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“If you will not accept my gratitude, I shall offer it to Shep,” Caroline said.

Upon hearing his name, the dog trotting beside Benedict perked up its ears.

Benedict gave him an approbatory look. “I believe I shall join you.”

Chapter 13

Setting his focus on reaching Farwell Hall as quickly as possible, Benedict attempted to rein in his swirling emotions. The task would have been easier had he been alone. As it was, with Meg’s wet, trembling body pressed against his chest, every step was a reminder of how close they’d come to losing her. The searing fear that had pierced him when he’d realized that she’d fallen into the river had subsided to a dull ache, but his response had been disturbingly telling. The little girl had come to mean a great deal to him. And if he were being completely honest with himself, so had Caroline.

He was grateful that the trust Caroline had placed in him included a willingness to speak of her past. It could not have been easy for her. In truth, it had not been easy for him either. Learning more about Captain Granger had caused him a discomforting twinge of envy. He could scarcely comprehend what it would be to experience the full measure of Caroline’s love. And yet the gentleman had seemingly set it at naught. Although she’d said nothing ill of her late husband, it had not been difficult to fill in the gaps in her narrative. And at the thought of all Caroline had been forced to endure alone, a healthy dose of indignation had risen above his envy. His noteworthy naval rank notwithstanding, as far as Benedict was concerned, Captain Granger had been unworthy of his wife.

Exiting the north pasture, Benedict led Caroline down the lane toward Farwell Hall. There was no sign of Wesley. All being well, the footman had already reached the kitchen. The more warning Cook was given, the better. She had treated young Caroline as another child in the Farwell household, and he had no doubt she would drop whatever she was doing now to help Caroline’s daughter.

“Benedict?”

As pleased as he was to hear Caroline use his given name, it was impossible to miss her accompanying breathlessness. Silently berating himself for setting so rapid a pace, he slowed his steps. His urgency to see Meg warm and comfortable had caused him to forget about Caroline’s limited stamina. Knowing that she would not wish him to draw attention to her perceived weakness, he disregarded the apology on his lips and responded with a simple, “Yes?”

“Do you hear that? It sounds like a carriage.”

Tuning his ears beyond the soft murmur of Meg’s breathing, he caught the distinctive rattle of hooves and wheels on gravel.

“Are you expecting visitors?” she asked.

Visitors? No. His parents? That was a distinct possibility. For the first time since he’d alerted the housekeeper to his mother and father’s impending return, he turned his thoughts to his mother’s letter. Even though she’d not given him a specific date, she had suggested they would be back at the end of this week.

“My parents are the only people I’m expecting over the next few days.”

“Your parents! Meg and I cannot possibly intrude upon their arrival home. Especially in this state.” She waved her arm in a circle to encompass Meg and Benedict before pointing to the large wet patch on her gown where Meg had pressed against her.

“First,” Benedict said, “you will not be intruding. You have always—and will always—be welcome at Farwell Hall. Notwithstanding that, my plan was to go directly to the kitchen through the servants’ entrance. That way, even if the hall is filled with trunks and people, we shall bypass the commotion. Second, Meg’s welfare is considerably more important than social niceties. I can greet my parents after she is taken care of. And third, it is my home and contains my entire wardrobe. I’d rather like to don a pair of boots that don’t squelch whenever I take a step. And I’d prefer to do it sooner rather than later.”

Her eyes darted to his feet, and as he continued walking, his right boot obliged him with a loud squishy sound.

She gasped. “Did you not empty them of water?”

“In all honesty, it failed to cross my mind until we were halfway across the pasture.”

“We can stop. You can do it now.”

He dismissed her suggestion with a shake of his head. “I’d rather wait until Meg is situated in front of the stove. The blanket is helping, but she’s shivering still.”

Caroline’s anxious gaze moved to her daughter, and without another word, she continued toward the house.

Avoiding the main entrance, they cut across the front lawn. The drive was clear, and Benedict guessed that the noise they’d heard had come from his parents’ carriage and horses returning to the carriage house and stables respectively. It was likely that the servants had gathered outside to greet the returning earl and his wife, and whatever they had brought with them had already been moved indoors.

As they rounded the corner, the lawn extended as far as some meticulously pruned shrubs, and beyond that, the tips of the trees in their newly created apple orchard were visible over the brightly colored flowerbeds.

“This way,” Benedict said, although he guessed Caroline knew the entrance to the kitchen as well as he did.

They veered left, arriving at the door just as Wesley pulled it open. The footman stood aside to allow them entry. “I was watching for you, my lord. Cook was out front welcoming Lord and Lady Farwell when I got here, but I managed to speak to her right afterward. She has milk warming on the stove for the little girl.”

“Thank you, Wesley.”

The footman inclined his head, and after signaling Shep to remain outside, Benedict strode into the kitchen. Warmth enveloped him along with the scent of freshly baked bread.

“Over here, my lord.” Cook stood with her hands on the back of a wooden rocking chair. “I ’ad Wesley bring this in from my chamber. There’s nothin’ better than a rockin’ chair in front of a fire when one’s feelin’ poorly.”

“Bless you, Mrs. Newson,” Benedict said. He shifted to his right so Caroline could step forward. “You remember Caroline?”