you?” Regan asked.
Beatrix hated lying to a child, but she always lied about her age. At twenty-six, she was old enough to be on the shelf. “Twenty-two.”
Regan yawned. “Papa, are you that old?”
“Older, if you can believe it.” He suppressed a smile. “I’m thirty. And you, my love, should be in bed.” He swept her into his arms.
She laid her head on his shoulder. “All right.”
He turned and went into his bedchamber. Beatrix wondered if she should leave. While she dithered, he returned, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “In the morning, I will instruct her that she must not tell anyone about my ‘friend.’”
“An excellent plan, thank you,” Beatrix said. “Your daughter can count.”
“To ten. She gets lost after that.” He sat back down on the settee.
“Still, she knew that twenty-two was old.” Beatrix made a face.
Rockbourne laughed. “This is a new and exciting concept for her. My aunt has been spending time with us the past few days, and her hair is completely gray. Regan asked about it and Aunt Charity explained that some people’s hair turns gray when they get older. That sparked a whole conversation about what older means.”
Beatrix grinned. “I wish I could have heard it. She’s delightful.”
“I think so.” He looked like a proud father. Beatrix’s heart tugged.
“You allow her to sleep in your chamber?”
“It’s easier than taking her upstairs, and her nurse knows I don’t mind. Regan is to tell her nurse when she comes down here in the middle of the night. That way, Miss Addy won’t awaken in a dead panic when her charge isn’t in bed. Regan is thrilled to awaken me by poking my forehead and repeating ‘Papa’ about fifty times.”
“That sounds lovely,” Beatrix said with a sigh. “You are an excellent father.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but I think your father is an ass for abandoning you.”
Beatrix stared at him a moment before she could find her words. “Thank you. I used to tell myself he was overcome with grief after losing my mother.”
“I would think that would have bonded him to you even more.” Rockbourne didn’t hide his disdain.
“I have to think he had a good reason.” She wanted to think that. No, she needed to, or else she had to accept that he might never have loved her. It was far easier to believe that seeing her brought him too much pain after losing her mother.
“You’re probably right.” Rockbourne picked up his wine and finished it. “Would you like more madeira?”
“No, thank you. I am not quite finished.” She still had nearly half left, and she was loath to drink it any more quickly. When it was gone, she’d have to leave. Or, she could have more since he didn’t seem in any rush for her to depart.
And really, she should. She shouldn’t even be here at all.
He stood and went to the small sideboard near the door to his bedchamber. After refilling his glass, he returned to the settee. “Your sister’s wedding is soon, isn’t it?”
“A week from next Tuesday at St. George’s in Hanover Square.” She grimaced. “My apologies. I realize that’s where your brother-in-law was to be married last week.”
“He’s better off in Newgate. I can’t say I’m surprised he was extorting people, and not just because I would believe Lord Colton before I would trust Chamberlain.” Lord Colton was the man who’d first accused Chamberlain of extortion. After that, others had come forward. “He is as poison-filled as his sister was.”
Rockbourne gripped his wineglass and took a drink. Beatrix noted the taut muscles of his jaw and neck.
She sought to divert the conversation once more. He’d said he didn’t wish to speak of her, and Beatrix suspected he didn’t even care to think of her just now. She drank more of her wine.
Rockbourne gazed at her intently. “Are you going to keep visiting me?”
“That depends. Are you going to keep inviting me in for madeira?”
“If that’s what it takes, then yes.”
“So you like my company?”
“I do. Right now, it’s…difficult to be alone with my thoughts.”
Beatrix wished she could squeeze herself next to him on the settee, but she didn’t dare. “Why?”
Blowing out a breath, he set his wineglass down on the table. “Guilt?”
She leaned forward. “I’ve told you it wasn’t your fault.”
“But I should feel sad, shouldn’t I?”
“You must feel however you feel.” She nearly told him that her sister sometimes struggled with allowing herself to feel, but to reveal that would encourage a great many questions she couldn’t