“I fear Miss Leah has overexerted herself,” said Judith, casting another worried glance in the child’s direction.
Mr. Byrnes squatted down to his daughter’s level and smiled at her. “Would you like to see the ship?”
Leah bounced on her toes and clapped her hands with a broad grin. Turning her gaze up to Judith, she asked, “Can I go?”
The child looked quite pleased with the prospect, but Judith recognized the warning signs hovering nearby. However, it was not her place to contradict her employer, and Mr. Byrnes already looked displeased that Leah had looked to Judith for permission.
Snatching her up, Silas tossed her into the air, though the ceiling didn’t allow him to do more than a small toss.
“You want to see the ships?” he asked while spinning her in place. Leah’s laughter wavered, her expression pinching.
“Mr. Byrnes—” began Judith, but the fellow wasn’t listening. He continued to jostle Leah about, unaware that he had primed and loaded the cannon, so to speak. The child’s expression pinched, her brows pulling down low as she opened her mouth and wretched, casting up everything he’d given her that afternoon all over his chest. Extending his arms, Mr. Byrnes tried to hold her away from him, but the damage was done. Great rivers of sick streamed down his front and gathered at his feet.
Planting her hands on her hips, Helen jutted up her chin at her papa. “I told you she’d eaten too many sweets!”
*
Years aboard a ship had taught Silas more about sick than any man ought to know. Though he’d never suffered from seasickness, there was always one or two aboard whose sea legs were unsteady at first or whose constitutions couldn’t weather a gale. Silas had spent more than a few hours trapped in tight confines with the smell of it curdling the already putrid air. But it was another thing entirely to have it seeping into his linens and feeling the rivulets creeping down his thighs.
The carriage ride home did not improve the situation. Leah decided she did not care for being held by him, but as everyone else had escaped the mess, Silas was forced to hold onto the slippery, squirmy, squealing little thing. How did a child not yet in her third year of life wriggle free of every hold? Her talent for grappling would make grown men proud.
It took all of Miss Delmonte’s skills to keep Griffith from diving into the middle of the mess. Though the governess did not say a single word against him, Silas felt her silent reproach. This outing had been an atrocious idea, and he ought not to have attempted it without her assistance. Of course, Helen did not bother with subtlety, choosing to glare at him from her seat opposite. She snuggled next to Miss Delmonte, looking at him with open disdain, leaving Silas to wonder if she’d orchestrated Leah’s spectacular display as retribution.
Many of his staff would curse him today. Between their clothes, the carriage, the office rug, and the trails left behind on the floor, there would be plenty of scrubbing done tonight. Silas doubted the rug in his office was salvageable, and it might be wiser to simply toss his clothes and buy a whole new set.
Soon enough (though not soon enough for his taste), they were deposited at home. The hour was late enough that the day was a loss, so there was no returning to the office, and Silas handed the children over to their nursemaid and governess’s care and escaped to his bedchamber.
It took several scrubbings before Silas fully cleaned off the residue, though it would be some time before the memory of today’s failure would wash away. What had hoped to be an entertaining afternoon with his children, which would serve as the foundation of this new era together, had proved a disaster. Surely, that was an ill omen.
Eschewing his tailcoat, Silas embraced the comfort of his dressing gown. There were no social calls to be paid or dinners to attend, so he was free to have a quiet evening at home. No doubt, Hatch would do the same, but Silas doubted the young man had any insights into the present situation in which he’d found himself, and Silas longed for someone to speak some sense to him and help him sort out this mess.
Silas wandered into the library, for it was a far more comforting space than his study. No work awaited him here, so it was the perfect haven from the rest of his troubles. Flames crackled in the fireplace, and Silas was pleased to see it; though spring was well underway, winter’s chill had not yet lifted, and today had been brisker than expected. Being wrapped in his dressing gown and seated beside a fire in an overstuffed armchair was precisely what he needed.
Eventually, the maid brought him a tea tray, and Silas availed himself of the treats, which added to the general peace he sought at present. TheHotspurhad been a fine vessel, and Captain Ivins was known to keep a fine table, but even a good spread aboard a vessel was a pale imitation of what one found on land, and Deborah had a talent for finding talented cooks. Unfortunately, thoughts of the failed outing lingered, pricking at him as he availed himself of Cook’s plum cake and nut bamboons.
What father couldn’t manage his children for an afternoon? Despite the distance, he’d maintained a relationship with his eldest son, though Silas supposed it was an unfair comparison. His correspondence with Felix had forged much of that connection, and while the others could read and write to varying degrees, they were all too dependent on their mother to convey his letters. Had Deborah bothered reading his missives aloud to the children, or had they had been left in ignorance? But Silas banished that thought. Whatever difficulties lie between them, his wife had not been vindictive or cruel enough for that.
If only Felix would return home. No doubt, he’d help bridge the gap between his father and siblings, but it was some weeks before the end of term. Though Silas longed to take him from school early, Felix’s education must not be made to suffer simply because his father was impatient. And a tad selfish.
No, aid must come from a different quarter.
A sennight since their reunion, but the children had hardly warmed to him at all, and whatever progress he’d made was likely damaged by his performance this afternoon. Silas rubbed at his face, sliding lower into his armchair, and stared at the crackling flames. Shifting his feet, he placed them on the ottoman, angling them towards the heat as he pondered his predicament.
A knock sounded at the door, and Silas called for the person to enter. Then the solution to his dilemma swept into the room.
Chapter 8
“You wished to see me, sir?” asked Miss Delmonte, standing within his line of sight but remaining a fair distance away. That mask of deferential aloofness was back in place, and as much as Miss Delmonte acted as though it was her natural state, Silas had seen too much of the lady to believe it. If nothing else, her performance with the children that afternoon had made him certain. She presented a cold facade to him, but Silas was certain she had spirit and warmth hidden beneath it.
Silas motioned for her to take the armchair that sat beside him, angled toward the fireplace and each other. Miss Delmonte paused for only a moment before doing as bidden; when she met his eyes, Silas saw a bit of fire burning there, and he wagered she was unhappy with him. Which left him wondering if she had the gumption to say so.
“I wish to speak to you about the outing this afternoon.” Silas didn’t know what he would say, but curiosity begged him to see if he could needle her into reaction. “I would like to take them again tomorrow.”
A quick tension around her eyes was all that flimflam elicited, though Miss Delmonte nodded.
“I thought they could spend the entire day at the warehouse.” Putting his feet down, Silas straightened and examined her as he continued to ramble on about all the ridiculous things he would do with the children, all of which were destined to be disastrous.
And still, Miss Delmonte remained silent, though that heat in her eyes blazed brighter. The sight of such self-control awed Silas, for only the greatest restraint could keep such emotions in check. Having served beneath captains who did not countenance outspoken sailors, Silas knew that a sense of self-preservation likely aided her composure, but he saw the signs of defiance beneath the docility.
