Nicholas - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,103

pony. “Don’t you suppose if you’re to go riding, you’d best don appropriate attire?”

John looked for a translation from Darius, who’d been silent and watchful throughout the entire exchange.

“Put on your boots and breeches,” Darius said, “and grab a carrot or two from Cook, but take a proper leave of Lord Bellefonte first.” John executed a perfect little bow of parting and scampered off, leaving an enormous silence in his wake.

“It seems we have more to discuss than I thought, Lindsey.” For a wretched, uncomfortable suspicion had bloomed in the back of Nick’s mind.

“Leah will kill us both if you call me out,” Darius said with bitter humor. “There is an explanation for why matters stand as they do, but I’ve been trying to convince Trent that because Leah’s circumstances have changed, perhaps it’s time to change John’s circumstances as well.”

“No perhaps about it,” Nick shot back. “That boy deserves his mother’s love, to say nothing of what Leah deserves.”

Surprise crossed Darius’s features, surprise the man made no effort to mask. “You and the rest of Polite Society are supposed to conclude John is my by-blow.”

“He has Leah’s eyes, Lindsey. Beelzebub’s hairy balls, you can’t—”

Lindsey held up a hand. “John is my paternal half brother, our paternal half brother. His mother was a maid at Wilton Acres who walked here from the Lindsey family seat in Hampshire just to seek my aid. Wilton had discarded her when she couldn’t hide her condition any longer and scoffed at the notion she might be carrying his child. If Wilton knew of the boy’s existence, the consequences to the child would be unthinkable. Leah doesn’t know of him. She’s had enough to deal with, and the time was never right.”

Another secret kept from Leah, by another man who professed to love her. The idea should have assuaged Nick’s guilt, when in fact it did the opposite.

“You won’t tell Leah?” Darius asked, his manner softening a little.

“I won’t tell Leah, yet,” Nick said, “but she is going to know soon, and you’d best use the time to make sure John is prepared for that day. She lost a child, Lindsey, and her marriage will not provide any opportunities to replace that loss with joy. I will be very surprised if she doesn’t snatch the boy from you the moment she learns of him.”

Rather than rant and rail to the contrary—and wouldn’t a rousing argument suit Nick’s mood wonderfully?—Darius’s gaze turned pensive.

“You’re an earl now, Wilton’s peer,” he said. “Leah would dote on the boy.”

Behind dark eyes, the mill wheel of Lindsey’s brain was turning at a great rate, and Nick suspected he knew exactly the direction of Lindsey’s thoughts. “You and John can ride a few miles with me in the direction of town. We’ll talk.”

And talk they did.

Sixteen

Leah took a dinner tray to the back gardens hours later, trying to make sense of her husband’s flight—but as the day had worn on, she’d concluded it made little sense to Nick himself.

As Leah’s thoughts continued to ramble, she noticed a groom on a lathered horse trotting up the drive. Others took the horse to walk it out, the groom slipped off, and Leah went back to her musings. Her mind was functioning on two levels, as she knew it would for some time. Part of her could rationally process information and plan the next day to write to her sister or to Nita, to map out a little ride around the neighborhood, to draft a note to send to the local vicar’s wife.

Another part of her mind wailed in silent, unceasing, passionate grief for the loss of her husband. That part of her was on its feet and heading for the library in search of an illicit tumbler of brandy when a footman approached in the waning evening light.

“Letter for you, your ladyship, from his lordship.” The footman offered a sealed epistle on a salver.

Leah’s heart leaped in concern first, but Nick would not be writing to her if he’d come to harm. She took the letter and, with a pounding heart, continued her progress toward the library.

Something had to be wrong for Nick to be communicating with her so soon after leaving her side. Something had to be terribly wrong.

Several minutes later, Leah stared at Nick’s missive, puzzled but a little cheered as well.

Dearest Lovey Wife,

Because you might need to contact me, please be informed I will breakfast with Hazlit tomorrow, then call on Lady Della. The solicitors have told me they will

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