Page 28 of Her Noble Groom

Chapter twenty-two

A moon passed before Thomasse next saw James. She visited the stable nearly every day, but he was never to be found. She feared he was avoiding her, but the other servants assured her that his duties demanded his presence elsewhere.

Finally, on a warm June evening, she found him mucking out the stalls. “James, I—”

He paused and leaned on the pitchfork, waiting, not saying a word.

She swallowed; her prepared words vanished like fog in the morning sun. “The weather is much improved since we last spoke.”

James said nothing, his eyes hooded. Her heart skipped. He looked incredibly handsome with his hair disheveled, sweat glistening on his brow. She had expected anger in those amber eyes, but there was only quiet forbearance.

“I owe you an apology. My behavior was unbecoming of a lady.”

“What truly brings you here?”

“I have come to make amends,” Thomasse replied. “I just do not understand why you took me to the cottage.”

“It belongs to me. That is our home.”

“How?” The words caught in her throat. “When my father and I arrived, you told me the old man who lived there had died.”

“That is true. I inherited the cottage from my grandfather.”

Her gaze darted about the stable. “But you sleep here?”

James sagged against the stall gate. “After Becca died, I could not bear to go back there. I hoped we could make new memories—” His voice cracked. “Replace the bad with something good.”

She rested a hand on his arm. “I am sorry. It seems that place holds painful memories for both of us.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Dear God, forgive me. I did not consider how going there would affect you.”

“Of course, I forgive you.” Thomasse stepped back. “I need you to understand—I am not ready to make it my home. I may never be.”

His grip tightened on the pitchfork. “Why must you toy with me? One moment you ask forgiveness, the next you reject me.” He returned to pitching soiled rushes from the stall, and the stable filled with the scent of freshly disturbed dung.

The tension in his muscles and the force of his movements betrayed his frustration.

“That is not my intent. I hope we can be friends.”

“That is not enough for me. I want a true wife or nothing. You have what you want, a ring on your finger, your future as governess secured.” James leaned the pitchfork against the wall. “Excuse me.”

Thomasse watched as he stalked from the stable and disappeared down the path. She walked slowly back to the manor house, fearing she had only made things worse. In all her youthful dreams, this was not how she pictured marriage.

T homasse threw herself into preparing and teaching lessons for Philippe and William. On this warm summer day, Philippe and William refused to settle down.

“Can we pack a basket and go for an outing?” Philippe asked.

Thomasse wiped the sweat from the back of her neck. “You can play once your lessons are complete.”

“It has been a long while since we had an outdoor lesson. And William never.” She noted the mischievous look in Philippe’s eyes, realizing there would be no deterring him. “We can study plants and catch lizards.”

The babe squirmed, and her heart squeezed. Perhaps it was trying to tell her the room was too muggy, that the cool breeze off the bay was the ideal way to spend the afternoon. Her hand drifted to her belly, amazed at how much she had come to love someone she had yet to meet.

“That sounds like a wonderful plan. I will ask the cook to prepare a basket while the two of you put away your things. Bring the nets, and I will meet you on the hillock.”

“Yes!” William jumped out of his chair. “You are the best governess.”

She laughed. “I will remind you of that next time you complain about your reading assignment.”

Quitting the room, she lumbered down the stairs. At least, that was how she felt nowadays. With her expanding girth, she was no longer light on her feet, and she tired more quickly.

At the cookhouse, she was not surprised when the cook handed her an already prepared basket of victuals. Philippe. She should have guessed by the look in his eyes earlier that he had pre-planned it.

When she reached the crest of the hillock, the boys were practicing fighting, their wooden swords clacking as they feinted, blocked, and parried. She found an even spot beneath an alder tree, not far from where the boys had left their nets.

Opening the basket, she laid out the blanket along with a repast of cold chicken, cheese, berries, bread, a flask of ale, and another of milk.

The amount of food seemed excessive for three people, but maybe the cook figured two growing boys and a woman quick with child required larger portions.

When she withdrew four trenchers and four tankards, Philippe’s purpose became clear.

The grass swished, and Thomasse’s gaze darted toward the noise. James stood nearby, his face blank—he looked tired.

She smiled nervously. “Hello, James. This is a pleasant surprise.” She patted the blanket. “Come, join us. There is plenty.”

“I must decline,” he replied. “Philippe asked me to meet him here, that is all.”

Philippe called out. “William, James and Thomasse are here.” The two boys stopped fighting and raced over, tossing their swords down beside the nets.

She gave Philippe a stern look. “Did you arrange this? ”

His body wiggled with excitement. “I did. You and James are my two favorite people—” Philippe looked at his best friend, “after William. I do not know what happened, but I want you to be friends again.”

James glared at Philippe. “It was wrong of you to interfere.” He turned to Thomasse. “If you wish to speak with me, come to me yourself.” He turned on his heel and began striding down the hillock.

“James,” Thomasse called after him. “Please, stay. Truly, I was not a party to this. Let us not disappoint the boys after they went to so much effort.”

James returned and settled beneath the tree. The boys chattered on about who was better at swordplay, then about their plans to hunt lizards and bugs after they ate.

Thomasse filled the trenchers and handed them around. She watched James through lowered lashes as they ate, trying to assess his mood. As the meal progressed, he relaxed, teasing the boys, and offering suggestions on the best way to capture voles and dragonflies.

When the boys finished eating, they grabbed their nets and raced down the hillock toward the stream that wended behind the stable and the chapel.

James drained his tankard of ale and stood. “Thank you for the victuals.”

Thomasse reached out to him. “Do not go. We have many things to discuss.”

“Like—”

She took a deep breath. After how badly she had blundered last time, she had no idea how the conversation would go. “The babe will arrive in a few months. Whether a boy or a girl, it will need a father.”

J ames heaved a sigh and sat back down. With Thomasse, he never knew what to expect.

She had changed since she first arrived in Jersey, even from when they had first declared their love.

When they became betrothed two springs ago, she was the one who suggested they lie together, declare themselves man and wife, and face the consequences together.

He was the one who insisted on following the rules—getting her father’s blessing and the seigneur’s permission.

But now they were married, she had made it clear she had no intention of living with him as his wife.

And now she was requesting he be a father to her child. “How do we build a life together, become a family, when you refuse to live as my wife?”

“I have agonized many a night over our situation.” Her mouth pinched. “It is not you I have rejected, but living in that cottage.”

“So what do you propose?” James asked. “There is not room to live with my parents, and I doubt you would be amenable to sleeping in the stable. With my status as a groom, the seigneur and demoiselle would never agree to my entering their private family quarters.”

“I am fully aware of the rules of propriety,” Thomasse replied. “That places us at a difficult crossroads. Are there no other options?”

James’s jaw tightened. “Most people have not the luxury of abandoning their homes because of painful memories. What do you suggest?”

Thomasse shrugged. “I do not know.” She picked at her skirt, brushing away the crumbs. She needed to be bold, to be honest with him.

“I wish you could understand how overwhelmed I feel—the pressure of teaching two boys, becoming your wife, and soon, a mother.” Her voice lowered. “And I am still trying to make peace with what happened that day.”

He reached for her hand, his heart melting. “I could understand if you would just help me.”

A tear glistened in her eye, and she ducked her head. “I fear if I speak plainly, you will despise me. You deserve better than me.”

James placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face until she met his gaze. “Whole or broken—I love you. We can work this through together.”