Nicholas - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,120

his eyes, she looked subtly radiant. “Embezzlement left your father with a need to put a good scare into any notions Frommer might have had about poking into your finances. As the son of a marquis, Frommer could have seen it done.”

Leah turned to gaze out the window, which meant Nick’s fingers could caress the curve of her cheek. “But Wilton killed Aaron before any awkward questions were asked?”

“Wilton claims it was an accident,” Nick said gently, “and the circumstances don’t particularly contradict him.” Hellerington did, of course, but his account was not entirely unbiased, and Nick could easily see Wilton panicking in a crisis. “The upshot is your father will make financial reparation to his children and behave himself in Hampshire for the foreseeable future.”

She nuzzled his hand, which was enough to make Nick wish the coach were headed back toward Clover Down. “You’re sure?”

“The statute of limitations on murder does not toll,” Nick replied. “Wilton probably doesn’t have that many years left on this earth, given the weight of his sins.”

“The wicked put off meeting their fate as long as they can,” Leah observed. “What do my brothers think of this?”

Their reactions didn’t matter to Nick, provided his countess was happy. “I don’t know. I sent messages to them this morning, summarizing my actions, and set off before they could reply. I gave Wilton to understand we are a united front, of course, because scandal would serve no one. Did you know I am an uncle?”

She shot him a glance at the abrupt change in topic, but acquiesced. Her father’s perfidy would no doubt take time to ponder—and recover from.

“Ethan has children?”

“Two little boys whom I’ve not yet met,” Nick replied, though given Ethan’s proportions, they were probably big little boys. “I can’t wait to chase them through our orchard.”

He waited while she digested that, but when his wife—his countess, his Leah, his lovey—made no comment, Nick abandoned half measures and scooped her onto his lap.

“Better,” he pronounced. “I should not have left you alone in our bed this morning. A woman dealing with a pilfered inheritance, purloined marriage lines, a surprise, mostly grown stepdaughter, and a clodpated husband should not be waking all on her lonesome.”

“A comfortable, clodpated husband,” Leah allowed, relaxing against him. “There’s more, though, isn’t there? You haven’t taken a sudden notion to go calling on Darius today, of all days, because you’ve tired of my charms already—I’ve not tired of yours, in case you were wondering.”

Nick brushed his lips against her ear. “I was wondering if you were sore, lovey. My countess is a passionate lady.” And wasn’t that a fine, fine thing?

“Blame me for provoking you to protracted displays of virility, will you?” She sounded wonderfully disgruntled as she kissed his jaw. “If this is your version of flirting, Nicholas, you are in sad want of direction. It shall be my pleasure to provide it to you upon our return to Clover Down.”

“And it will be my duty…” The rest of the blather flew out of his head as Leah bit his earlobe. The coach rumbled along, the earl and his countess kissing all the while, until Nick caught a glimpse through the window of Darius’s gateposts.

“Lovey?”

She struggled to sit up, which allowed Nick to notice that their spate of kissing had taken a toll on her coiffure.

“That is not a dignified endearment, Nicholas. I am a countess, soon to be the guiding female influence on your only daughter, and I will not allow—”

Nick allowed himself one more little kiss, to stop his lovey’s verbal frolicking. “What would you think about becoming the sole female influence on Leonie and a somewhat younger child, a boy who bears a particular resemblance to your brother Darius?”

She went silent, shifted off his lap, and tucked the stray lock of hair behind her ear, all vestiges of frolic and flirtation gone from her expression. “There’s another secret, isn’t there, Nicholas?”

“Please don’t look so worried, wife of mine. This is a happy secret, a joyous secret that need not be kept secret much longer.”

The silly woman tried to scoot away from him. Nick hauled her back against his side. “Shortly after you returned from Italy, a young woman presented herself to your brother, claiming that Wilton had ruined her. Your brother took her in, passed her child off as his own, and has kept the pleasure of raising the boy to himself these past few years. This struck him as the best way to keep the boy

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