Lord of Darkness - By Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,66

new frocks,” Jane said from behind her mother. His half sister’s tone was defiant, but her expression was uncertain.

He’d probably looked like that much of the time when he’d been her age.

Godric nodded, leading his stepmother over to where she’d been seated before. “How long do you intend to stay?”

“A fortnight,” his stepmother said.

“Ah,” Godric murmured, and felt Megs’s look. For the first time he glanced at his wife.

His wife, whom he’d bedded just last night.

She wore a smart pink gown with black figures and trimmings, her hair dark and lustrous, and she sat very straight, watching him with a worried frown knit between her gracefully arched brows. He nearly stopped breathing. She was so lovely, Megs, his wife. Had his father’s family not been here, he might’ve crossed to her, pulled her from her seat, and led her to their rooms where—

But, no.

She’d made quite plain that was not the type of arrangement she wanted with him. Even had his stepmother and sisters not been looking on curiously, he would’ve had to wait until tonight.

He was a stud, nothing more.

Godric took a breath, focusing once more on the conversation. “Would you like me to escort you to the shops?”

He saw Megs’s look of surprise out of the corner of his eye.

Jane, predictably, opened her mouth first, but the glance her mother shot her made her close it again very quickly.

His stepmother smiled at him. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

He nodded. Megs gave him a small, grateful grin and handed him a dish of tea—a drink he’d never particularly cared for. But he sipped it and let the women’s chatter flow around him, observing.

It seemed his wife had formed an intimate bond with his father’s family while she’d lived at Laurelwood. That wasn’t so surprising, he supposed, since the dower house was nearby. She made a pretty picture with his sisters, her dark head in contrast with their lighter ones. All three had inherited their mother’s coloring. Charlotte was the fairest, while Jane’s tawny locks were the darkest. Sarah sat next to Megs, laughing at something, and Jane was nearly in Charlotte’s lap, her arm draped companionably over her sister’s neck, the skirts of their dresses frothing over each other. His stepmother looked on benignly and the circle was complete: a feminine sorority perfect and exclusive.

Godric glanced down at his tea.

It would be awkward with his father’s family in the house. He still had to continue his Ghostly duties, find the lassie snatchers, and now Roger Fraser-Burnsby’s murderer as well. Add to that Captain Trevillion watching him suspiciously, and his job had become much more difficult.

Not that obstacles would stop him.

“… if that’s agreeable with you, Godric?” his stepmother inquired.

He looked up to find five pairs of feminine eyes focused on him. Godric cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”

Megs sighed, making him aware that he’d missed more than one or two sentences. “We’ve decided to visit the modiste directly after luncheon and then tonight we’re to dine with Griffin and Hero. But”—she turned to his father’s family—“I’m sure Hero will invite you as well, once she hears you’re in town.”

Jane’s eyes rounded in awe. “She’s the daughter of a duke, isn’t she?”

Megs smiled. “And the sister of one. In fact, the duke may be there as well tonight.”

For a moment, the girl was frozen in apparent awe. Then she burst into a flurry of excited movement, chattering all the while about dresses and shoes and what would she wear?

Godric sighed. This was going to be a long day. He caught Megs watching him with a small, approving tilt to her lips.

But perhaps it would be worth it.

THAT NIGHT, MEGS watched as the Duke of Wakefield frowned down at his nephew in ducal disapproval and said, “I don’t understand why the boy cries every time he sees me.”

“He’s developing good taste,” Griffin replied kindly as he picked up sweet William, who immediately quieted, leaning against his father’s chest as he sucked on his forefinger.

Hero rolled her eyes discreetly—something she would never have done before marrying Griffin.

They were in the family sitting room where William had been brought down by his nurse before being put to bed. Great-Aunt Elvina leaned close to Hero, her hand behind her ear to hear whatever Hero was shouting at her. Jane sat ramrod straight, her eyes wide in awe as she watched every movement the Duke of Wakefield made. Beside her, her sisters and mother were more relaxed, obviously enjoying being in such exalted company.

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