She regarded her son searchingly. His tone as much as his manner alerted her to something going on beneath the surface. "It's what your father wanted."
"Was it what you wanted?"
"What I wanted didn't matter. It's what's best for you."
"So if the decision was yours alone, you wouldn't send me away?"
Dear heaven, where was this coming from? "I didn't send you away."
"Yes, you did."
She clenched her hands in her skirts as disquiet knotted her stomach. Her son had hidden his true feelings from her. Which hurt. And made her feel guilty. "I thought you liked school."
He shrugged. "It's all right. It's been better since Carey started."
She loathed to hear that he was miserable—and that he hadn't confided in her. "You never said anything."
"I didn't want to upset you." He looked startlingly adult, and she had a sudden, poignant vision of him as a man. "The way I've upset you now."
"Devil take you, lad," Mr. Townsend growled. "I won't have you worrying your mother."
When he stepped forward, Fenella caught his arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Mrs. Penn's avid expression. "No, he's right to tell me. He should have told me before. Brand, I'm so sorry. Is that why you ran away?"
Brandon dipped his bright head and shuffled his feet, and returned to looking like an eleven-year-old boy. "No, of course not. I'd never be so craven as to run away just because I was unhappy."
Which meant he had been miserable. The guilt pierced deeper. How could she not have known?
"Come here," she said huskily. He shot her a quick grin and slipped under her arm. She hugged him close to her side, grateful all over again that he'd come out of his adventure in one piece.
Carey, who had remained a silent observer, scrambled to stand. "I told Brand I had to see Penny, and he said no true friend would let me go without someone to watch my back." When he smiled at the old lady, Fenella's heart went out to the motherless child, so gallant, so fragile. "I had to come, Penny. You're family."
"You must have known I'd bring you down to see Penny if you asked me," Mr. Townsend said austerely. "By the way, how the hell did you get here so quickly?"
"Language, Master Tony," Penny said repressively. "There's a lady present."
The faint pink in his cheeks charmed Fenella, but he wasn't about to let Carey off the hook. "Well, young man?"
"I used my birthday money to pay Old Jock's nephew to take us."
"Did you indeed
? And who, pray tell, is Old Jock?"
"He's one of the school gardeners. His nephew Fergus is first rate. You'll like him."
"I rather doubt it. Is he still here?"
"No, he had to get the cart back to Bray to take the piglets to market."
"So you see, we were never in danger," Brand said staunchly.
Mr. Townsend looked unconvinced. "You've worried your poor mother sick. You worried her so much that she trusted her safety to a stranger and sat in an open carriage all night. She didn't get a wink of sleep for fear of what might happen to you."
"It wasn't…" Fenella began, but faltered under his direct gaze. Because of course, it had been exactly like that. Her grip on her son tightened as she recalled how frantic she'd been for his safety.
Carey raised his chin, increasing his resemblance to his uncle. "I deserve a beating."
"Yes," Brand said with less conviction. Fenella had never raised a hand to her child, much as that had incurred Henry's mother's disapproval. He stepped out of her embrace, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "Although I did write to Mamma to tell her."