Leaning forward he dug his elbows into his thighs, clasped the snifter between his hands. “When I was seven, if the woman who’d given birth to me had come for me, had taken me from you, how would you have felt?”
“My heart would have broken, love. Just as it did when you were twenty-three and taken from me.”
“But you had other children.” Children the footman’s sister didn’t have.
“Dear Finn. No child replaces another. You’re all so different, you see. From the beginning, you were each unique. Mick, he was stubborn, determined to have his way, whether it was the way I held him or fed him—he’d let me know if he didn’t like it. And Aiden, there was always the devil in him. But you, the first time I held you, you burrowed against me and I knew you had a tender heart, a protective nature. So the taking of you, even when you were a wee one, would have broken my heart.”
“Would you have fought to keep me?”
“That’s a question, isn’t it? Having given birth to my own children, and having illness snatch three away from me—well, I know that side of things as well, don’t I? I’d understand a mother’s need to come for her bairn. As long as she loved you proper, I don’t know that I’d have the right not to let her take you.”
“I have a daughter, Mum.”
“Ah, my lovely boy.”
He barely had time to stand before her arms were around him, holding him close, as tears burned his eyes. “She was born while I was in prison. I didn’t know, Mum. I didn’t know I put a babe in Vivi. I thought I knew the price I paid for loving her, and now I’m learning it was so much more costly.”
His mum eased him back into the chair, pulled her footstool over, sat on it, and took his hand in her frail one. But still he felt the strength and love in her touch. He took a shuddering breath. “Vivi’s back in my life. Our little girl lives with another couple. Vivi wants to take her away from them. I’m trying to understand what she’s feeling because it seems so unbelievably cruel to take her from what she’s known. I’m afraid it’s going to tarnish my love for her.”
She rubbed his upper arm. “I don’t know the right answer, pet. Sometimes there isn’t a right answer. But know this. Had you been taken from me I’d have never stopped loving you, never stopped wondering about what you were up to, never stopped worrying over you.”
Chapter 24
Lavinia had been unable to sleep, too many emotions toying with her through the night keeping her awake. The excitement of being able, at long last, to hold her daughter in her arms was beyond bearing. She had spent hours considering all the various frocks she would have sewn for her, the bonnets she would wear, the toys with which she’d play, the books that would be read to her as she was rocked in her mother’s lap. Then like a kaleidoscope pointed toward the sun, the glass turned, and another image came to mind: the sorrow and disappointment easing over Finn’s beloved face like shadows covering the land as night fell.
Dressed in the gray, she left her chambers, striving not to fret about the possibility of encountering Finn. She’d cloistered herself in her rooms after their row. She hadn’t packed up her remaining frock and gown because she would leave them here, taking nothing with her except for the clothes on her back, once again determined to start over—only this time with her daughter by her side.
She would have simply gone down the stairs but caught sight of Robin sitting with his legs crossed beneath him on the landing outside the office door. She needed to take him to the bank and then there were the errands he was to run for them, delivering the invitations, which she didn’t want to think about. She wouldn’t be here when all the ladies arrived, wouldn’t see the success of the place. Perhaps she would read about it.
“Hello, Robin,” she said, heading for the office.
His face brightened, and he nimbly jumped to his feet. “Morning, Miss Kent.”
Ruffling his hair, she walked by him and into the office, surprised Finn wasn’t yet there. “We’ll have to search Mr. Trewlove’s desk to see if we can find your bank draft.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
Turning, she noticed there seemed to be movement in his jacket. He reached inside and pulled out a tiny kitten.
“Ye was so sad yesterdee, I thought this would help.” He held the ball of white fur toward her. “He’s so small I don’t think he’ll make a good mouser, but I think he’ll be a good snuggler. I tested him last night, sleeping with him and all, and he snuggled right fine.”
“Oh.” Tears stinging her eyes at his thoughtfulness, she took the offering, smiling as the kitten mewled. “Where did you get him?”
“One of the cats I cares for that keeps the mice away—she had a bunch of babies. She made a loudmeowwhen I took the kitten, but Gillie says she’ll forget I took it after a while, cuz animals don’t keep their babies with them.”
“No, I don’t suppose they do.” Not like people, not like her, who had never been able to forget the infant she’d brought into the world. “I think you might be wrong, though, about his mousing capabilities. He just needs to grow a bit.”
“You like him, then?”
“I do indeed, very much.”
The lad puffed out his chest, rocked back on his heels, clearly delighted at the notion of pleasing her. She was going to miss him when she left here, although perhaps when she was properly situated she could find errands for him to run.
“What have we here?” Finn asked, standing in the doorway, looking a bit like death warmed over.
“Are you unwell?” she asked.
“Head hurts. Got foxed last night, did something stupid, which caused me to get foxed some more. A kitten?”
