Page 5 of The Major’s Mistake (Intrepid Heroines #7)

A small boy darted out from one of the stalls.

Head bet low, he ran in zigzag steps in the direction of Julian and his horse.

So intent was he on pursuing something that was slithering through the dust with astonishing quickness that he didn’t spy the visitors until he was nearly upon the two of them.

“Grab it!” he cried, making a last ditch dive to catch the creature’s tail.

The stallion shied violently. It took a moment for the marquess to bring the skittish animal under control, and by that time, the l corn snake had raced between his boots and was lost to sight among the tall grasses at the edge of the paddock.

The boy gave up the chase and fixed Julian with a baleful look that made clear his disappointment, both with his own efforts and those of the gentleman before him.

“If you had been quicker, you might have got it,” he said rather pointedly, brushing at a large streak of dirt down the middle of his jacket. “It went right by your feet.”

A pronounced sigh followed. “I have always wanted just such a colorful snake, but I suppose I shall have to ask Angus to catch one for me.”

Julian repressed his amusement at being scolded by a child barely out of leading strings. “My sincere apologies, lad, but had I let go of the reins, my horse might have bolted and caused you some harm.

The loss of the snake appeared quickly forgiven as the boy stared up with undisguised admiration at the magnificent bay towering above him.

“What a real top o’ the trees horse—” The words cut off as a guilty expression stole over his face.

“Oh! Mama say I’m not to repeat certain expressions I hear in the stable. ”

Julian’s lips twitched again. “I don’t think she need be informed of this little slip, especially since he is, as you say, truly top o’ the trees. He served me well in the Peninsula.”

The little boy’s eyes widened even more. “You were in the Army? Oh, how grand! Jem is forever telling me about all the battles, and what heroes our men are. Were you a general like Wellesley?”

The marquess couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m afraid not. Just a lowly major, lad.”

He mulled that over for a moment before deciding he was still suitably impressed. “I suppose a major is not too shabby,” he allowed.

“I shall try to measure up to such high praise,” murmured Julian dryly.

The lad’s gaze was still riveted on the Marquess’s mount. “I’ve never seen such a big stallion. May I pet him?”

“Just a moment.” Julian took careful hold of his mount’s bridle. “He can be skittish with strangers,” he explained. “Now you may touch him, if you like.”

The little boy’s fingers brushed against the horse’s nose and he gave a delighted giggle as the tongue flicked out and left them wet and sticky. After wiping them on the front of his jacket, he ventured to reach up and scratch behind the ears.

To the marquess’s surprise, the high-strung animal tolerated the attention with an uncharacteristic docility.

As the boy spoke in low tones to the stallion, Julian regarded him with some curiosity, wondering just how he belonged here.

His clothing was simple but of good quality and cut.

It seemed most unlikely he was the child of a mere washerwoman or hired?—

His thoughts were interrupted by yet another question. “What’s his name, Major? And may I have a ride on him?”

“His name is Zeus. As to the ride, I suppose it would do no harm to take you up for a short time.”

“Oh, thank you.” The boy gave a wide grin as he continued to stroke the velvety tip of the stallion’s nose. “That’s a very fine name. He is big and powerful, just like Zeus in the stories.”

”You know the Greek myths?”

He nodded. “My mama reads them to me at night. And I am learning about all the English Kings from Miss MacKenzie, and my letters and sums as well. I can even write my name,” he added proudly. Bending over, he traced some large letters in the dirt with his finger. “See?”

“Justin,” read the Marquess. “That’s a fine name, too. He held out his hand. “I’m Sterling.”

Justin shook it gravely. “That’s a funny name. Even funnier than Angus.”

“That is not my Christian name. It’s my—well, it’s my title.”

“I like Major better.” Justin’s eyes went from the toes of the Marquess’s polished Hessians to the immaculate riding coat and silk cravat to the curly brimmed beaver hat. “Are you a real gentleman, then?”

“Well, yes, I suppose I am.”

Oh, I’ve never met a real gentleman before.” The boy paused for a moment. “What kind of gentleman?”

“I am a marquess, lad.”

“A marquess?” repeated Justin slowly. “Do you have a grand castle with turrets and towers and dungeons. Is it near here?”

Julian laughed. “No, my main estate is far away, and even that might prove a sad disappointment to you. No ghosts, no chains, no drawbridge.”

The boy did indeed look slightly disappointed. “Then I should prefer to be a Major?—”

A call from inside the stalls interrupted his words. “Justin! Where have you gone off to?”

“I’m here, Mama. With the major. He said I might have a ride on his horse and?—”

Miranda came outside and stopped short on catching sight of the little boy in conversation with the marquess. “Justin!” she repeated rather sharply. “Please go up to the house.”

“But Mama?—”

“This instant, young man.”

The boy shot a last longing look at stallion and the marquess, then set off with a reluctant step, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket.

Julian stared at the retreating form, feeling a strange tangle of emotion begin to knot inside him.

“I was not aware you had a child,” he said tightly after some moments of silence.

“Aunt Sophia never mentioned it in any of her letters. He must be nearly of an age to be …” As he spoke, his gaze darted down to take in her roughened fingers, devoid of any ring.

Before she could make any reply, he blurted out.

“Why didn’t you marry whoever the father was, once you were free? ”

An inscrutable expression passed over her face before she regained a measure of control. “Justin’s father didn’t want me for a wife.”

The marquess furrowed his brow. “I thought—” Suddenly he stopped and his throat became so tight he could scarcely speak. “What are you saying?”

Miranda drew in a deep breath and looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

She started to follow her son, but his hand reached out to take her arm. “Oh, but I think it matters a great deal.” His fingers clenched like a vise. “Am … am I … his father?”

Miranda went very pale but made no answer.

“For God’s sake, tell me. I have a right to know.”

There were several long moments of silence before she answered, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes.”

He swallowed hard. “You are … sure?”

She fixed him with a look of utter contempt. “It is you who are the bastard, milord, not my son. She tried to pull free of his grasp, but he kept a firm hold. “Let go of me!”

“No. We must talk?—”

“I have nothing more to say to you.”

“It is imperative we discuss his future?—”

“Is something wrong, m’lady?” The hulking figure of Angus appeared from behind the stable door. His shirtsleeves were rolled up around his massive forearms and a large pitchfork was dangling from one hand. He took a deliberate step closer to Miranda.

“His Lordship was just taking his leave,” she said. “If he needs assistance, you may heave his well-tailored rump into the saddle for him.”

Angus narrowed his eyes. “Auch, with pleasure, m’lady.”

Julian slowly released his hold. There was little point in pressing things any further at the moment—indeed, his mind was still reeling from the stunning revelation that he had a son.

“Very well, I shall take my leave for today. But rest assured, you have not seen the last of me.”

Miranda bit her lip, then, with an abrupt turn, she hurried off toward the manor house.

Angus glowered at the Marquess and took another step closer. Julian met the other man’s eyes without a waver. His lips set in a grim line as he thrust his boot into the stirrup.

“Until later.”

Miranda grabbed up a pair of worn stockings and jammed them into the small canvas valise. With a ragged sigh, she pulled open another drawer and began to take out the rest of her meager belongings.

So much for the assurance that the Marquess of Sterling never set foot in this area, she fumed. She knew she should never have left Scotland. How dare he appear to overturn her life once more!

Well, she wouldn’t have it. Not yet . They would come to grips with their son’s future when she decided it was time, not when he ordered her to do so.

The door to her bedchamber opened a crack, then Lady Thornton slipped in. “Miranda! What in heaven’s name are you doing? ”

Miranda didn’t answer, but opened the pine armoire and removed her only other gown.

“What is wrong, child?” continued her aunt. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

She stopped in the midst of stuffing the faded muslin in with the other items. “I have.”

Lady Thornton looked totally at a loss.

Miranda took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of her bed. “He’s here.”

“ Julian?” The other lady gave a slight gasp. “Julian is here?” Her hand came to her throat. “You … saw him?”

She nodded, not daring to speak for a moment.

“Last evening. We met by chance while I was gathering herbs by the lake. Then he … he came here this morning while you were visiting Mrs. Trowbridge.” Her voice wavered.

He saw Justin. I had hoped that he might not think overly on the matter—but he was never a gudgeon, was he? Despite his other faults.”

“Oh, Miranda.” Lady Thornton sat down. “Does he know, then?”

She nodded again, unable to hide the pain in her eyes. “That is, if he believes me,” she added with a trace of bitterness.

Her aunt reached over to touch her hand. “What were you planning to do?”

“Go back to Scotland!” Her voice broke in a near sob. “That is, if you will lend me the money. I swear, I shall pay it back. I … I shall go into service if I have to?—”

“Calm yourself, my dear. It shall never come to that. If you are determined to return to Scotland, I shall of course come with you.” She paused for a moment.

“I only ask that you consider it carefully. Naturally you are extremely upset at the moment, but are you very sure this is the right decision? You know you will have to face it at some time. Perhaps it’s best done now, when Justin is young. ”

Miranda brushed at a tear. “Oh, Aunt Sophia—I don’t know!”

“Think on it tonight, at least,” she counseled.

“Very well.” Her eyes fell away to the tiny miniature of her son perched on the stand by her bed. “What would you do?” she asked after a long silence.

Lady Thornton shook her head sadly. “It is a choice only you can make, Miranda. But I have every confidence you will make the right one.”