Winter's Whispers (The Wicked Winters #10) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,9
him, and she grinned.
“Uncle Blade shall do fine.”
“Oh, she is in love with you already,” Lady Aylesford said, smiling. “You need not have fretted so about holding her. William?”
He realized she was attempting to guess his Christian name. “Blade.”
“Peter?”
“Blade.”
Her nose wrinkled. “John?”
He sighed. Little Lady Gwendolyn grabbed his coat in her fist and tugged. “Blade, Lady Aylesford.”
“Oh, do cease being formal with me,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You must call me Grace.”
The woman was stubborn; he admired that. When Genevieve arrived, he had no doubt the two of them would get on quite well.
“Grace,” he allowed. Damn him if these Winter half siblings were not nearly as bad as he had supposed them to be.
He liked them, in fact.
Strange, that.
The babe in his arms added a loud sound as if she were agreeing with him. He smiled at her, thinking children were better than cats.
“Would you mind holding her?” Grace asked. “I will return in but a moment.”
“Here now,” he grumbled. “I am not the child’s nurse.”
“Of course you are not. But uncles must hold their nieces.”
They must? Since when?
She was already on her way out the door of the private family salon, leaving Blade alone with Lady Gwendolyn.
“This is a hell of a thing,” he told the infant. “I don’t like babes.”
She cooed.
“I reckon you aren’t bad,” he allowed.
Lady Gwendolyn made a new noise, one that sounded rather ecstatic.
He made a sound back at her, and she babbled. For a time, he sat there, the babe in his arms, exchanging noises with her, feeling quite proud of himself whenever Lady Gwendolyn appeared especially enthused. At length, the door to the salon swung open, and he glanced up, expecting to find Grace returning for the child.
Instead, it was none other than the brunette beauty who had been haunting his thoughts ever since he had spotted her wriggling arse in his chamber.
“Lady Felicity,” he greeted her, surprised. “I would stand, but I am…”
Hell, he was afraid to move. Lady Gwendolyn was a precious, trusting bundle.
“I see.” She hesitated at the threshold. “Forgive me for the interruption, sir. I was searching for my aunt.”
He had seen her aunt last night at dinner—a typical society matron who had cast him a look of frigid disapproval. Although Blade had been seated far from Lady Felicity and her chaperone, his eyes had strayed more than once in their direction. In Lady Felicity’s direction specifically.
“Do I look as if I harbor aunts to you?” he asked drily, raising a brow.
Her pink tongue flitted over her full lips. “No, but nor do you look as if you harbor infants.”
She was not wrong. This was dashed unusual. But for now, he could not stop thinking about her lips. About kissing her. He had been tempted when they had collided the day before. So bloody tempted.
And he was tempted now.
Lady Gwendolyn made another happy sound, reminding him he was not in any condition to kiss anyone. Which was just as well, because he had been sent to Oxfordshire to avoid trouble, damn it. Not create more.
“I don’t,” he agreed. “This is my…niece.”
The word felt strange. A lady was his niece, fancy nib title and all. He had a nephew already, thanks to Dom and Lady Adele. But Colin was a mister, not a lord. Blade had yet to reconcile himself to the fact he was bound by blood to this other half of the Winter family.
Grace chose that moment to appear at Lady Felicity’s side on the threshold.
She beamed. “Lady Felicity, I am so happy to find you here. It’s quite fortuitous. We need all the players we can find to assemble in the drawing room for a game of hoodman blind in one quarter hour.” She turned her enthusiasm upon Blade then. “You as well, brother.”
Hoodman blind? A game?
“I do not play games,” he informed her, suppressing a shudder.
“Of course you do,” Grace insisted, crossing the salon and holding out her arms for her daughter. “I must return my little darling to her nurse, and then I shall join you.”
“No games,” he repeated, the mere thought of engaging in something so frivolous making him want to hide.
“Nonsense.” Grace scooped up her daughter. “Were you a good little lady for Uncle Blade?”
His cravat felt too tight. What the devil was going on here? Lusting after a virgin, rescuing a kitten, holding a babe, and now being cozened into playing a game? And he rather missed the cherub, now she’d been taken from his arms.
Hell.
“She