Her mother shushed her. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
He smiled and helped Miss Taylor into the coach, handing her valise to Hodner to stow. Removing his hat, he waved at the villagers and then joined Miss Taylor inside the coach, taking the red velvet lined seat opposite hers. Hodner closed the door and Mars stretched his long legs so that he was comfortable. That meant she had to scoot to the side a bit.
Miss Taylor released her breath. “That was a challenge.”
“I appreciate your discretion.”
She nodded and shifted Dora into the cradle of her arm. The baby didn’t wake. He knocked on the roof, a signal they were ready to go.
Within a minute, the coach began moving. At the first feeling of motion, Dora startled. Clarissa held the baby closer and Dora settled against her.
Outside, the villagers stepped back to allow room for the rig to turn in the direction of Belvoir. Hands waved as the coachman called out to the smart stepping horses, and Mars relaxed, pleased with the turn of events.
After a few minutes riding, Miss Taylorsaid in surprise, “This coach seems to skim the earth. I’ve never ridden in anything this smooth. I also understand now why the children wanted to sit inside.” She patted the red velvet. “You enjoy your luxury, my lord.” Her words lacked the critical edge she often used.
“We all should,” he answered. Dora was still sleeping peacefully. “Is it good for her to sleep this much?”
“She has suffered an ordeal. Traveling, having her mother leave her.”
“Do you think she knows?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes,” was the quiet reply, and he realized that she had experienced exactly what Dora had been through. Their gazes met. She looked away.
Immediately, he regretted his question. He should have been more aware, more understanding.
Perhaps Miss Taylor was right about some of his boorish tendencies.
Then, she said, “She won’t remember in the sense that she has details in her mind. However, she’ll know she was left. And she will always wonder.”
“I will see that she suffers no shame from it.”
Again, green, all-seeing eyes met his.
This time, he was the first to look away, embarrassed. What the devil was wrong with him? It had been a long time since a woman had made him feel awkward.
Of course, Clarissa Taylor had always had that power.
She also looked exhausted.
“May I hold the baby?” he asked.
“Of course, my lord. She is your child.” Miss Taylor scooted to the edge of the seat and leaned forward.
He took Dora from her, holding the baby the way Miss Taylor had. For a second he felt stiff. He sat upright, swaying with the coach. Heedless of his discomfort, Dora snuggled in against him with the sweetest sigh he’d ever heard.
And he found himself smiling.Hisdaughter. He’d never been one for children but this was different. She was his.
Slowly, he relaxed, cherishing the feeling of what—? Not being alone?
Such a strange notion. He’d always been alone, even with his friends. He’d had no family since his father’s death. Not one he trusted...
He removed his glove, using his teeth since he didn’t want to disturb Dora, and then he ran the tip of his finger along her cheek. It was as smooth and soft as it looked. She made a face as if his touch had tickled and he smiled before looking up at Miss Taylor to see if she had noticed—
Miss Taylor was asleep.
Her head was tilted downward against the velvet cushion. Her shoulders were slumped, her hand in her lap. He knew she must be past exhaustion to sleep inhispresence. He noticed what he should have seen earlier—deep circles under her eyes. No wonder she had been so touchy.
No, that wasn’t right. Clarissa Taylor had always been prickly.
