Page 92 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
His sister, Lady Anne, came tearing past guests, flung her arms around his neck, and hugged him.
“Wherever have you been?” she cried.
“It’s hard to believe you’ve noticed my absence,” he said, after returning her hug and settling her on her feet “Given you probably have nine hundred and ninety-nine of thetonhere.”
With a lilting laugh, she swatted at his shoulder. “I wasn’t referring to my ball, silly, and it’s hardly that crowded. Why, this one is much smaller than our last.”
Wakefield opened his mouth to disabuse her of that ridiculous statement. Over the top of her enormous golden hair, his brother-in-law, the Earl of Stanhope, caught Wakefield’s eye and gave a slight shake. His meaning was clear. It wouldn’tdo to argue anything different with Anne when she reached a conclusion.
She too had noticed his absence. He had no interest in entertaining her questions.
“No, truly, Anne,” he said, “how many guests are here?” He asked in a bid to distract her from the clear path she’d been going down.
“You have not come by, but I understand you’ve been visiting Katherine.” Her lips formed a pout. “My little ones are most devastated, thinking they are second favorites to Katherine’s.”
“Never.” He scoffed. “I promise I’ll make it up to them.”
Both of his sisters each had four children of their own. Throughout the years, Wakefield had made sure to pay each child equal attention. As fact would have it, they were each, in their own way, a delight. There could be no favorites, but then try telling that to them or his sisters.
“You can tell them yourself when you come and see them tomorrow, dear brother.”
Tomorrow.
He started to groan and stopped himself, but it was too late. His sister had already heard. She narrowed her eyes.
“Did you hear that, Harry?” she asked, not even looking back at her husband.
“Most certainly did, love,” the glib-tongued, devotedly in love earl confirmed. He immediately shot an apologetic look at his brother-in-law.
So much for fellows supporting other fellows.
“And why is it such a chore for you to come and visit tomorrow?”
“It is never a chore to visit,” he said placatingly. “Hell, Anne, if I could visit daily, I would. I really do love your little ones.”
Tears misted her eyes. “But they aren’t so little anymore, are they?” She sniffled a bit.
Even as she turned, her husband was anticipating her move and made to cradle her close. He fished out a handkerchief and held it towards Anne. Anne gave a light blow of her nose.
“Yes,” Wakefield murmured. “How fast it all goes.” He’d found his out, or he thought he had. Anne’s tears vanished in an instant and her scowl was firmly back in place.
“You are not permitted to speak of it. You don’t yet have a wife or family, Benedict.”
He replied, “You are my family. Your children are like my own.”
“No, they’re my children, and Harry’s, of course.”
“Of course,” the old former rogue drawled.
“They are your nieces and nephews. And a couple of them are your godchildren, but you don’t have children of your own. And you really should. You’d make a great father and husband.”
“Preferably not in that order,” the earl said dryly.
That droll attempt at a jest hit Wakefield square in the gut.
“Yes, hopefully not in that order.” An image flickered forth of an imagined scene. One that involved Cressida. The spirited, peculiar minx cradling a small babe with her brown-blonde curls. He waited for the same wave of horror to hit him that had been a constant in his life for the past seventy-two hours. Strangely, it didn’t come.
“Benedict, Benedict,” Anne said more insistently.
