Free The Bride's Secret by Cheryl Bolen Page A

his thumb shoved into his little mouth, big tears puddling on his face. Thankfully, she saw no blood.
     

 
    Chapter 8
     
    Carlotta flew across the nursery's wooden floor and fell to her knees in front of her son, drawing him into her arms. “Stevie, my love, what's wrong?”
    “I'm afwayed to be up here by myself.”
    She held him tightly against her, gently stroking his quivering back, her eyes filling with tears.
    Memories of her own fears when she was no older than Stevie rushed over her. She'd been terrified to be in her own chamber without her nurse—even during the day. It was so vast and dark and frequently cold—a testament to her grandmother's thriftiness. Yet she'd never told anyone of her fright. She had merely huddled in a corner and cried. Like Stevie.
    Her child's suffering was like a raw wound in her heart. “Oh, my love, I'm so grievously sorry. I didn't realize . . .” She gathered him closer to her, the tears now running freely down her cheeks. “I give you my word, you'll never be left alone again.”
    She scooped him up in her arms and carried him downstairs to the drawing room. There, she sat beside the fire and settled him on her lap as she began to read him a children's book.
    Soon Stevie was giggling over the talking animals in the book, and there was no sign of the tears that had so recently ravaged him. As they sat reading, a hazy sun broke through the clouds.
    “Go get your coat on, sweetheart,” Carlotta said to him, swatting at his bottom. “I'm taking you to the Pump Room.” Her stomach dropped perceptibly as she thought of the icy reception she was sure to get there. But as long as Lord Rutledge wasn't around to see her shame, she could suffer it. Stevie had always expressed an interest in drinking the miraculous water there, and she would devote this day to making her son happy, to making him forget his distress.
    Once he was at the Pump Room, though, the water did not hold as much interest as the orchestra which played on a balcony high above the lofty chamber. Stevie craned his little neck to watch them. Carlotta soon realized the lad had never before seen musical instruments being played.
    “You'll strain your neck,” she cautioned, taking his hand and moving forward. “You must be a gentleman and escort your Mama around the room. It's what one does when one comes to the Pump Room.”
    Stevie wrinkled his brow as he concentrated on being a gentleman. He took long strides as he clutched his mother's hand.
    “I believe all the ladies in the room will be jealous of me,” she said with mirth, “for I most undoubtedly have the most handsome escort of all.”
    He was unable to the hide the smile which slid across his face, though he tried to act like a grown-up man. “Wemembah when Lord Wutledge said he mistook me for a short man?” He giggled.
    Carlotta burst out laughing. The earl was so very good with children.
    “I've missed his lordship,” Stevie said solemnly.
    Her thoughts exactly. “I have too, darling, but he has a big estate that demands his attention, too. We can't have him all the time.”
    “I wish you'd marry him so we could always be with him.”
    The smile vanished from her face. As highly as she regarded the earl, she had not once considered herself suitable to be his countess. A conquest of such grand proportions had never even crossed her mind. Yet the very thought of it set her insides trembling.
    Not only was he not married, he had also remarked frequently on her beauty. And how could she forget that he had spread his protective cloak around her, smothering her in his care? Yet she had not once considered him a suitor.
    Her heart drummed. It was because she was so ruined. She was not fit to even give thought to such a misalliance. The earl deserved far better.
    And of course, Lord Rutledge's only interest in her was as the wife of Stephen Ennis and the mother of the fallen captain's young son. That was all.
    Stevie looked up at her strained face.