Page 2 of A Daring Pursuit

“I have a name,” Noah muttered under his breath as the familiar resentment pulsed through him. He didn’t dare back away, as Papa’s fist could fly out at will in a wallop that would leave his ears ringing.

A small, minute squeal emitted from the… basket? Hope swelled through Noah.A puppy?A kitten? He’d never been allowed a pet, no matter how he’d begged throughout the years.

Papa turned to Mrs. Knagg. “Don’t disturb us.”

She was a pillar of Stonemare. Her robust build and commanding presence held an air of stern efficiency. A few wisps of ash-brown hair had escaped the severe bun, but the usual sternness softened in her brown eyes. “Of course, my lord. But wouldn’t you care to see Lady Pender first?”

He turned toward the library, his strides long. “Later,” he barked—then paused. Papa turned back to the housekeeper. “Is the wet nurse in house?”

“Certainly, m’lord. We shall have need of her at any moment.

“And the midwife?” The minute the words were out of Papa’s mouth, Mama let out another bloodcurdling scream.

Noah couldn’t see Papa’s expression, but Mrs. Knagg’s wince was quite clear. “We’ve sent for her, m’lord, but in this weather…” Her voice trailed off.

Papa nodded and entered the library, shutting the door behind him.

The click was ominous and resounded throughout the chamber.

Papa strolled over to the chair near the fire where Noah had been sitting earlier. He lifted the tome left there after Noah had rushed away minutes earlier. Papa grinned, his teeth gleaming white through his unshaven face in the gloom like the devil himself. Glancing at Noah, he lifted one brow. “Sceptical Chymist, eh?”

“Well, you won’t let me attend school,” Noah said, kicking at a sliver of paper, not bothering to raise his head. All he’d see was the regular criticism besides.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, boy, you aren’t old enough. You’ll go when you turn thirteen, just like your brother.” He set the book on the nearest table. At least he hadn’t tossed it in the fire.

“But that’s three whole years.”

Papa dropped into the chair. “Enough. Now, sit down. I need your help.” He placed the basket on the floor between his feet.

Noah did as he’d asked. First, because Papa had never needed his help before. Second, because he really wanted his own pet. Not a puppy that was forced to stay in the barn on cold, stormy nights like tonight.

Papa reached down and lifted the lid off the basket, then drew out a bundle wrapped in a dark blanket. It wasn’t moving and Noah’s hopes dashed. Papa leaned forward and set the bundle in Noah’s lap.

Noah tugged gently at the corner of a scratchy blanket, curious despite his displeasure. “What is it?”

“Don’t let it fall, for God’s sake.” At Papa’s harsh tone, the bundle jerked and rolled, bound for a worn-through rug that wouldn’t protect a flea from the hard wood beneath but for Papa’s quick reaction. He plopped it back on Noah’s lap and another less bulky package wrapped in brown paper slipped to the floor, exposing a delicate, gold chain. Papa swooped it up then stuffed it into his vest pocket then stood.

“What is that?” Noah asked him.

“Nothing that concerns you. Your duty is to the infant, goddammit.” He started for the door.

“What? A baby?” He sputtered. “You’re giving me ababy?” Noah’s gaze fell to the bundle across his knees. All thought of that small parcel flew from his head. “What am I supposed to do with a baby?”

“I don’t want it. Throw it in the lake, for all I care. But if you do decide to keep it, you’d best feed it soon. Once it starts hollering, it’s not likely to stop.”

Well, Papa had been right about one thing. Once the baby started crying, the thing hadn’t stopped. Noah lifted it, trying to imagine a scared puppy or a sickly kitten, but nothing worked. He struggled to set it back in the basket, but even with thetop of the basket closed, the ear-shattering sound could not be softened.

Noah was ashamed that even a fleeting thought of tossing it in the lake had occurred to him.

“What do I feed it?” he asked his father before he had reached the door. “Cream, like a cat?”

“Something like that.” At the door, his father looked over his shoulder at him. “And, Noah—”

Oh, no.Papa never addressed him by his given name. Mama had once told him she’d overrode Papa’s preference for Devlin because it sounded too close to “devil.” His brother Lucius hadn’t been so lucky, having been named after Lucifer. Noah looked up, still holding the howling child that indeed blotted out his mother’s screams.

“No one is to know the child is not your mother’s. You understand what I’m saying?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

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