together and figure out what she’d done.

Kit turning Graham into a recluse because he loved her too much to put her through the terror of being recognized. He would lose a part of himself that mattered so much. Graham craved people. He was good with people. God had gifted him with the ability to relate to people of every walk and station, and such a gift shouldn’t be hidden away and shared with a select few.

She swallowed and forced herself to look at him. “I can’t marry you.”

“I know.” His smile drooped. “On second thought, no, I don’t. I thought I could walk away from you and not look back, but life brought me right back here. And I can see you’re different, Kit. I know I’ve changed. I’m not in the habit of turning God down when He gives me a second chance.”

One side of Kit’s mouth quirked up. “And how often has that happened?”

He shrugged. “This is the first that I’ve truly noticed, but I think it’s a good principle.”

The other side of her lips lifted until she was wearing a full smile, even as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “You deserve someone who can stand by your side without looking over her shoulder.” She took a deep breath. “These children . . . I realize I can’t earn grace and forgiveness, but caring for them, helping them, allows me to be a better person, the person God would want me to be. He’s giving me a second chance. This time I’m going to think of someone else’s needs before I consider my own.

“And Graham,” she said quietly as tears pooled onto her lashes and a single tear escaped from each eye, “I’m not what you need.”

He swallowed and braced his hands, not turning his face or letting his gaze drop. “And if you’re what I want?”

“Then I’ll protect you from yourself. Because I love you too much to do anything else.” She hadn’t meant to tell him that she loved him. That had been a secret she was going to carry with her, knowing he would feel the heaviness of her love even as she felt the lightness.

His mouth pressed into a thin line and wrinkles appeared at the corners of his beautiful eyes as pain etched across his face.

But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to change her mind, which she was grateful for, because he would have been able to. With a few well-placed words, she would have fallen at his feet, claiming love could conquer all and they could forge through life together, but the truth was, Kit didn’t want to stop helping women. She didn’t want these children to be the last. She wasn’t sure how they would support the women and children from here on out, but she knew she wanted to.

One thing was certain, though—she was hanging up her deep-hooded grey cloak for good. No more Governess roaming the streets of London like a menace. She would find another way, because standing with her shoulders back and her head tall as she faced a problem felt good. It felt brave.

She thought about that as she turned and walked away before he could say anything. She would be brave and not wait for him to convince her to claim what she wanted instead of what he needed.

She crawled into bed and fell asleep thinking of bravery and pondering the rest of her life.

What did she want to teach the women she was helping? What did she want to show the children she was raising? Was she really doing them a favor by hiding them out here in the woods?

Kit didn’t have all the answers—didn’t even possess half of them—but she did know one thing. She wanted to move forward with the past in the past. Which meant she had a few more demons to face.

She was up and dressed and already on the road to Marlborough when the first slashes of pink crossed the sky.

She was so early, in fact, that Nash hadn’t yet gotten to his office.

The stage from London had come in, though, and it seemed God was guiding her timing without her knowing. Because getting off the stage and walking into The Castle Inn was the very man she’d come to town to talk to Nash about.

Nash paused as he came around the corner. “I was planning on coming out to the manor today.”

Kit nodded. “Lord Eversly is back.”

Keys jangled as Nash spun his body around to look up and down the street. “How do you know?”

“Because I saw him get off the stage fifteen minutes ago.” Kit couldn’t help but grin along with the matter-of-fact statement. Then her grin fell as she continued. “He’s at the inn across the street. I want to go see him.”

Nash sighed and opened the lock on his office door. “Twelve years,” he mumbled. “We made it twelve years without drawing the slightest bit of attention. Why now?”

“If I had to guess, Lord Eversly is a bit more determined to keep his money than others were. He’s probably made a bit more of a disturbance. It doesn’t really matter. To be honest, the secret has held longer than it should. We’re going to keep helping children and women, but we’ve all decided to do it a bit differently. But moving forward means tying up the loose ends of the past.”

Nash looked at her for a moment before nodding and pulling the door closed once more. “I’m going with you.”

She had been preparing herself to go alone, but she had to admit to feeling a certain relief that Nash would be there with her.

“One last run for The Governess, hmm?” she asked as she wiped suddenly sweaty palms on her skirt. She wished she had her cloak, wished she could protect her identity so that whatever they chose to do in the future wouldn’t be marred by her mistakes. But he’d already seen her, likely already suspected who she was. If he knew who she’d been, there was nothing Kit could do about it except hope and pray that he kept the knowledge to himself.

Crossing the street to The Castle Inn, her boots dragged like when she had to walk through the mud and rain to tend the chickens and goats. The fact that the sun was shining and she was treading on firm cobblestones mattered little. The voice that had told her to be brave the night before was now screaming through her head that this was too scary. She should start with something smaller.

But this was what needed to be done.

Lord Eversly must have been watching because he was waiting at the door to his room when Kit and Nash got to the top of the stairs and rounded the corner. He was silent and brooding, just as he’d been the last time she saw him, and Kit almost turned and ran. One step at a time, though, she made her way to the door.

“I’m assuming you’re here to talk,” she said in a low voice as she stopped in front of him.

Lord Eversly stepped back into his room, leaving the door open for Kit and Nash to follow. This was it, then. They were going to step into that room and see what they were dealing with.

The first thing Kit noticed when she stepped inside was the chessboard sitting on a table in the corner of the room.

“I see you received the chessboard,” Kit said, clasping her hands in front of her. “You’ve been released from your contract. It’s not because you came here, but using your past against you is the very thing I wanted to save women from. Doing it to you, well”—Kit took a deep breath—“it was wrong. And I’m sorry and—”

“I don’t want the chessboard,” he said in a low, rough tone, his voice rumbling like a rarely opened drawer that grinds over its slides.

Kit blinked. “I’m sorry? Of course, if you want to keep supporting your child, we’ll accept the money. We just don’t want you under the forced obligation to do so.”

“I don’t want the chessboard,” he said again. “I want my son. Or daughter. I don’t even know which my child is, but I’ve come to claim him.”

Shock made Kit’s limbs freeze. He could have run at her with a knife raised, and she wouldn’t have been able to move. “Claim him?”

He nodded. “Like you, I’ve had some time to think about the way I’ve done things, the way I’ve lived my life. I’m not proud of it, but I’m ready to take responsibility for it. Including the care of my child. Lady Caroline married, but I’m sure you know that. I wrote to her, telling her what I intended to do and that she had nothing to fear. I wouldn’t name her, wouldn’t tell the child.”

Nash stepped forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with Kit. “You want to raise your child? Claim your child?”

He nodded. “I have an estate in Kent. There’s a governess already stationed there, ready and waiting for me to return with my son. Or daughter. I think in my mind it’s always been a son, but I’ve no idea why. I’ve no reason to think that.”

“Son,” Kit croaked out. “You have a son.”

Through the buzz in her head, she heard Graham telling her that she hadn’t given the men a chance to do the right thing, feeding on their panic of the moment and making the decisions for them.

Yes, it had been eight years, but would Lord Eversly have made the decision sooner if he could have? Would he even have decided to marry the mother and make the child a true son?

She would never know.

He tapped a finger against the chessboard. “Giving this to me now means I don’t have a complete set.”

Kit’s mouth fell open.

“I’d like to buy the rest of the set.” A wry smile flashed on his face before it fell back into its stoic lines. “Maybe not at the price I was paying for each piece before, but I’d like the set.”

“Your son . . .” Kit swallowed, not sure what to feel about a change of events that she’d never seen coming. “I don’t know. . . . He doesn’t know you.”

Lord Eversly nodded. “I’ll stay here for as long as I have to. You’ve taken care of my son his entire life, and I thank you for that, but it’s time I did what I should have done earlier. I don’t want to cause problems for you, Miss, well, whatever your name is, but the boy’s past the age of seven. As I’m sure Mr. Banfield here can tell you, I have every right to claim custody of him.”

Kit didn’t need to ask Nash. She knew the law. It was the very same one she had threatened putative fathers with to get them to support the child.

The panic Kit thought she should feel didn’t materialize. Instead, there was a sense of rightness to the idea. Blake was going to live his entire life with the stigma of illegitimacy no matter what Kit did. But she couldn’t deny him the opportunity for a life like this man could give him.

“I’ll bring Blake to meet you,” she said after they stared at each other for several moments.

His breath seemed to deflate from his chest and the first flicker of emotion crossed his face. “Blake? His name is Blake?”

“Yes. We allow the mothers to name the child if they wish, and Lady Caroline chose to do so. Is it a significant name to you?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s just that for all the time I’ve been thinking about him he didn’t have a name. I could only call him my child because I didn’t even know if he was a boy. But I have a name now. Blake.”

“We’ll choose somewhere the boy is comfortable for the meeting.” Kit racked her brain for somewhere she could take Blake, somewhere safe for him and her and everyone involved, somewhere Lord Eversly couldn’t grab him and run. “I’ll send you word with a time and location.”

He nodded, the emotion deepening across his face but not in any way that Kit could identify. It was as if he felt so much that it leaked out between the cracks of his normally serious expression. “Please,” he said quietly, “make it soon. I’ve waited so long to meet my son.”

Kit nodded, but as she and Nash left, her mind was buzzing with the implications. How was she going to explain this to Blake? And what were the others going to think? Would it give them a baseless hope or leave them stricken with doubt? Because the question was going to arise: If one parent had come looking, why hadn’t any of the others?