“Mrs. Hudson.” Tom rose, warmth in his tone, and offered the woman a one-armed hug. “And Miss Ainsley,” he added, brushing a large hand over the red curls that escaped the bundle. “How are my two favorite ladies this morning?”
“Charm away, lad. The raspberry tarts are all gone.”
“Even for me?” His smile was bright, charming.
“Especially for you.”
He pulled back with a gasp, clutching his chest in false pain. “You wound me!”
“More people ought to say no to you, then it wouldn’t be so distressing.”
“Mrs. Hudson! I cannot believe you to be so cruel. And in front of the child!”
“Yes, yes. Speaking of the babe…”
Tom’s smile grew even as he rolled his eyes. “Hand her over.”
“It’s only that the new lad Anna has hired…”
“Isn’t playing with a full deck,” he supplied, reaching to take the girl.
“It wasn’t I that said it.”
Tom settled the babe against his chest with one long arm. “Go, supervise.”
She cupped his cheek. “Good lad. There’s a raspberry tart in the oven for you if he hasn’t burnt them all.”
Tom’s eyes widened as he tipped his head toward the kitchens. “Go! Go quickly! Go now!”
He watched as the woman rounded the counter in a flurry of skirts, then met Mrs. Ainsley’s mouthedThank youwith a nod before he turned back to me.
After he settled back into his chair, feet again tucked awkwardly around the legs, I offered a dry, “Uncle Tom?”
His answering flush was endearing. “Mrs. Hudson was our cook. And my mother—well, anyone would’ve been better. But there isn’t anyone better than Mrs. Hudson. Besides, I’m already little Henry’s favorite uncle. I need to win over Miss Emma here as well.”
The girl in question snuck a hand out from the blankets. Tom quickly supplied a finger for her to tug at. When he peered back up at me from beneath lowered lashes, my heart gave a disgruntled tug. He presented an impossible picture, but all the more breathtaking for it.
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I do not suppose I shall ever be an uncle—at least not while Davina continues to be… herself.”
“Family is what you make of it. After all, in Scot—” A great crash from the direction of the kitchens echoed throughout the room. Before I’d even recognized that he’d moved, Tom was out of his seat and halfway to the counter with the babe still in his arms, now offering a displeased cry.
Mrs. Ainsley wore a torn expression and wavered between the line of startled customers and what was surely chaos beyond the closed door.
Wordlessly, Tom shooed her toward the door and turned to the line of customers while still balancing the babe in one arm. Mrs. Ainsley hesitated only for a moment before disappearing into the kitchens.
Tom, on the other hand, soothed the infant back to quiet while fetching a requested pastry. He had to pause to check the cost from the little slip of parchment on the window before taking the gentleman’s money.
The sight was so odd, so unexpected, that it took several moments to comprehend. Tom was just… selling pastries. With an infant on his hip. He was slow, clearly unpracticed, and he struggled to manage the work one-handed. The queue was lengthening by the moment. But he was muddling through.
There was something unbearably appealing about the sight, the way he directed the small turmoil into something neat and orderly. No one questioned his authority or his presence. The very evidence of his competence left me with a flush curling up to my cheeks. What would it be like—to have someone to silently step in, share the load, carry the burden for a few short minutes? It would be intoxicating, addictive. I was certain of it.
This man,this manwas flustered byme. It was a heady thought, one that left my stomach twisting with delight.
I was so entranced by the display that I didn’t even recognize his need for assistance before Mrs. Ainsley and Mrs. Hudson returned. The elder took her granddaughter from Tom’s arms. He murmured something to her and she disappeared back into the kitchen before returning with an overflowing bag. A hint of guilt welled in my chest, I had been exceptionally unhelpful.
“I’ve got the raspberry. If you’ve never had them, they’re my favorite. There’s a few almond as well.” He explained as he pawed through the bag, distracted and looming over my seated form.
“Those are yours. You earned them.”
