Making of a Scandal - Victoria Vale Page 0,50

babe of at least two years onto her hip, bouncing and murmuring to the child as naturally as if she’d birthed him herself. Nick leaned against the door frame and watched as Martin Lewes made his way over to Calliope. His teeth clenched as the man stood far too close, bending his head to murmur something in her ear. She smiled at him, then urged the baby in his direction. Lewes faltered, brow furrowed as if uncertain, but Calliope offered him an encouraging smile and said something Nick couldn’t make out. His teeth began to ache from the grinding motion of his jaw, something unpleasant and unmistakable washing over him at the sight of them together, Calliope handing the baby into Lewes’s arms and looking at him with such adoration in her eyes that it made him feel physically ill.

He didn’t want to acknowledge what he felt, but the longer he watched them, the more apparent it became.

He was jealous. No, that was too mild a term, though it was the only one that would do, it seemed. He was beset by mind-numbing, jaw clenching, belly-churning, murderous jealousy. Because, watching them coddle a baby between them only made him think of the fact that eventually, these two would have offspring of their own. It didn’t matter that Lewes looked uncomfortable and completely unnatural holding the babe, or that they had made no real progress toward an eventual marriage. If Nick did his job well, they’d be wed by the end of the year, which meant babies would follow close behind.

And that only made him think of what a couple needed to do in order to procreate, which made the itchy, burning sensation of envy all the worse. He felt like he would burst out of his skin at the thought of Lewes taking Calliope to bed—a privilege that could never be Nick’s.

“They look lovely together, do they not?”

Nick blinked and found Diana at his side, bouncing a sleeping newborn.

“Yes,” he forced himself to admit, though the word tasted rancid on his lips. They were well matched, Lewes’s golden coloring a sharp but pleasant contrast to Calliope’s dark beauty.

“Of course, nothing is guaranteed. Lewes has been slow to declare himself. Who knows? Perhaps another admirer will make himself known and provide a bit of real competition.”

Nick scowled, already annoyed at the thought of another man vying for Calliope’s attention. He was having a difficult enough time keeping his violent impulses in check when Lewes was near.

Diana’s smile became sly, her eyes glittering with girlish mischief. “Oh yes. I can see it happening, even now.”

He was startled to realize that she was referring to him. Which was ridiculous. He had been hired to help her catch the other man, and Diana herself had been behind the idea. What a ridiculous thing for her to suggest! He absolutely couldn’t pursue Calliope, no matter how difficult it was to keep his eyes or his hands off her. It was out of the question.

“I’m so sorry to have to leave you now, little one,” Calliope cooed to her baby before setting him back on the rug in a scattered circling of toys. “But I must look in on the other children. I will see you again soon, sweeting.”

She patted the top of the child’s head, prompting the other ladies to return their babies and prepare to move on. Several longing looks were cast back into the nursery, but they eventually made their way back downstairs only to find that the large, airy room where the children spent their downtime was now overrun. Having just finished their luncheon, they’d apparently been allowed a reprieve before they must return to their studies.

Nick could only stand and take it all in. Mismatched chairs were arranged near a hearth flanked by large bookcases. Some of the older children sat there to read, one with what looked like a younger sibling perched on his knee as he related his story aloud. Tin soldiers were engaged in a mock battle in the hands of little boys in one corner, while dolls were rocked and coddled by girls in the other. Balls flew back and forth, skipping ropes whipped through the air, and spinning tops skittered across the floorboards. The din was nearly deafening, an amalgamation of laughter, shouts, and indistinguishable words.

Their company dispersed, Lewes sticking close to Calliope as she skirted the perimeter of the room, she with her notes and pencil at the ready. The other patronesses spread throughout the

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