‘Grant!’ Kate stared at him, then scooped up Anna as the baby began to cry, as unsettled by his abruptly harsh tone as she was.
‘She was a disaster as a mother.’
And a disaster as a wife? ‘He need not know that,’ Kate said fiercely.
‘Of course not, what do you take me for?’
‘I do not know. I do not know you. But he needs the confidence of knowing he had a mother who loved him, even if she was not very good at it in your eyes. What does it matter if you do not like it, if it is best for Charlie?’
‘Damn it, Kate. You presume to lecture me on my own child?’
‘Yes, of course I do.’ She glared back at him over the top of Anna’s bonneted head, aware that she was bristling like a stable cat defending her kittens. Then she saw the darkness in Grant’s eyes, the memory of goodness knew what past miseries. ‘I am sorry, but I am his stepmother and you left him with me to look after. He is still only a little boy, not ready for harsh truths.’ She rocked the baby, trying to soothe her. ‘What did she do that was so unforgivable?’
Grant got to his feet in one fast movement, a controlled release of pent-up tension. ‘I am sorry, but I have no intention of raking over old history. Madeleine is in the past and there is nothing you need to know.’ He bent to pick up his hat. ‘If you will excuse me, Kate, I will ride on to the house and take Charlie with me. I assume a footman is coming out in the gig to collect you and bring the basket back?’
‘Yes, I expect him very soon.’ Kate was glad of Anna grizzling in her arms, demanding her attention. She did not want to look into those shadowed eyes and see his anger with her, or his pain over his beautiful, lost wife.
He called to Charlie and the boy came running to be hoisted up into the saddle in front of his father. Grant gave him the reins. ‘Wave goodbye to your stepmama.’
When the sound of hooves died away and Charlie’s excited chatter faded amongst the trees, Kate fed and changed Anna, packed away the baby things in one basket and the remains of the picnic in the other and got to her feet, too restless to wait for the footman and the gig.
She had to think about Grant, but not about what would happen that night. If she began to imagine that, then she would be in more of a state of nerves than a virgin on her wedding night. The virgin might have a little theoretical knowledge, but Kate knew exactly what would happen and the thought of being in Grant’s bed made her mind dizzy and her body ache.
She had lain with Jonathan just once and she had believed herself in love with him, a delusion she now knew was born out of ignorance, a desperation to get away from home and the lures of an accomplished rake. And the experience had been a sadly disappointing one, even though she had not truly understood what to expect. But she hardly knew Grant, the man, at all, he had never so much as kissed her hand and she was most certainly not tipsy with moonlight and champagne. And yet, just the thought of him made her breath come short and an ache, somewhere between fear and anticipation, form low down. Goodness knew how she had managed a rational conversation with him appearing like that.
Kate tucked Anna more snugly into her little blanket, settled her into the folds of her shawl to make a sling and began to walk back to the house. It would take almost half an hour with her arms full of her wriggling, chubby baby. Time enough to think about something other than how long Grant’s legs had looked, stretched out on the rug, how the ends of his hair had turned golden brown in the sunlight.
Time, in fact, to consider that locked door on the other side of Grant’s suite of rooms in the light of what he had said about Madeleine, the beautiful wife who had been such a bad mother and who had died in a fire.
She had realised almost from the beginning that the forbidden suite must have been her predecessor’s rooms. She could understand that the chambers would hold difficult memories for Grant, but even so, it was surely long past the time when they should have been opened up, aired, redecorated and put to use. What would happen when Charlie was old enough to be curious about the locked door? It was unhealthy to make a mystery out of his mother like that, and if he ever discovered that was where she had died, he might well have nightmares about it.
None of the keys on her chatelaine fitted the lock and all the servants denied having the right one, either. Eventually Grimswade told her that neither his late lordship nor his young lordship had wanted the rooms opened. ‘The earl holds the only key, my lady,’ he told her, his gaze fixed at a point over her head.