Tempting Taffy (House of Devon #8) - Meara Platt Page 0,10

to be stupid about it, then indeed it is none of my business. But it is obvious you love your son with all your being. Will you put his life at risk for this?”

“Did ye just call me stupid, lass?” He should have been in a rage over it, but there was something about this girl, her vitality and enthusiasm, all wrapped up in a plain black gown and capped with that irksome mobcap covering her hair.

She gasped and shot to her feet, her hands clenched in dismay at the realization she’d just insulted him. “My lord, forgive me.”

She was also clever and compassionate, for it was obvious she cared for Rafe and would feel it in her soul if the lad ever got hurt. So would he, and yet he was too prideful to talk about his wife when it was obviously important.

Stupid, indeed.

He couldn’t summon so much as mild indignation.

The lass was right. He was being stubborn and she was ready to risk her life to protect him and his son.

Her eyes remained rounded in alarm. “It is not at all what I meant. Sometimes I get so caught up in my duties that I…well, there is no excuse for it, is there?”

He rose and took her hands in his, surprised by the jolt that coursed through him at their mere touch. But he did not release her just yet. “I was being stupid. Ye have no need to apologize to me.”

He glanced at the bed where Rafe was still comfortably sleeping, the boy’s occasional snuffles reaching his ears. “The lad is everything to me. Go ahead, ask yer questions. Give me yer word that ye’ll keep what I tell ye in confidence.”

She chewed on her lip. “I may have to tell Mr. Barrow if I feel it is important for him to know. As for the other runners, I doubt they’ll need to be told more than a description of the villain once we figure out who that person is. Rest assured, Mr. Barrow is the best there is. He can be trusted to keep a confidence.”

“Verra well, lass. Give me yer word that it shall not go beyond the two of ye.”

She nodded. “Yes, my lord. That I can do. You have my solemn oath.”

“Good.” He released her hands then motioned for her to resume her seat. He sat as well and leaned forward, resuming his earlier posture, arms resting on his thighs. “What do ye wish to know about my wife?”

CHAPTER FOUR

TAFFY KNEW SHE had to tread carefully when questioning the marquis about his wife. She was not so callous as to dismiss the pain it would likely cause him. But sometimes it was best to simply rip off that scab in one quick motion rather than attempt to do it delicately and cause more harm.

An odd feeling had flowed through her the moment he had touched her hands. He’d let go of them now, but she still felt their enveloping warmth. The feeling lingered and she could not make it go away. Nor could she stop the tingles that were shooting through her body like little bolts of lightning.

As pleasant as these sensations were, and as wonderful as his touch had been, they only made her acutely aware of the emptiness of having no one to love.

He had done nothing wrong, of course.

But meeting him, and knowing he was completely out of her reach, saddened her. She would never find such a man willing to marry her. She was a foundling, no better than a mutt off the streets. “It is easier if you give me a history of your marriage from first meeting your wife to the time of her…passing. Who was she? How did you meet and marry? Was it a happy marriage? Did she have other suitors for her hand? Were any of them angered when she chose you over them? And during the marriage…forgive me, my lord. Did she have other men who paid her attention even though she was married to you? Then, of course, how did she die?”

“Blessed saints, these are deeply personal questions. Why not start with my business affairs first?”

She was not pleased to be led away from her purpose, but shook her head in agreement. She would dispose of the business interrogation quickly. “Do you have business enemies?”

“I have competitors, but none I would ever call enemies. To my knowledge, I have not ruined anyone’s livelihood. It is not my way.”

“And your father?”

“As Duke of