Page 93 of The Art of Sinning
With a startled expression, Jeremy turned to face her. Then a sly smile kicked up one corner of his mouth. “I thought I owed yourbrothera portrait. As I recall, you weren’t that keen on it.”
“Well, I’m keen on it now. You have to finish it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you also still owe me a chance to find my brother’s son. So you see, you can’t leave yet. You haven’t done what you promised.”
A shadow crossed his face, and his smile vanished. “Not the first part, no. But I have done what I promised regarding your brother.”
That knocked the breath from her. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He glanced down at the desk and tapped his fingers restlessly on what looked like a small stack of papers. Then he came around to face her, his gaze steady. “Bonnaud has found your nephew.”
Not expecting that, she swayed a little on her feet. He darted forward to catch her around the waist. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I should have given you more warning.”
Her mind stuttered into a gallop, putting things together. The appearance of Mr. Bonnaud here. The odd way Jeremy had looked at her when he’d called her in. “But how... When...” She narrowed an accusing gaze on him. “I asked you not to involve your relations!”
“Because you feared that they would be indiscreet. But I knew otherwise.”
She pulled away from him. “Oh, you did, did you?”
“Yes. And you’ll have to trust my judgment in that because I cannot tell you why. But I had good reason to believe in their discretion. So I hired them. It was better than your risking your reputation to find the lad.” He smiled faintly. “And I knew you’d never stop looking.”
The warmth in his eyes spread a soothing heat through her jangled nerves. “When did you arrange—”
“The day after the masquerade ball. They’ve been working on it ever since.”
Oh, Lord. All this time. And he’d engineered it for her. How very sweet. Surely it showed a level of caring beyond the ever-present desire simmering between them. “So... so that’s why Mr. Bonnaud is here.”
“Yes. To consult with you and your brother. Bonnaud cannot continue to pursue this without the earl’s consent.”
Her heart sank. “No, no, no, no... Edwin mustn’t be involved. He will never forgive me!”
Jeremy stepped up to steady her with a hand under her elbow. “First of all, Blakeborough isn’t your enemy. He is perfectly capable of listening to reason.”
“That’s whatyouthink. When he hears about the brothel visit and our bargain and—”
“We don’t need to tell him any of that, sweetheart. We’ll say that you confided your concerns to me, and I decided to find the boy on my own. I enlisted the help of the Duke’s Men because I knew that, as my family, they would keep the secrets of me and my friends. Your brother need never hear the whole truth.”
When she just stood there, trembling, he added softly, “But youmusttell him what’s going on. Otherwise, the child will be sent to the Foundling Hospital.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
“The lad’s mother wants to marry, and her would-be husband doesn’t want her by-blow hanging about. So if Blakeborough doesn’t step in to help, she means to place the boy elsewhere. And you’ll lose all chance of overseeing his care.”
Her heart flipped over in her chest. “She can’t do that. He deserves a home, a family.”
“Well, he’s not going to get one unless you involve your brother. Only Blakeborough has the kind of connections—and the motivation to use them—to find a deserving family for the lad.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she admitted, “That’s probably true.”
“So you’re willing to bring your brother into it?”
With a sigh, she nodded. She couldn’t let the poor child go to the Foundling Hospital. He deserved to have a loving adoptive mother.
“Good.” Jeremy squeezed her elbow reassuringly. “First, I think we should send for your brother, so the two of us can explain everything. Then we can bring Bonnaud in to present the details of his report, which is on the desk. I haven’t had time to read the whole thing, but he gave me the gist of it. I’m sure he will be happy to answer your questions. All right?”
She released a shaky breath. “Yes.”
As Jeremy stepped into the hall to have a servant summon Edwin, she wandered to the desk to look at the papers. A name caught her eye: Elias Samuel. Miss Moreton had named her child after his father.
Unexpectedly, tears burned Yvette’s eyes. It was nearly over. All that was left was to prove, to Edwin’s satisfaction, that Elias was Samuel’s boy. Then Yvette could deliver the letter to Miss Moreton—or Edwin could—and could arrange for Meredith to take care of their nephew. Her obligation to Samuel would be fulfilled.
