The Viscount’s Vendetta by Kathy L. Wheeler

Twenty-Five

I

’m thrilled you’re here,” Lorelei said. She set a lemon tart and a couple of biscuits on a plate and handed it to Maeve. “I miss having you here.”

“I miss you as well,” Maeve told her. “I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Not at all. Brandon didn’t come home last evening. Thorne has deserted me for his club this morning, and Ginny and Brock are in the country.”

Maeve busied herself with doctoring her tea, praying Lorelei didn’t notice the ravage heat in her face.

If Lorelei did notice, she was polite enough to ignore it. She sat back with her own cup. “Tell me. How do you find Cavendish Square?”

“The house is perfect. It’s beautiful and not so close to Ingleby House. Mother, so far, has avoided me. Of course, I don’t expect that to last forever.” She wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t received many invitations of late.”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault. There were several notes for you here, and I only got them sent over late yesterday.”

“Oh, dear. I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I?”

“Or I have.”

“Not at all.” Maeve drank her tea and set her cup aside. “Lorelei, I have something else to ask to you about. Promise you’ll tell me if I overstep?”

“Certainly, dear. What is it?”

“Did Harlowe ever express an interest in Rowena Hollerfield?”

“Not to me. Why do you ask?”

“Miss Hollerfield kept a journal. She went into great detail on how she intended Corinne to marry into her rightful place in society. She sent the girl off to school at a young age, to protect her, I imagine. Apparently, when Harlowe showed up, Rowena set her sights on him for Corinne.”

Lorelei frowned.

“She later expounded that Harlowe had fallen in love with her, Rowena, thus throwing all her plans into turmoil. She somehow managed to make the wedding happen, but what occurred after that? Harlowe had disappeared by then—” Maeve broke off, embarrassed beyond words. How could she be so insensitive, forgetting Harlowe’s harrowing ordeal when he’d been institutionalized?

Lorelei patted her hand. “Don’t fret, dear. Harlowe is home and grows stronger every day. In large part, thanks to you.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. As I was saying, Harlowe must have disappeared and Corinne was close to giving birth. I was wondering what happened after? I thought perhaps your insights might help Harlowe in recovering more of his memory. Rowena had to know you were Harlowe’s sister. And your husband, an earl…”

Lorelei poured more tea. “Would you like a drop of brandy?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She rose and went to the cabinet and brought back a half full bottle. She poured a generous amount in both cups, topping them off with barely a spot of tea. “Rowena Hollerfield was Kimpton’s mistress before Kimpton and I married.”

Maeve was in mid-gulp and coughed, her eyes watering. “Oh. I hadn’t realized.”

“Before we realized Brandon had gone missing, Miss Hollerfield stopped Thorne on the street and told him she was the one who was enceinte. She informed my husband that if he didn’t assist her she would announce to all and sundry that the child was his.”

“But…”

“Rowena told him it mattered not because all the ton cared about was gossip.” Lorelei grimaced.

“Because, of course, she was right. A brilliant strategy.”

“Yes.” Lorelei let out a sigh. “Thorne knew if I learned the baby belonged to my brother, I would be livid if he didn’t do something to help. So he sent her to our home in the country. Without telling me, mind. The hunter’s cottage, actually. For reasons I won’t go into, I ended up traveling to the country as well. The night I arrived—in a deluge no less—Miss Hollerfield met me in the drive.” Her voice lowered to a husky rasp. “Corinne had gone into an early labor and almost perished.”

Maeve was stunned. It was a fantastic story. “Dear heavens.”

“Ah, well. It’s all water under the bridge now.”

But was it?

 

Harlowe stepped over the threshold of Kimpton House and tossed his hat and greatcoat to Oswald. “You never seem to age, old man.”

“An oxymoron, my lord.”

“Is Lady Alymer here?”

“She is visiting with Lady Kimpton. They asked not to be disturbed.” Oswald melded away like the cadaverous ghost he was.

Harlowe made his way to his bedchamber and rang for a hot bath. In the meantime, he scrubbed his face and, despite his less than elegant appearance, decided to look in on his son. By any stretch, he was no hero, but he also was aware that if he wanted any chance with Maeve Pendleton, future Lady Harlowe, he had to find a way to get to know his son. It would be the only way to redeem himself in her eyes.

Harlowe stopped outside the nursery with his knuckles poised to knock. His stomach quivered with nerves. It was ridiculous to fear a child. Why did he fear a child? Why did he fear his child? God, what was wrong with him? He tapped on the door and walked in.

Molly sat in the middle of the floor.

“Where’s Nathan?”

“Hidin’. Under the table, sir.”

He frowned. “Why is he hiding?”

“’Tis his new game.”

“Oh.”

She turned a cheeky grin on him. “He likes to be found. Try it.”

Oh, the indignities. Harlowe looked at the round table in the corner, meandered over, and went down on one knee. He looked over his shoulder at Molly.

She gave him an encouraging nod.

He felt silly, but he leaned down and peered underneath and was met with a squeal of giggles. They filled the room with sweet innocence.

Nathan crawled out, rose on pudgy legs, waddled over to Molly, and threw himself in her arms.

She looked up Harlowe, her gaze uncertain. “Would you care to, er, hold him, milord?”

“Hold him?”

“Perhaps ye could take him so I can get to me feet?”

“Oh. Uh, certainly.” With an awkward bend of his body, he took Nathan. Unsure at what to do with the boy, he held him mid-air with arms outstretched.

“Milord, ye can set him at yer hip. He won’t break.”

Harlowe did as she instructed and Nathan’s tiny arms encircled his neck. The baby leaned forward with an open mouth and pressed it against Harlowe’s cheek, leaving what felt like a wet drool. His head jerked back. “What’s he doing?”

Molly came to her feet, grinning. “That is Nathan kissin’ ye. He’s an affectionate babe.”

Something unfurled in his chest. For a child, Nathan was sturdy and loving. The thought pleased him. Just then something warm and damp seeped through his wrinkled waistcoat and down his hip.

The maid slapped a hand over her mouth but couldn’t hide her mirth. “Oh dear.”

Nathan clapped both palms on Harlowe’s cheeks with a joyful squeal.

“Oh dear, indeed,” he said, grimacing, then unable to hold back, felt the laughter burst forth.