Summer's Distant Heart - Laura Landon Page 0,23

the Marquess of Trentridge. He could reject the fact that the next heir to Trentridge Park was the son of a commoner and do everything in his power to get rid of the boy. Or, he could move heaven and earth to take the child away from his mother and raise him as he had raised Hunter. Either would be a living hell for the child, to say nothing of what it would do to the child’s mother.

Hunter knew he could not let either of those possibilities happen.

. . . .

They had been on the road for over an hour and Lia thought someone had beaten her body with a large stick. She ached all over, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Every rut in the road caused her body to groan.

Several miles earlier, she’d had the carriages stop and she put Aunt Mildred in the carriage with Frannie and the baby. If she was ill, she didn’t want Aunt Mildred or the babe to get ill, too. She tried miserably to convince herself she wasn’t ill but simply overly tired.

“Are you alright, Lia?” Miles asked as he rode up beside the carriage.

“I’m fine, Miles. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because you don’t look well.”

“I’m fine. I simply thought perhaps Frannie might need help with the baby and Aunt Mildred volunteered to take the first trek of the journey. I intend to relieve her in an hour or so.”

“Maybe you can get some rest now that you’re alone.”

“I’m fine, Miles. Just fine. You’re as bothersome as Lord Montclaire. He’s convinced that I’m at death’s door, which I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“Very well. Close your eyes and rest for a while.”

“I will,” Lia said, then watched her brother ride away.

A small voice inside her wanted to call her brother back. Her head pounded like a dozen church bells were pealing between her ears. Although she’d been overly hot a few minutes before, now she was shivering with cold. She pulled out a blanket they’d brought for the babe and draped it over her shoulders. She barely had it in place before she became so hot she tossed it aside.

She couldn’t be ill. There was too much to concern herself with. Including keeping an eye on Hunter Montclaire.

Lia closed her eyes and darkness consumed her.

. . . .

Hunter rode past the carriage several times to check on his brother’s widow. He knew she wasn’t well. Why she denied it was another mystifying aspect of her aloof nature.

It had been more than an hour since the carriages had stopped and her aunt had gone to the carriage with the babe and the nursemaid in it. He was glad she’d made that decision. If she was alone, it was more likely that she would not be bothered and could sleep.

The first time he rode close enough to catch a glimpse of her, she sat with her head leaning into the corner of the carriage. Even though it was a warm summer’s day, she’d pulled a blanket up over her and tucked it beneath her chin as if she were cold. The thought that her sickness had developed into chills concerned him even more.

The second time he managed to get close enough to see her, she’d pulled the blanket away from her body and opened her gown at the neck as if she were overly warm. He rode his horse close to the lady’s brother to voice his concerns.

“Halloway,” he called out. “I’m going to go check on your sister. My estate is about an hour away just down this path. Turn to the right as soon as you go over a bridge. That will take you down the lane to the manor house.”

“Do you want me to see to her?” Halloway asked.

“I’d rather you guarded your aunt and the babe. Is your weapon ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Do you anticipate I’ll have to use it?”

“No, but you’re no doubt a better shot than I am, should the need arise.”

Halloway nodded and Hunter made his way back to the carriage. “Halt for a moment,” he ordered the driver.

When the carriage stopped, Hunter tied his horse to the back of the carriage and stepped inside. When he was seated, he pounded on the side of the carriage and the vehicle resumed its journey.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ride with you,” he said, then looked at Lady Atherton. She didn’t move. Neither did she open her eyes as if she’d heard him.

“Bloody