Page 4 of A Stormy Season

“We must allow this lady to be on her way. Come.” Mr. Watley looked up at Jane, raising his brows. “Please forgive us.”

Jeffrey giggled as if it was a hilarious game they were playing.

“Nothing to forgive,” Jane said, and squatted beside the boy, taking his hand in hers. “Are you playing hide-and-seek? May I play too?”

He nodded, then darted away. His father made a move to snatch him, but Jeffrey remained just out of reach, still giggling adorably.

“Please excuse me. I am so sorry,” Mr. Watley called as he ran past.

Jane hid her laugh behind her hand as she watched the man chase his son down. He swung Jeffrey up in his arms and around in a circle, then tossed him in the air a few inches, catching him and sending the child into peals of laughter. Then he started back toward Jane, carrying Jeffrey under his arm as if he was a sack of flour.

“Forgive my bad manners. Miss Jane Gilchrist, is it?”

“Yes, and you are Mr. Luke Watley.”

“I am, and this is my incorrigible son, Jeffrey.”

Jeffrey was struggling to get away. “Down!” he cried.

“Tell Miss Gilchrist you are sorry for grabbing onto her, for that is not how a gentleman treats a lady.” He set the child gently on the ground.

Jeffrey looked uncertainly at Jane. “I sorry.” Immediately he grabbed her hand again and demanded, “You play.”

Jane couldn’t help laughing. “What shall we play?”

“Chase me!” he said, and started running.

On his short little legs Jeffrey was easy to catch, but Jane only pretended to run, saying, “You run so fast!” while trotting along behind him.

How thankful she was that no one was in the park to see her! They would surely think she was flirting with Mr. Watley, making herself ridiculous by playing with his son in the park, more shameless than those young ladies hovering around him two nights ago at the ball.

But she was not flirting with Mr. Watley. She enjoyed small children. They were adorable and innocent and unspoiled by the world. They didn’t judge, weren’t ashamed of anyone or anything, and were unfailingly honest. And Mr. Watley’s motherless child was as adorable as any little boy she’d ever seen. How could she ever say no to a request to play with him?

Jane caught hold of the back of Jeffrey's clothes, then pretended she couldn’t hold on and let go. This sent the child into more squeals and peals of laughter.

Finally, he stopped and fell to the ground, turning those big, beautiful eyes on her, almost begging to be tickled. So she obliged, gently tickling his sides. He laughed again, but then she stopped tickling him so he could catch his breath. He lay staring up at her with the most serene smile on his lips.

“I am afraid you have done it now,” Mr. Watley whispered, while the child was chattering to himself. “He doesn’t relinquish playmates easily. He will probably demand you come home with him and play for the rest of the day.”

“Chase me,” Jeffrey said, pushing up onto his feet and motioning to Jane.

She chased him until he got distracted by the young man nearby who was giving his horse different commands—galloping, then trotting, stopping and walking, then galloping again.

A few more people were now out taking their morning exercise, and most of them were watching Jane and Mr. Watley and his son scampering about the park. And Jane could just imagine what they were thinking and saying behind their gloved hands. No doubt they were accusing Jane of running after Mr. Watley while pretending interest in his child. But let them talk. Though Jane despised being misunderstood, not to mention being accused of throwing herself at a man, she mustn’t let other people dictate how she spent her time.

She caught Mr. Watley glancing around at the people watching them, including a man who suddenly turned and walked away.

“We really should go.” Mr. Watley’s countenance was abruptly sober. He picked up his wriggling son. “Forgive us for taking up your time, Miss Gilchrist.”

“Not at all. I enjoyed playing with Jeffrey.”

Jane forced herself not to take Jeffrey’s outstretched hand as the child began to call out, “Miss Gilch’ist!” mimicking his father, though unable to say therin her name. But Mr. Watley was obviously determined to part from her, as he turned and walked away with his son still calling out and starting to cry.

Well, that was abrupt.Had Mr. Watley been so afraid of the gossips speaking ill of Jane that he would take his son and depart, as if his life depended on getting away from her? Or had he seen someone in particular who had compelled him to go? Either way, his behavior seemed odd.

She needn’t care what Mr. Watley thought any more than she cared about the gossips. But her heart did ache a little at the last sight of the handsome boy still reaching out to her as he rounded a bend in the path, his high-pitched voice calling out to her.

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