Carnal Knowledge Ch. 15-16

Her chest heaved, and his unruly cock throbbed at the sight of her hardened nipples poking against her dressing gown. A groan welled up when she licked over her mouth as though seeking another taste of him.

She lifted a hand to trace over her swollen lips. "Is...is it always like that...John?" she whispered.

"No," he answered shortly. He turned away and left quickly before he could do anything else to make a complete arse of himself. Bloody hell, was he no better than the earl?

***

Rockdale restlessly prowled the halls and rooms of Verity Hall, hoping, praying, to somehow discover some clue of his son's whereabouts. He found himself outside the nursery, and after hesitating a moment, pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Nanny Goodson sat in her rocking chair by the low-burning fire, head bowed in sleep. He sighed, remembering the tears that had streaked down her face earlier when he had berated her strongly for his son's disappearance.

He rubbed at his face with a tired hand. Perhaps he shouldn't have been quite so vehement in his accusal. No one was ultimately more to blame than himself.

Moving quietly, Rockdale continued inside until he reached his son's bedroom. He stood over Nicholas' empty bed, wanting to scream or punch the walls. Dear God! How could this have happened?

He stalked out of the room and into his daughter's, where his heart eased just a bit to see her huddled under the covers. She had been unusually silent and reserved earlier when he had questioned her and the nursery staff.

Damn it. Why was it so hard for him to know what to say?

He ghosted a hand over her hair and turned away in frustration. He felt so bloody helpless!

Beyond weary in both body and spirit, he moved to the window and stared out into the darkness. After what could have been five minutes or an hour, he sank down in a dark corner of the room, the floor cold and hard underneath him. He was still damp and dirty from his search of the grounds, but the discomfort barely penetrated his haze of misery.

At dawn he would send someone to the village to gather the men there, Rockdale decided. They could join the Verity Hall staff for a massive search of the estate, turning over every stone if necessary. Nicholas would be found. No other result was possible.

Sleep claimed him in restless, fitful dozes. Rockdale at first thought himself to be dreaming when his daughter stirred and climbed out of bed.

Anna hunkered down and reached under her bed, and Rockdale started to call out to her. He didn't wish to startle her but neither did he want to witness his daughter using the chamber pot.

Pausing, he cocked his head in puzzlement when she pulled out a small basket. Peering hard in the dim light, he saw her open a drawer in the bedside table and took out what appeared to be an apple, a hunk of...bread, and, good Lord, was that a chicken leg?

Baffled, he frowned, wondering if the servants were ensuring his children had enough to eat. Was Anna forced to hide food under her bed?

His daughter then shoved her bare feet into slippers and peered around the corner to the outer room where Nanny Goodson and a nursery maid presumably slumbered on.

His mouth fell agape when Anna proceeded to tiptoe out of her bedroom, basket in hand. He staggered to his feet quietly as possible and followed her as she continued out the nursery door and into the hallway.

*************************************************

Chapter 16

What the devil could she be up to?

Rockdale kept close to the wall, shadowing her in the darkness. His daughter carried no light or lantern, and her slippers were silent on the carpet-covered wooden floor. His heart began to beat faster as his brain began to churn into motion.

She was taking food to Nicholas. She had to be!

Anna finally paused at the end of the hall in front of the door that led to the narrow set of stairs that led to the attic. She turned the door handle slowly and opened it.

"Is he in the attic then?"

Anna shrieked and spun around to face him. "P-p-papa?" she asked tremulously, her eyes wide with fear.

A hundred emotions swamped him all at once. Relief, fear, anger, and many more he had no name for. "Is your brother in the attic?" he demanded. "How could you have not told me?"

Her mouth flattened in a thin, mulish line. "What do you care?"

Her uncharacteristically harsh words caused him to falter for a moment before collecting his wits. "Annabelle Margaret Beatrice Grayson. I would advise you to not try my patience another instant."

She flinched and seemed to deflate. "Very well," she muttered. Turning, she headed up the narrow flight of stairs that led to the house attic.

Rockdale followed closely behind her, cursing himself for not bringing a lantern along. They reached the top floor, and Anna paused, her face white and uncertain in the near darkness. The only light filtered down from the high windows near the roof.

He glanced around, making out the shapes of covered furniture and stacked objects cast-off from the main floors. It was both cold and dark up here. He couldn't imagine why a small boy would choose to hide himself in such a place.

Anna made her way over to a far corner, and he followed, wondering where Nicholas could be. The maids were certain to have searched up here, he told himself. He had specifically requested every floor and room to be carefully inspected.

Part of him wanted to call out, but he held himself back, wanting to see with his own eyes where the little devil had hidden.

Amongst a line of stacked leather trunks stood a floor-length mirror in a towering intricately carved-wooden frame. He vaguely remembered it being in what had been his grandmother's room.

Anna stood in front of the mirror for a moment, and then, with a glance back at him, she tilted the bottom of the swiveling mirror up and crawled over the base and into the space behind.

"I'll be damned," he muttered and hurried over. He tilted the mirror up further and looked inside. Nestled in the corner, in a nest of rugs and blankets, his son lay on his side sleeping. Weak light from a window above shone down upon him.

He glanced over at his daughter who shrugged. "This is our secret hiding place," she explained in a solemn whisper. "We found it exploring with our mother." Her eyes welled up with tears.

Nicholas stirred and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Anna?" he asked in a small voice.

Relief flooded over him in a sudden flood that weakened his knees. "Nicholas," he croaked, kneeling down. "Thank God, you are all right."

His son jerked in surprise and scrabbled backward. "You told!" he accused his sister.

"She had no choice," Rockdale said flatly. He regarded the children where they huddled across from him. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Part of him wanted to scold and admonish them for behaving in such a careless fashion while the other part of him longed to scoop them into his arms and weep in relief of his terror.

"You were very brave to be up here in the dark by yourself," Rockdale said at last, bending his long legs into the small space. "Were you not afraid?"

It was hard to see Nicholas' face clearly, but Rockdale thought his son's lips quivered.

"It was very dark," Nicholas whispered.

"Cold, too." Rockdale rubbed his hands together. "What happened to make you hide up here?"

His son had no answer and only huddled closer to his sister.

Rockdale bit the inside of his cheek to keep from shouting. Why did he feel as though his children were looking at him like some sort of villain? Damnation, but he was exhausted.

"Very well," Rockdale said, keeping his voice as even as he could manage. "Get up and let us go downstairs." He ignored the sniffling behind him, not uttering another word while he led the way back down the narrow steps and down the hallway.

He didn't pause until he stood before the door to his own bedchamber. Gesturing for the children to precede him inside, they faltered in the doorway.

"But Papa, these are your rooms," Anna said hesitantly. "Shouldn't we go back to the nursery?"

"No," he replied.

"Papa, are you going to whip us?" Nicholas asked in a small, shaky voice.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But not tonight. Let's go inside, shall we?"

His valet peeked inside. "My lord? Oh! You've found Lord Langley!"

"Yes, please alert Simpson and the nursery. Have someone prepare a supper tray and retrieve my son some night attire."

Rockdale directed the children to sit near the fire while he built up the embers until it was crackling with warmth. He settled tiredly down beside them on the rug.

The tray arrived, and Rockdale held his questions while the three of them picked at the food in silence. Afterwards, he and Nicholas washed up and changed into their night clothing.

Rockdale sat down on his bed and drew the covers back. "Why don't you two join me?"

He didn't miss the uncertain look pass between the children, and it sent a shard of pain through his chest.

They climbed up on the bed beside him and without preamble, Anna blurted, "We overheard Mrs. Biddleton and Mr. Simpson arguing in the kitchen."

Rockdale went very still. "What were they arguing about?"

"You," Nicholas said in a low voice. "And...and Mama."

Dread pooled in his stomach, but he forced himself to ask. "What did they say that upset you?"

Nicholas pressed his lips together.

"It will be all right if you do not wish to say," Rockdale found himself saying gently.

Anna wrapped her arms around herself. "Mrs. Biddleton said that you killed Mama...that you might have well have br-br-broken her neck yourself." Great, fat tears welled up her in eyes, and both children began to weep.

Rockdale forced himself to breathe through the surge of rage that threatened to propel him off the bed and downstairs to pull the bloody woman from her bed and wrap his hands around her neck. God! Must he even defend himself to his own children?

"Anna. Nicholas," he said firmly. "Look at me."

Two sets of teary eyes fixed on him.

"I would NEVER have harmed your mother. Never!" he said vehemently. "Never," he said again, his voice cracking.

He gathered his children close into his arms, holding them while they wept in pain and grief at the loss of a mother and wife, who for all her faults, had loved her children fiercely and without reserve. He had grieved Isabelle in his own way, not truly realizing the depth of the wound that could never really heal.

As he rocked his children in his arms for the first time in his life, he realized that no matter who had actually fathered them, they were his and his alone.

"Why would Mrs. Biddleton say such a horrible thing?" Anna asked finally, wiping at her eyes.

"She is angry at me and looking to strike out," Rockdale said. "I am very sorry that I did not realize sooner the depth of her bitterness."

He slid from the bed to retrieve a dampened cloth and returned to gently wipe away the tears from each of their faces.

"I never liked her," Nicholas offered when his father had finished. He sniffed. "She's mean and shouty."

"Yes, she is rather so." Rockdale ran a hand over his son's rumpled hair.

"Papa, are we sleeping here with you?" Nicholas asked, his eyes wide and uncertain.

"Yes," Rockdale said firmly. "Let's get under the covers, shall we?"

Despite his exhaustion, Rockdale lay awake watching his children slide into slumber.

Nicholas roused slightly. "I'm sorry I ran away, Papa," he whispered. "I love you."

William shifted and cleared his throat. "Go to sleep, Nicky. I—I love you, too, both of you."

***

The next afternoon, Rockdale called the entire estate staff into the grand foyer. He stood tall before the assembled group, his son and daughter on either side of him.

"I have gathered you together today to first thank you all for helping in the search for my son, Lord Langley. In light of that, my son has something he wishes to say to you."

With a visibly deep breath, the young boy stepped forward. "I would like to apologize to everyone for causing you to worry about me and do extra work searching for me. I am especially sorry to Mr. Willie for the injury to his foot."

Willie reddened to be singled out and bobbed his head in acknowledgement.

"I hope you all will forgive me for my actions even though I had a good reason—"

Rockdale cleared his throat. "I think that will suffice, Nicholas."

There was a rumbling at the back of the assembly and heads turned as the staff turned to look.

"Miss Lockhart!"

Rockdale blinked in disbelief at Nicholas' delighted squeal. His son launched himself forward and grasped the newcomer around the waist.

Bloody Christ. It was her. He took an unsteady breath and fought the urge to run and grab her as well.

His errant governess had fallen to her knees to hug his son in return, and after a moment she lifted her eyes and met his gaze. There was no smile for him, but his heart gladdened at the sight of her lovely face.

Why had she returned? William would have bet his entire fortune that Eliza would never choose to willingly set foot on his estate again. He shook his head, determining to puzzle it out later.

Anna had plastered herself to Eliza's other side, and she stood, an arm wrapped around both children.

"Miss Lockhart," Rockdale acknowledged coolly. "We are pleased you have decided to rejoin us at Verity Hall."

Eliza inclined her head, her demeanor equally as cool. "Thank you, my lord."

He held up a hand to quell the murmuring among his staff. "Your attention, please. I have another urgent matter to address."

At his gesture, the children moved back to his side.

"Martha Biddleton, step forward, if you will."

The housekeeper moved from the back of the assembly, the staff parting quickly. "Yes, my lord?"

The earl studied her silently down the length of his nose before finally speaking in a clear voice that carried throughout the room. "You are no longer welcome in this house or on my estate. I am dismissing you from your position. You will receive no reference or character letter from me or anyone on my staff."

The housekeeper clutched at her chest. "My lord! You cannot be serious!"

"I have never been more serious. You have inflicted grievous injury to the well-being of my family, and this is an offense I will not forgive or condone."

Rockdale waved a hand. "Simpson."

The butler darted forward. "Yes, my lord?"

"Take her keys, escort this woman to her former quarters, and allow her to gather her things. Personally see that she is off my property within the hour."

"Yes, my lord. With pleasure."

Mrs. Biddleton covered her face and began to weep. "Oh, my lord, please. You can't mean these terrible things! I loved Lady Rockdale like my own daughter. What would she say to see me treated so poorly?"

Rockdale took a step closer to her and said in a lower tone. "It is only because my wife was inexplicably fond of you that I have refrained from turning you over to the constable for slander against a peer of the realm. Now, please remove yourself from my sight."

***

Eliza watched in bemusement while Simpson marched Mrs. Biddleton out of the room in view of the entire incredulous staff. She glanced down as Nicholas sidled closer and slid his hand into hers.

Anna stood by her father's side, their faces mirror images of stony regality. "Good riddance," she said.

"Yes," Rockdale murmured, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Good riddance, indeed."

***

Later, in the nursery with the children, Eliza's mind still reeled trying to make sense of all that had happened. It felt strangely surreal to be back in place as governess, as though the past two weeks had never happened.

She felt an enormous relief to see Nicholas safe and sound. Both children thankfully seemed none the worse for the ordeal. With a guilty look at Nanny Goodson, Anna had given Eliza the gist of what had transpired. The young girl would not divulge what exactly they had overheard Mrs. Biddleton say, but Eliza knew it must have been something truly apalling. Having experienced the extent of the woman's unpleasantness firsthand, she felt a great relief at the housekeeper being forcibly removed from the house.

To her surprise, Rockdale had disappeared after the meeting with the staff. She felt bewildered and rather... hurt by his lack of reaction at her return. But really, what had she expected?

God! She was such a fool to have come back here! Eliza covered her face with her hands, questioning her decision to tell the earl about the baby they had conceived together.

"Are you all right, Miss Lockhart?"

Eliza uncovered her face and smiled down at Nicholas. "Oh, yes. Just a bit tired from the trip back to Verity Hall."

A light knock on the nursery door caused her heart to thump in heady expectation that quickly faded as the door swung open.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Willoughby," Eliza managed to say.

"Good afternoon," he replied, appearing surprised to see her on the floor with Nicholas, surrounded by a multitude of toy soldiers. "I wondered if I might have a quick word with you, Miss Lockhart."

Eliza didn't miss the way Nanny Goodson eyed them with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, well, I suppose so," Eliza said, rising to her feet.

"Miss Lockhart! Your skirts have knocked over the entire right flank!"

"My apologies, General. Get the troops back in order, and I'll return shortly," Eliza said, laughing.

Mr. Willoughby moved back to allow her to step past him into the hallway. She smiled uncertainly as he joined her.

"You're very good with them," he observed. "The children, I mean."

"Oh, er, thank you."

"I hadn't meant for this to feel so awkward." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Let me just say it then. I have decided I must leave my position as Lord Rockdale's secretary."

Taken aback, she began to speak, but he forestalled her with a raised hand.

"There are several reasons why I feel I must go," he said in a low tone.

"Mr. Willoughby," Eliza murmured, troubled by his words. "I hope this isn't because of..."

"Yes," he replied, "in part. But that is not the only reason. I have been offered an opportunity to apprentice with a group of solicitors in London. And I wondered if perhaps you might wish...to come with me."

Eliza's mouth fell open. "Come with you?" she whispered. "But..."

He took an almost infinitesimal step closer. "As my wife, of course."

"Mr. Willoughby! Are you proposing marriage?" she asked, disbelieving her ears.

He grimaced. "Yes, very badly, it would appear. Eliza, I realize you and I are recently acquainted with one another, but I cannot help but be convinced we would suit most favorably. I would offer you my upmost respect and never mistreat you, and...I would gladly have you just...as you are."

Eliza realized dimly that he was saying he would have her regardless of the current state of her maidenhood. She bit her lip, wondering if he would feel the same if he knew of the baby she carried.

"Miss Lockhart," he continued earnestly. "Would you consider accepting my suit?"

She stared into his handsome face and knew he would make a lovely husband to a lucky woman. But with a sad smile, she shook her head. "Dear Mr. Willoughby, you are terribly kind to ask..."

His eyes hardened, and unexpectedly, he seized Eliza's arm and dragged her further down the hallway to a greater distance from the partially open nursery door.

She squeaked, caught off guard. "John!"

He pointed a finger at her and released her arm. "Pray, do not "dear, Mr. Willoughby me," Eliza. I assure you there is nothing kind about my proposal, not a bit!"

Discomfited by his vehemence, she bit her lip and frowned at him.

"Don't forget that I know what you have endured in this house from Lord Rockdale," he informed her in a low tone. "I know."