Chapter Eight
Twilight was fading into darkness as James rang the doorbell of his in-laws’ country home. He’d been traveling all day, only stopping to change his horses, and was glad to have reached his final destination. He couldn’t wait to see his daughters.
The butler opened the door and said in surprise, “Colonel—” He broke off. “I beg your pardon, it’s Lord Tarrant now, isn’t it? My condolences on the loss of your brother, my lord.”
James nodded brusquely. “Thank you, Sutton.”
“Welcome back to England, my lord. I didn’t realize we were expecting you.”
“You weren’t. Lord and Lady Fenwick are in, I presume? But it’s the girls I’ve come for.” He glanced up the stairs. “In the nursery, are they?”
James took several steps forward, but the butler stepped in his way, his expression troubled. “I will let Lady Fenwick know you have arrived. If you would care to wait inthe drawing room, my lord, I will have refreshments brought in.” He gestured.
“I don’t need to wait, I just want to see—” But the butler had gone. Damned formality. He was half tempted to run up the stairs to the nursery anyway, but he supposed a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t as if the girls were expecting him.
He ran his hand over his stubbled chin. He probably should have stopped at an inn and shaved and changed his clothes, but dammit, he wanted to see his daughters. They wouldn’t care if he was rumpled and unshaven. They’d seen him in worse condition than that. At least, Judy and Lina had.
Little Deborah. He wondered what she’d look like, whether she’d take after her mother or him.
“Tarrant.” His mother-in-law greeted him from the doorway. He rose and would have bowed over her hand, but she waved him back to his seat. His father-in-law followed her in and gave James a curt nod as a greeting. James nodded back.
“You didn’t tell us you were coming.” His mother-in-law wasn’t smiling, but some things never changed.
“I apologize for any inconvenience, Lady Fenwick.” He’d tried once, as a newly married man, to call hermama-in-law, but she’d frozen him out so severely that he’d never tried again.
His in-laws had never approved of him. They hadn’t wanted him—a younger son, and a soldier in time of war!—for their daughter, but Selina only gave the appearance of being gentle and biddable. She’d stood firm until her parents had no choice but to give in. And then she’d insisted on going to war with him, following the drum, sharing the discomfort and the difficulties and the danger. She’d loved every moment of it, and he’d loved having her with him.
She’d born him two healthy children underunimaginable conditions. The two little girls had relished army life as much as their mother did.
But four years ago Selina had been experiencing a difficult third pregnancy and on medical advice had reluctantly agreed to return to London, taking the two little girls with her.
The baby had lived, but Selina had died shortly afterward. Childbed fever, they said. Her parents blamed him, even though he’d been a continent away, risking his life for king and country, and Selina was in London in the care of her parents, with the best medical attention available.
James dragged his thoughts back to the present. He neither wanted nor needed his in-laws’ approval. He was here for one thing only: his daughters. He glanced at the doorway. “Where are the girls?”
“Would you like tea?”
“Later, perhaps, but first I would like to see the girls.”
Lord and Lady Fenwick exchanged glances. “They’re not here at the moment.”
James frowned. They wouldn’t be outside at this time of the evening. “Where are they?”
There was an awkward silence.
His voice hardened. “Where are my daughters?”
“Attending Miss Coates’s Seminary for Young Ladies. It’s a very genteel establishment—”
“Atschool? Judy and Lina?” Judy was eleven and Lina only seven. They were far too young to be sent away to school.
James tamped down on his anger. He was here for his girls, not to argue with his in-laws. “Then I’ll just see Deborah.”
His mother-in-law glanced away. “She’s with her sisters, of course.”
He rose to his feet, rage coursing through him. “Deborah? In a boarding school? Dammit, she’s only four years old!”
His mother-in-law shrank from him. His father-in-law bristled with righteous indignation. “Language, sirrah!And you cannot expect a frail, elderly lady like my wife to care for someone else’s children.”
