“So when might Lady Emily join you for another outing?” Reston asked, and Leah took the cue to limit herself to topics the footman could overhear. When the bread crumbs were gone, Reston offered his arm and sauntered along beside her placidly all the way home. At the foot of the steps, he bowed over her hand, giving it a surreptitious squeeze before taking a leisurely departure.
Leah made it a point to frown after him, knowing the footman would report this reaction as well.
“In future, William,” she said, “I will not be sending you to purchase bread crumbs for me. There are too many curious gentlemen in the park, and I do not like being subject to their interrogation regarding my sister.”
“Just so, milady. Curious, very large gentlemen.” He bowed and took his leave, no doubt going to report every word and impression to the earl.
Leah repaired directly to the library, hid her coins behind a ragged volume of
Nick’s grandmother, Della, Dowager Marchioness of Warne, had known to expect him and was thus armed with tea, scones, clotted cream, and jam when he showed up on her doorstep en route to another visit to the park.
“I ran into Ethan,” Nick said as they were sitting down in her family parlor. “He looks thinner to me.”
“You look thinner,” his grandmother said. “You great strapping lads need to mind your victuals. You lose your bloom so quickly, otherwise. Have a scone—or two.”
“I love you, Nana,” Nick said as he accepted a plate of the warm, flaky pastries. “Ethan was his usual unforthcoming self. How does he fare?”
“As if I’d know.” Della was the picture of prim disapproval, snow-white braids in a tidy coronet, blue eyes snapping with frustration. “He keeps no mistress that I know of, he does not gamble, he does not attend services, he pores over his investments and accounts, and he seldom strays from his seat in Surrey.”
Nick paused in the demolition of his scones. “When did he start tending his home fires?”
“He purchased the place six or seven years back,” Della replied. “Though he’s really been in residence only for the past three years or so. I haven’t seen the place, but I don’t think it’s far from those friends of yours. At this minute, however, he isn’t in Surrey but on his way to Belle Maison.”
Nick set the remains of his scones down. “He hasn’t been home since he was fourteen.”
“You lectured him into it when last you bumped into him in the park, for which I can only be grateful, truth be told, though I doubt he considers Belle Maison home in any regard.”
“I didn’t lecture him. I offered to go with him, and he declined.” Offered to accompany him so he might make his peace with their dying father.
“Well, he’s going. I cannot help but think it’s a good thing. Your father was at best misguided in his handling of you two, and I’ve let him know it a time or two.”
Or ten, Nick suspected. “Your efforts are, as always, appreciated, Nana.”
“Good.” Della smiled at him, a particularly feline, feminine smile that hinted at the stunning beauty of her past.
Nick’s brows crashed down. “Nana, what have you done?”
“Nothing of any import, but when I found myself at yet another boring musicale on Saturday afternoon, I did contrive to sit next to Lady Leah Lindsey and her handsome older brother. That one is sadly lacking in flirtation, I can tell you.”
“You flirted with Wilton’s heir?” Nick didn’t know whether to groan or smile.
“I did not disgrace myself, Nicholas, but I did strike up a pleasant association with the young lady and invited her to call upon me at her convenience. I am so old and lonely, and have so much time on my hands, you see.”
Guilt spiked upward. Nick shrugged it aside from long practice because Nana was a shameless manipulator who delighted in her machinations. “You are dangerous, but I was going to ask it of you anyway.”
“I know.” Della took a dainty bite of a tea cake with yellow frosting. “You were trying to work up your courage, my boy, and I don’t think the situation will admit of such leisure. The girl looks haunted.”
“She is,” Nick said, leaving it at that. “I appreciate the overture, though, and she will likely need a friend. How did the brother react?”
“He’s quiet. Lost a wife a year or two ago, another match that benefited the Wilton finances, but one gets the impression he misses the lady. She gave him several children in very short order, as I recall, so they must have gotten along to some degree.”
“Oh, my stars.” Della drew back in mock horror. “And what will Wilton do? Call me out? I command more connections in this silly little town than he can imagine, Nicholas. Do not fear for me, and do not hesitate to ask if there’s more I can do.”
“I love you,” Nick said again, meaning it with all his heart.
“And I love you. Away with you now. You’ve a lady to meet, and I have to change into more splendid attire if I’m to go calling on my cronies and friends before the rain comes back in.”
Nick eyed the sky as he made his way to the park, willing the rain to hold off, though clouds were gathering. The bench by the duck pond was dry, thank the gods, so Nick strolled off to another bench and waited for his quarry. In the twenty minutes he was forced to wait, he tried to review what he knew of Leah’s situation and found he couldn’t keep his attention on the task.
He was too busy scanning the park, anticipating her arrival and fretting about what her absence could mean.
Which was odd, when he had no particular personal investment in the woman but intended simply to see her safe from her father’s mischief… Even if she did kiss with a memorable combination of innocence and passion.
And carry a lovely scent.
And haunt his dreams.
Nick was thus scowling mightily when he heard a soft voice at his elbow.
“Shall I interpret that look to be a comment on my presence, Lord Reston?”
Nick rose and offered his arm, hoping his smile was merely friendly and not vastly relieved. “You should interpret it as a comment on my solitudinous state. Good day, Lady Leah. May I escort you to the ducks?”
“You may.” Leah tucked her hand around his arm, her footman falling in behind them several paces back. Nick paused and turned.
He speared the footman with a look that was mostly fatuous suitor leavened with spoiled aristocrat spiced with a sprinkling of man-to-man. “My good fellow, unless you think to insult a peer’s heir, I must ask you to keep a discreet distance so I might encourage the young lady to offer me the occasional flirtatious aside. A man needs every advantage when paying his proper addresses, hmm?”
The footman—the same beetle-browed fellow as last time—blushed, stammered his apologies, and retreated a good distance. Nick nodded his thanks and tucked his hand over Leah’s.
“He’ll not bother us, provided we look to be flirting.” Nick patted her hand as he spoke. “I understand you met my grandmother.”
Leah frowned at the fingers he laid over her knuckles. “Your grandmother?”
“My late mother’s mother, Della, Lady Warne,” Nick said. “I am her only true grandson, though she dotes on the lot of us, including my younger half siblings.” She did not dote on Ethan—nobody did. “You can trust her in every regard.” And what a solid satisfaction it gave Nick to mean that.
“You cannot think to engage that dear, elderly lady in my father’s schemes, Lord Reston.”
“I cannot think to keep her out of them. How are you?”
He asked the question because Leah looked to him, if anything, pale and tired.
“Hellerington calls upon my father in several days,” she said, not exactly answering Nick’s question. “I cannot
