The Duke and His Duchess - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,32
sported a brogue as he got older. “I received another letter from Mr. O’Dea.”
Devlin glanced at her when she switched to English. “Mr. O’Dea lives back home.”
Back home was a place the boy would have little memory of, or so Kathleen hoped. She’d visited only once during Devlin’s short lifetime. “He does. He asked after you.”
Devlin made no reply, remaining focused on his cards. Billy O’Dea always asked after “the boy,” but his sentiments regarding Devlin were one reason why Kathleen hadn’t made any more trips back to Ireland. With the tolerant pragmatism of a man who knew exactly how Kathleen earned her livelihood, Billy—like Kathleen’s own family—believed Devlin’s best chance for a good start in life lay in throwing the boy on his father’s charity, and Billy was not wrong.
He was also not going to offer marriage unless or until Kathleen heeded his advice. On that tired thought, wind rattled the glass and fluttered the curtains, bringing an icy draft into the room.
And winter was only getting started. Kathleen thought of the vile things Gregory Pelham had whispered in her ear as she earned her coin with him like a doxy in his mews, and wanted to retch.
“One day soon, we’re going back to visit your papa’s wife again.”
Devlin turned up a pair of queens and smiled. “Will she give me more chocolate?”
“Yes. She’ll give you more chocolate. As much chocolate as you can drink.”
Without making a sound, Kathleen started to cry.
***
“Your papa has asked us to return to Morelands. You’ll like that, won’t you?” Esther adopted the cheery tones of a parent bent on deceiving small children, though from the look Bart and Gayle exchanged, she’d failed miserably.
Gayle kicked at the dead leaves on the frozen ground. Bart dropped Esther’s hand and skipped ahead a few steps. “I like the park. If we go home, we can’t play in the park. Papa visits with us more here too. I like when Papa visits.”
Gayle echoed the complaint as they wandered along the Serpentine, cold winter sunlight bouncing off the water in the middle of the lake. Near the shore, ice had once again formed. Esther resisted the urge to find a rock and pitch it hard at the ice, lest the boys complain about missing the Serpentine too.
“Papa will be home at Christmas,” Esther said, “and that’s just a few weeks away.” Though Percival hadn’t promised to return to Morelands at Christmas.
Bart’s face lit up with glee as he pointed at a rider coming down the path on a chestnut stallion. “There’s Papa! Maybe he’ll let me ride home with him!”
Predictably, Gayle planted his mittened fists on his little hips. “That’s not fair! You got to ride with Papa last time, and it’s my turn.”
Percival Windham was so handsome, he nearly took Esther’s breath away. Mounted, he had a sort of rugged elegance that the painted town dandies in their clocked stockings and high heels would never achieve. And yet, that wasn’t why she loved him. She loved him because when he spotted them, he swung off his horse and held out his hands to the boys.
“My first and second lieutenants, scouting the wilds of Hyde Park in search of the general’s beautiful, lost daughter. I see you’ve found the poor, wandering damsel.”
“That’s not a damsel,” Gayle said, grabbing his father’s hand. “That’s Mama.”
“Why so it is.” Percival made her an elaborate bow, likely for the sake of his sons. Esther bobbed a curtsy for the same reason, when she wanted to tear a strip off her handsome, charming, randy husband for no reason in particular.
“Take me up, Papa!” Bart started. “I want to ride on Comet.”
“It’s my turn,” Gayle bellowed over his brother’s pleading.
Percival picked Gayle up and sat him on Comet’s empty saddle, then swung Bart up behind his brother. “Hush, the both of you. If you spook my horse, you’re likely to land in something objectionable, and your mama will not be pleased. Madam?” He winged his arm at her, and Esther felt a lump lodge in her throat.
“My thanks.” She tucked her hand over his arm, while with his free hand, Percival led the horse—now sporting a pair of pirate princes intent on plundering London from the back of their equine ship.
“Are you prepared to leave for Morelands in the morning, Wife?”
No. “Almost. There are a few things that can’t be packed up until shortly before we leave, and things the children will want in the coach.”
“A storybook or two?”
“Several storybooks, their favorite blankets, their