Page 27 of To Claim the Long-Lost Lover
When he pulled away, she whimpered.
His voice was strained as he stepped back, using his grasp on her hands to hold her at arm’s-length. “Dearest heart, have mercy. I am on fire, and if you are not going to invite me to stay...”
Oh. Her face heated. She dropped her gaze to his fall and blinked.
“Indeed,” he confirmed, with a short laugh. “I thought I had acquired considerable control over these past seven years, but you are fast demolishing it, my lady. Let me wish you a good night while I am still sane enough to be a gentleman.”
He was correct again, though for a wild moment she had not been able to think of any reason not to invite him to continue what they’d started. “Tomorrow, then,” she managed.
Nate gave her hands a final squeeze and released them. “Tomorrow,” he confirmed, with a bow.
Sarah followed him to the door and watched him cross the entrance hall where a footman waited to let him out.Four, she said to herself as the door closed behind him.One more point for that kiss, and another for stopping.
12
Nate couldn’t persuade Libby to accompany him. “I cannot come with you,” she kept saying.
He explained that he needed her and the children to cover his purpose in being there. “If I turn up on my own near the children and the ducks, and start talking to the Winderfield party, it will be all over town within the hour,” he pointed out.
“Lord Lechton does not wish to acknowledge the marriage, Nate,” Libby said. “I cannot come with you, Bentham. I am sorry.”
“Lord Lechton will change his mind when he realises what this means,” Nate assured her, though he did wonder. The old man was not flexible in his thinking. “His heir already has a legitimate heir. He has achieved his goal.”
“Perhaps.” Libby was even more doubtful than Nate. “But we cannot ask him, for he went out after you argued yesterday evening, and has not come home. I cannot come with you.”
He could not push her further. She was right that his father’s wrath would fall unequally, since there wasn’t much he could do to Nate, but Libby was fully in the old reprobate’s power. “Do not concern yourself, Libby. I will think of something else.”
“Take the girls.” Libby looked surprised by her own suggestion, but took a deep breath and repeated it. “Yes. Take the girls. Lechton cannot blamemeifyoutake the girls to the park and happen to meet Lady Sarah. How would I know your intention?” She blushed, bright scarlet. “You must think me dreadful, to suggest deceiving my husband.”
“On the contrary,” Nate reassured her. “I think you a brave sweet lady, doing her best by your husband’s son. Yes, and Lechton, too, for he will only make a fool of himself if he goes up against the will of the Duke of Winshire, and the duke has accepted me as Sarah’s husband.”
Libby’s eyes widened. “Truly? Then you must go to the park, Bentham. Indeed, I must say I think it very wicked to separate a husband and wife, even if you were a disobedient son to marry Lady Sarah against your father’s wishes. But if the marriage is real, then there is nothing further to be said.” She gave a determined nod. “Indeed, it is my duty to help you and your wife. Take your sisters to the park, my lord. I shall tell their nurse and the governess.”
“Say nothing of my marriage for the moment, Libby, if you please. I have promised Lady Sarah time to consider whether she wishes it to be known.”
Libby’s eyes rounded. “She might refuse to remain married, you mean? But divorce would ruin her, Bentham.”
“Let us hope it does not come to that. Indeed, I am hopeful that I can win her again, and I certainly mean to try. For I tell you, Libby, if I cannot win my wife back, I will never marry.”
“Oh dear,” Libby responded. “I will say nothing, then, but I do wish you every success.”
As a result, Nate found himself escorting a bevy of females to the Chinese Bridge in St James Park. Honoria, aged five, walked beside him, holding his hand. The nurse followed, with three-year-old Lavinia in her arms, with the nursemaid pushing the baby carriage containing little Phillida, most commonly known as Baby. A footman trailed the party, carrying the essential bags of stale bread and buns, and another carried umbrellas in case the hovering clouds turned to rain.
Built for the victory celebrations earlier that year, the Chinese Bridge had fallen victim to the fireworks it had hosted for the occasion. It still stood, though fire scorched, but the pagoda that had been the centrepiece was gone.
Sarah and her sister had chosen a spot just along the bank of the canal. Lord Andrew was in attendance. A nursemaid stood back with several of the Winderfield guard. But Nate only had eyes for Sarah and the boy. Elias. His son. He was breaking chunks of bread off a loaf and tossing it to a squabbling rabble of ducks, and Sarah was right beside him, laughing at the birds’ antics, pointing to ducks that had been shouldered to the outskirts, and making comments that had Elias tipping back his head to shout with laughter.
Nate shepherded his entourage to the side of the Winderfield party, and nodded to the footman to distribute the bread to the two older girls. Baby was sound asleep in her carriage.
Lord Andrew opened the conversation between the two parties. “Good day, Bentham. Your sisters, I take it?”
“Lady Honoria Beauclair and Lady Lavinia with the ducks.” Nate broke off to swoop Lavie up into his arms as half a dozen ducks at once tried to pull the bread from her arms, and she opened her mouth to roar. “A little bit at a time, sweetheart,” he told her, demonstrating as he settled her safely on one arm.
“And Lady Phillida asleep in the carriage,” he added.
Lady Charlotte was staring at Norie. “My goodness, Sarah, Lady Honoria and El—your ward could be brother and sister.”
She was right. They had the same colouring, the same lean frame and oval face, the same determined chin and straight brows with a downward hook at the end. Elias’s hair was cropped short, but still showed a tendency to curl, as did Norie’s under her pretty cloth bonnet.
