A Tip of the Cap (London League, Book 3) Read online

  “I go to the cemetery,” Beth told her quietly, running her fingers through Jane’s dark hair. “I sit down by your mother’s grave, and I talk to her.”

  She saw Malcolm jerk a little by the door, but she didn’t look at him.

  “Really?” Jane asked with innocent curiosity. “What do you talk about?”

  Beth smiled and continued to stroke Jane’s hair. “You. And Archer and Samuel and Greer.” She lifted her gaze a little to Malcolm, who was watching her with an intensity that captivated her. “And your father, too.”

  She saw him swallow and looked away before she lost her focus.

  “I tell her how you are doing,” Beth went on, smiling softly. “I tell her amusing stories, I ask for her advice… She doesn’t answer with words, but sometimes I think she answers in my heart. I feel better after talking to her, and I think she would feel better knowing I come to see her.”

  “You didn’t know Mama,” Jane reminded her, pulling back a little to look in her face. “Why do you go see her?”

  Beth stroked Jane’s cheek a little, still smiling. “Because she is still your mother, Jane. She will always be your mother. It is my responsibility to help you children to become the people your mother would have liked you to be, and I desperately need her help taking care of her family.”

  Jane seemed to mull it over and nestled against Beth again. “We’re your family, too, Bitsy.”

  Tears welled up in Beth’s eyes, and she hugged the girl closer. “Thank you, Janie.”

  “May I… may I come with you sometime?” Jane asked her in a suddenly timid voice. “To talk to Mama?”

  Beth pulled back a little and brushed the hair out of Jane’s face. “Of course, sweetheart. We can go tomorrow, if you like. And we can take flowers.”

  “Roses,” Jane insisted. “Those were Mama’s favorite. And never take lilies. She likes Cousin Lily, but not the flowers.”

  “Duly noted,” Beth replied with a laugh.

  Jane sniffed again and rested her head back down on her pillow. “I miss her, Bitsy.”

  Beth nodded and stroked her hair again. “I know. And that’s quite all right. You go on missing your mother as long as you like. I’ll be right here to hold you when you miss her, and we can talk about her anytime you want.”

  The smile Jane gave her then would warm Beth’s heart for years to come, and she let Jane talk to her for several minutes while the little girl relaxed once more. Malcolm slipped out of the room without Beth noticing, and the other children had settled drowsily back into their beds. When Jane’s eyelids began to droop, Beth kissed her brow, tucked her in, and slipped out of the room quietly, shutting the door behind her.

  She sighed heavily as she leaned against it, smiling a little. Finally, a breakthrough with Jane! At last, she might be able to develop a sort of relationship with the girl beyond their simple playtime.

  She made a noise of satisfaction and pushed away from the door, only to jump and screech a little in alarm. Her husband leaned against the wall in the shadows not far from the nursery, arms crossed, staring at her.

  “Malcolm, what are you doing there?” she gasped, her hand sliding from her mouth to her chest, pressing her terrified heart into submission.

  He straightened and tilted his head a little at her.

  Beth realized she’d called him by his Christian name but couldn’t find the words to apologize in the face of his haunted look. Even in the low light of the hall, his features were perfectly sculpted, and there was a heat in his eyes that rivaled any fire Beth had ever seen. She swallowed hard.

  He slowly came towards her. “I’ve been blind,” he murmured.

  Some previously undiscovered strength filled Beth’s frame, and she stayed rooted in place as he approached. “Have you?” she heard herself reply.

  He nodded, stopping just in front of her. “So blind.”

  Suddenly, his hands were on her face, his lips on hers, grazing and nipping, then drinking deeply as if he could never get enough.

  Beth almost cried out with relief as her desire fanned into flames in the face of his passion. She slid her hands into Malcolm’s hair, desperate to pull herself closer, to give him all that she could of herself before he could change his mind. Fear licked at her. Fear that this was a mistake, that he wouldn’t want her like this, that he would stop…

  Malcolm’s hands stroked her face, along her neck, moving down her arm, around her back, and his kisses grew tender, but somehow lost none of the passion.

  She had craved his touch for so long, and she hadn’t even known it. To be embraced in this way, to feel this sort of attention from him, and to feel this same excitement rising within her, filling her and spreading through her limbs. Had she ever felt this alive or aware of herself? She sighed against his mouth, arching up for more.

  He broke off gently, one hand reaching up for her cheek again as he dusted kisses along her face and neck. “Oh, Caroline,” he moaned, kissing along her jaw.

  Beth stiffened even as she had felt herself rising up on her toes with his kisses. A sob welled up in her throat, but she forced it down with effort. Lowering back to the ground she pushed herself away from his chest gently.

  Somehow, she looked up at him, and within his eyes, she saw desire, confusion, and anguish, all of which made her ache more than his misspoken words had. She brought a hand to his cheek and looked him squarely in the eye.

  “If you’re going to be with me,” Beth murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, “you need to be with me. She can’t be anywhere near us.”

  Malcolm covered her hand with his own, his breathing suddenly unsteady.

  “It needs to be my name,” she told him softly, trying to be firm. “Not hers.”

  His throat worked on a swallow while his eyes searched hers. He wet his lips and exhaled slowly. “I’m not ready,” he admitted in a low rumble.

  Beth knew that already. She could see that. She could feel that. But the pain of it still slashed across her with surprising sharpness. She nodded slowly, stroking his cheek once. Then she let her hand slide from his face, stepped out of his hold, and moved around him down the hall back to her rooms. She resisted the temptation to look back, to see if he watched her, and let her now quivering chin tremble fully, though she would not allow any of the welling tears fall.

  How could he have done something so thoughtless? Malcolm berated himself. He’d known he was kissing Beth. Of course, he had! Logically, he had been fully aware of her. His mind had not left him entirely. But in his heart, things were less clear. With her in his arms, her lips against his, his heart only knew one cry, and everything seemed so right, so familiar, there had been no recourse but to say her name.

  Except it had been the wrong name.

  He had known it at once, but the awareness had not flooded him until Beth had touched his face. He hadn’t slept after that. How could he? Beth deserved so much more than what he had been offering her, what he felt able to offer her. Her tenderness and understanding with Jane had taken his breath away, despite the pain he had felt, his utter helplessness in the face of his daughter’s distress. And to remind Beth that she was not their mother? His own callousness had surprised him.

  Of course Beth was not their mother. She had never once claimed to be. But she was standing in place of their mother and loved his children as a mother would. She was becoming a mother to them, even if she had not borne them herself.

  And what was so wrong with that? In fact, it may have made him feel more for her than he already did.

  What exactly that meant was unclear to him, which was why he had eventually found his way into the gallery last night. Here he remained, staring helplessly up at Caroline’s portrait, wondering what he could do, what he should do, and if he would ever be able to find his way without her.

  Faint footsteps suddenly sounded, but he ignored them, assuming they belonged to a servant.

  “Have you been in here all night, Monty?” Beth’s voice asked, sounding sur
prised. Somehow, she seemed without any lingering pain from the interruption of their interlude the night before.

  Malcolm nodded slowly and shuddered involuntarily, not looking at her.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he murmured with a shrug. “It makes no sense.”

  Beth came closer, and he could now see her in his peripheral vision. “It makes perfect sense. You miss her, and here she is.”

  A moment of silence passed as they both viewed the portrait.

  It had been painted the year before Caroline’s death, and it captured her strong spirit, her beauty, and her ability to captivate with only a look. Her dark hair and eyes perfectly reflected reality, and he remembered hovering behind the artist and attempting to smooth the subtle barbs Caroline had doled out during the process. She had never been one for portraits or standing still for extended periods. Despite the tranquility of the painting, the creation of it had brought out the worst in her.

  “It’s a fine portrait,” Beth praised.

  Malcolm snorted softly. “She hated it.”

  Surprised, Beth turned to look at him. “Why?”

  Somehow, he managed a humorless smile. “She said it made her look stiff and severe.”

  Beth turned back to the painting, tilting her head and looking more closely. After a moment of analysis, she nodded once. “I can see that.”

  Malcolm dropped his head and laughed helplessly.

  “But still,” Beth went on, a smile in her voice, “it is a fine portrait.”

  Malcolm shook his still-lowered head, then looked up at his wife. “Did you seek me out intentionally, Beth?”

  She smiled at him a little. “Naturally. I think it is time we had a talk.”

  “I agree.” He slid over on the ottoman he occupied and patted the vacant spot.

  She held out her hand, still smiling. “Not here. Come take a walk with me.”

  In his raw vulnerability, he didn’t even hesitate, and it surprised him how easy it felt to hold her hand in his, to be led through the house and out of doors. Malcolm slowly walked the grounds of Knightsgate with her. Eventually, her hand slid out of his, and his fingers tingled slightly with the loss.

  “Malcolm,” Beth said gently, again using his Christian name, which he found somehow comforting and enticing, “I believe you are lost.”

  “I know I am,” he replied without shame. “I have absolutely no idea what to do. It’s been some time since her death, and I can’t seem to manage being both father and mother to my children.”

  Beth’s shoulder brushed against his as they walked, and she pushed a lock of her loosely bound hair behind her ear. “Which is why you decided to marry again.”

  He nodded once. “It was more an act of self-preservation than anything else. It didn’t really occur to me that by marrying again, not only would my children have another female in their life, but I would as well. It was never supposed to be about me, aside from the roles that I could not fill.” He slid a glance to Beth and smiled a little lopsidedly. “I didn’t expect to find you.”

  She gave him a matching smile and quirked her head slightly. “I can imagine not. Whatever would you want me for? You wanted a simple, uncomplicated woman. Not simple-minded, for she would need to manage your affairs properly and comport herself with refinement.” She moderated her tone to reflect the manners she was describing to a rather comedic effect, ticking off the list of many qualities on her fingers. “She must take care of your children and mold them appropriately, never act rashly, and be completely amenable to all of your wishes, requirements, and demands.”

  Malcolm snorted softly. “You’re not far off.”

  Beth laughed a little, returning to her usual self. “So, what went wrong?”

  He took the opportunity to look out over the grounds and sighed. “None of them were Caroline.”

  She made a soft noise of understanding, then clucked her tongue. “Malcolm… Neither am I.”

  “I know that all too well.” He tossed a grin at her, then sobered. “With you, it was different. I couldn’t remember any of the requirements I had in mind, but I knew that you would be perfect.” He suddenly searched her features with a burning intensity he did not expect. “It didn’t make sense until I came back and saw you with them. I lost myself in my business in London, as I usually do, and when I returned, I realized that I was no longer needed. It was you they needed, not me.”

  Beth shook her head, put her hands on her hips, and suddenly look disapproving. “There you go again.”

  He reared back a little. “What do you mean?”

  “You said last night that you were not needed,” she told him, her brow puckering, “and you’ve just said it again. Is that why you have been distancing yourself from your children since Caroline’s death? Because I know all about your lengthy trips to London, which have only extended since then.”

  Well, that could not be entirely true. Beth couldn’t know all about them, as no one knew their true purpose, but her instinct was spot-on. “It was easier than being here,” he replied in a low voice. “They didn’t want me, they wanted her. I have been useless! Hardly a father at all.”

  She slapped his arm with surprising sharpness, bringing him out of himself. “Of course, they wanted her, Malcolm, but that didn’t mean they didn’t want you!” She sighed and looped her arm through his, rubbing the spot she had hit. “I cannot imagine having to face them and this place without her, but you cannot avoid it all simply to save yourself the pain.”

  “I know,” he rasped, his throat closing with emotion.

  Beth leaned her head against him, and he found that oddly comforting.

  “I like feeling needed,” he eventually admitted. “The idea of a purpose, a conviction, something to drive me. I was jealous of you last night, handling everything so perfectly without any assistance from me. You didn’t need me at all, and I didn’t mean to marry someone so capable.”

  She chuckled and looked up at him. “I doubt you’ll need to play the hero for me, Malcolm, but that does not render you useless by any stretch. Do you know who truly needs you? Your children. You keep telling me that I am not their mother, but at this moment, I am the closest thing to a parent they have. I realize that I am not Caroline, but I have a sense that she would agree with me about this.”

  Malcolm laughed humorlessly. “If she were here, she would have my head.”

  Beth grinned broadly. “There you have it. Both of your wives are telling you to be a father. Are you going to listen to us?”

  He laughed again and gave her a look. “I don’t suppose I have any other course, do I?”

  “Not one I’d recommend,” she quipped, a twinkle appearing in her dark eyes. She sobered only slightly, her expression softening. “Malcolm, I’ve been trying to be capable for you, to keep you from regretting your decision to marry me. I won’t apologize if I have succeeded in my efforts, not even to salvage your pride.”

  “I would never ask you to,” he broke in, his words rushed.

  She smiled a bit further. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t need you, either.”

  The quiet admission stunned him. His wife had taken the life he had given her by the reins and steered it on a more perfect and precise course than he could have expected. She had mastered the intricacies and details with ease and given his children a chance to return to a childhood of joy. And she was claiming to need him? How? Where? His mind staggered at the implications, and he was suddenly eager to know just what she meant.

  But Beth remained blissfully unaware of any of her husband’s racing thoughts and only smiled. “It does, however,” she went on, “mean that you do not get the pleasure of kissing me again until you want to kiss me.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly,” he affirmed, his response more earnest than he’d meant it to be. “You deserve nothing less.”

  Beth’s dimple appeared briefly, and she gave him a playful, prim nod, then slid her arm from his and started back towards the house.
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  He watched her go for a moment with something stirring in his heart, forming the oddest desire to smile. He liked his wife. He liked her a great deal. The trial of a morning he had expected with her had, instead, been invigorating and freeing. It was the most meaningful conversation he’d had in months, if not years. He saw the promise of a fond friendship between them, if nothing else.

  But if he were to be perfectly frank with himself, and perfectly aware of his current state, he would have to admit that there was very little chance that it would be nothing else.

  “Beth?” he called softly.

  She turned back to face him, her pale skirts twisting about her legs slightly in the grass.

  He gave her a hint of a smile. “I don’t think you’ll have to wait very long.”

  Beth’s eyes widened, and she blinked slowly. Then she tucked an invisible strand of hair behind her ear as her cheeks colored, her eyes darting about for something else to look at. She turned back around and continued up to the house, her pace quicker than before.

  Malcolm’s smile spread swiftly at that.

  He rather liked seeing his wife’s discomfiture when he flattered her. She was a beautiful woman to any set of eyes, but when she looked like that? He liked it rather a lot.

  And he had half a mind to do it again.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next several days were markedly different for the pair of them, and Malcolm was growing more attached to his wife by the day. By the hour, if truth be told, but that was only today. At least, he hoped it was only today. He really could make no promises.

  Somehow, between the breakfast meal and that of luncheon, he had sought her out three times, on perfectly legitimate matters. Each time, he’d found her doing rather menial tasks, though equally legitimate. She never seemed to mind, and somehow, she was lovelier each time he saw her. Whether she was going over the menu with Mrs. Rawlins or responding to a letter from her mother, she was pleased to see him either way and did not seem to mind the interruptions. Capably and perfectly, she’d answered each of his questions, all of which could easily have waited for a later time to be presented to her collectively.