Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

Across the way, a few adventurous souls were trudging their way through the snow-covered fields, people who relied on him for the livelihood of this generation and the ones to follow. He owed it to them and to himself to safeguard the legacy of the Grayling estates. But that was not the whole reason for this visit today. He still had another confession to make.

“I’ve met someone, Augusta. Someone I’d very much like to spend every part of the day and night with.” He shook his head. “She’s not at all like you, but I think you would like her. In all honestly, I don’t know who she is or what her connections might be. She could be a flower seller’s daughter for all I know, but I very much doubt such a creature could intrigue me as she does.”

Constantine rubbed his jaw. “She’s wounded, I think. She keeps secrets but reveals so much by the hundred kindnesses she shows others. She’s strong and independent. If I can convince her to stay, she’ll be a good influence on our daughters. She’s done so much to keep your memory alive already and I can see how Willow has responded to her. She’s talking again, laughing as she plays. The woman would never take your place in their hearts, but they need her. And so do I.”

“Can you forgive me, Augusta? For falling in love again? I didn’t mean to. Never intended to give my heart to another soul, but she snuck beneath my defenses and burrowed into my life before I realized I liked her there. What started out as lust has grown into something so strong that I cannot deny my feelings. I haven’t told her that I’d like to marry her. One day, when she trusts me enough to share her true identity I will see what she has to say to that. She makes me happy, Augusta. Just as you did. But it’s different. Does that make sense?”

He faced the distant house, the manor where he was born, had loved and been loved in. The sight of it was no longer so bleak and cheerless, even with the absence of Augusta. Meredith was inside, the blinding presence that had turned his world upside down and brightened every dark corner. His heart beat for her. “I will never forget what we had. Please forgive me. Can you?”

He faced the gravestone again and memorized the lines carved into the cold stone. He would never allow Augusta to be forgotten. He bowed his head, praying he was making the right decision for them all. That he wasn’t rushing the situation. He would convince Calista, Meredith, or whoever she might be to be his wife one day, no matter how long it took her see the sense of it. He would take care of her without smothering her independence. He would make her laugh, and even convince Cunningham to accept that her place was here.

An icy blast blew his hat from his hands and he glanced around him. A light snow fell from the bright clear sky, growing thicker by the moment. The snowflakes swirled around the gravestones and him and then died as swiftly as they had come. The day brightened again, warming him with hope and a sense of purpose. Augusta had always enjoyed Christmas and this year he would too. She would want him to be happy. Constant

ine collected his hat from where it had fallen to rest against Augusta’s headstone and set it on his head. He brushed his fingers over the cold stone one last time. “Farewell, my love. I will never forget you.”

He strode back to the Hall, eagerness almost making him rush. He and Meredith needed to talk about the past and the future, but first, he had something vital to do. Today was the birth of a new life. One filled with the wild passion of one tempting wench—a near stranger without a name.

The return trip to the manor proved much faster and happier for him. He stepped onto the rear terrace to find Cunningham lying in wait for him just inside the doors. As soon as he was inside, he shrugged out of his greatcoat and hat. “Cunningham, would you by any chance know the location of Miss Clark?”

“She’s in the nursery with the children, my lord.”

“Hmm, very good.” He’d forgotten the time. Poppy and Maisy often rested at this time of day and Willow, too, occasionally would lay down for a quarter hour or more. He probably shouldn’t go up and interfere with Miss Clark’s routine. She might become testy and that would ruin the evening he had planned. Now that he had decided on a course of action, he wanted no setbacks.

Cunningham raised a brow. “Should I have her fetched, my lord?”

Constantine could imagine how little Miss Clark would appreciate such a summons. She’d been in an odd mood since Willow had smacked that ball into her head. Sitting with her for so many hours had stirred up talk among the servants. His actions, although perfectly restrained and chaste, had set her apart from them.

Aside from her injury, he’d never enjoyed a day more. Yet Miss Clark had grown suspicious when he lingered in the nursery for any length of time. She much preferred to meet him on her terms, but that would change tonight. He grinned. “I think not, but could you send Mrs. Smith to my wife’s bedchamber and join us there? There is much to do.”

Cunningham frowned but was quick to arrive upstairs with the housekeeper in tow. Mrs. Smith smiled hesitantly. “You sent for me, my lord.”

“Yes, I’d like you to pack.”

Her face filled with confusion. “Wouldn’t your valet be better suited for the task?”

Constantine glanced around the bedchamber. “I would appreciate your help to pack the contents of this room. I don’t want anything thrown out or passed on to the other servants. I hope there will be no hard feelings among the staff about that, but I want everything left for my daughters for when they are old enough to choose.”

Mrs. Smith took a moment to wipe a tear from her eye and then nodded. “That is a reasonable decision, my lord.”

Cunningham, however, looked anything but happy. He’d been devoted to his late wife and had taken her death harder than any other member of staff. Loyalty to the family was important, but the family had to continue. Constantine had the perfect explanation that would make his butler bury his reservations. “I am in need of an heir, Cunningham, and I cannot contemplate another marriage without attending to this room first.”

The struggle was clear on Cunningham’s face, but eventually he nodded. “Very well, my lord.”

“Thank you, Cunningham. I trust I can depend on you to make any transition as smooth as possible.”

The servants both blinked at him. But it was Mrs. Smith who asked the question. “Did you already have a lady in mind, my lord?”

“Actually, I do. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

CHAPTER 19

MEREDITH TUCKED THE covers tightly about Poppy and brushed the soft curls back from her forehead. The little girl grumbled a bit but then stilled as sleep pulled her into its grip. Meredith watched her for a space of time and then drew back. She’d grown to love the little imp. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she whispered softly.

Today had been rather draining. The anniversary of the last Lady Grayling’s death had begun with long faces and ended just as quietly. There had been no festivities for the holiday, none at all to mark Poppy’s second birthday. Meredith had not wanted to let the occasion pass without marking it somehow. She had carried Poppy away to a quiet room and given her something she’d made with her own hands, a small cloth doll with lopsided braids and button eyes. Poppy hadn’t let it go for one moment since it had fallen into her hands.

Meredith straightened and surveyed the nursery. The room was now an overflowing haven of entertainments and daily laughter. Nurse still came to sit with them each day and tell stories of their mother, yet Meredith was sure the woman loved them in her own way. She always had a kind word or soft touch to offer them. After weeks of soft rebukes and dismissals, Miss Cunningham had finally learned that she could not romp into the nursery at will simply because she was the butler’s niece.

Everything had turned out how Meredith hoped. And that was the whole problem.