He picked up the boy and set him on his shoulder, then stood.
Christopher whooped and held on to the man’s ears.
“Hold on, little fellow.” He held out his arm. “Mrs. Croome, are you ready?”
“Lord Wycliff, I’m afraid I must cancel. Mrs. Carter’s in a bad way. Her gout is acting up. I suppose we must delay. I’m so sorry to have gotten you all the way out here for nothing.”
He frowned for a moment, even biting that maddening lip. “Christopher and I could go on our own, ma’am. Right, young fellow?”
“No. You can’t.” My voice was loud and showed all my fears. “You can’t take Chris.”
“Ahh, Ma, no.” Christopher kicked his legs out. “I want to go.”
My mother looked my way, but she needn’t have had that pleading look.
I launched from the sofa. “My plans have been cancelled for the day. I can go, if you must go today.”
The look on Wycliff’s face wasn’t one of a man triumphant in accomplishing a goal. His eyes were penitent, the dark-gray, almost-black irises. They searched for answers I couldn’t offer. “I suppose it best for Christopher to accompany me with a chaperone. I’m but a stranger to him. Master Wilky, is it fine for your mother to take Mrs. Croome’s place?”
“Mama. Mama. Yes. She should go.”
“You are right, Master Christopher. Your mother does needs to come.” He held out his arm to me. “Mrs. Croome, I won’t have these two out too late.”
“I’m sure you’ll take good care of them. Ruth, I’ll give your best to Mrs. Carter.”
Wycliff may not have been up to something, but the catbird look on Mama meant she surely was. She seemed happy that I was going with him.
We strolled into the hall, and I picked up the wide-brimmed bonnet that I’d set on the entry table.
“Mama, you going to chase frogs, too?”
I looked at my son and the man bent on entertaining him. “No, girls don’t chase frogs. They kiss them and make them into princes.”
“That’s disgusting.” Chris covered his cheeks.
Wycliff laughed, a good hearty one with his raspy throat. “I suppose it is, son. I suppose it is.”
I stopped on the steps as they kept moving. I had to catch my breath. My head echoed the word,son. It was louder than the usual roaring in my ears.
Son.
It was just a label often tossed about to young men, but hearing Wycliff say it to Chris touched something deep inside.
The baron marched back up the steps. He put Chris in my arms, then as he’d done before, he put his arm about me and led me down the steps. The pace was slow. We took them together, one by one.
I closed my eyes and leaned into him. I peeked every few steps and was strengthened by the joy on my boy’s face.
Wycliff settled me into the carriage. He sat me on one side while he and Chris shared the other. He took a frog puppet and put it in my son’s hands.
My sweet boy jumped up and down. He leaped at Wycliff and hugged his neck like the man was a horse.
I saw Wycliff wince even as he hugged my baby. I wanted to know what was wrong, but I was so happy to see my boy being loved that I buttoned my lips. I didn’t want to say anything wrong and ruin the moment.
I closed my eyes. I thought hard about breaking off with the barrister. Was a cousin spending time with my son a balance for an absent stepfather? I’d have to figure things out soon before Chris became too attached, for I had an offer from a man not here but had turned down marriage from the gentleman holding my hand.
Chapter Nineteen
Frog-Hunting Friends
