Page 29 of The Pleasures of Passion
“No, indeed. It’s time my fiancé met him.” Brilliana set aside her sketchbook and waggled her fingers at Silas. “Come to Mama, sweeting, and let me fix Jack. You’ll break him if you keep shoving the lid down without having all the clown inside.”
He scowled and continued to struggle with the toy.
For some reason, that tickled his stern great-aunt so much that she laughed. “That boy is as stubborn and proud as his father, even at this young age.”
“True.” It had been Reynold’s pride that had sent him rushing to root out the man she’d loved. And it had been his failure that had sent him—
Lord, she must stop thinking of that! It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t! And she certainly wasn’t going to let Silas grow up to be like him.
“Silas, you come here right now and bring Jack to me!” He hesitated, but clearly recognized the peremptory note in her voice. Sullenly, he toddled over to her, dragging the clown by its already ragged head. She shoved the clown back in and pushed the lid shut, then, before he could grab it and run off, picked him up and set him on her knee.
“You see? There’s nothing wrong with needing help.” Lord knew that if his father had ever asked for her help in anything, she would gladly have given it. “You tried hard—that’s all that matters.” She lavished kisses on him as he struggled to get down and run off with his toy.
Then a voice sounded from the doorway out to the garden. “Such a foolish lad to be fighting so. A man would give much to be in his position.”
Brilliana’s heart faltered.
She looked over to where Niall stood leaning against the doorframe, looking even more luscious than usual in riding boots and buckskin, with his hair fashionably tousled and his lips curved in a faint smile. His Pomona-green coat brought out the green in his hazel eyes, which held an unsettling hint of envy.
“What a very pretty compliment, coming from a man who’s not a romantic,” Aunt Agatha cut in. “I suspect you would do very well on the marriage mart, Lord Margrave.”
“I doubt that,” Brilliana said as she set Silas back on the ground, where he immediately went to cranking the handle of the box. “Any clever woman would see right through that insincere remark. Everyone knows that men hate being fussed over just as much as little boys do.”
With a brooding expression, Niall pushed away from the doorframe. “Not all men.” The very air between them seemed to heat, and for a moment, it felt just like when she’d been courted by him with tender care.
Then the jack-in-the-box sprang open and Silas gave a little clap of delight, which thankfully drew Niall’s attention from her. “So this is your son, is it?”
“Yes. This is Silas.” She patted his head, though he was utterly engrossed in shoving the clown back in the box again. “Silas, this is Lord Margrave.”
Niall nodded slightly, now every inch the unobtainable earl she’d grown accustomed to seeing of late. “A pleasure to meet you, Master Silas.”
And, to her horror, Silas began to howl.
Niall’s heart sank. He didn’t know much about children, but that did not sound good. He hadn’t meant to frighten the child, for God’s sake. Had he been frowning? It was possible. Seeing her with her babe had nearly undone him.
That could have beenhischild, if she hadn’t chosen another man to marry. Perhaps, even, to love? God, the possibility of that cut him clean through.
“Silas, my sweet!” Bree picked up the lad again and dandled him on her knee. “Heavens, what is wrong?” She glanced at Niall apologetically. “He’s rather shy of strangers, but this is not typical.”
“No doubt he’s heard of Margrave’s reputation,” Lady Pensworth quipped.
Niall scowled at her, but the old battle-ax merely smiled unrepentantly.
Then the boy thrust his hand at his mother. “Ow!” he said as tears rolled down his chubby cheeks. “Ow,ow!”
Bree took his hand and examined it. “Oh, dear, look at this. You pinched your thumb trying to put the lid down. That’s why you mustn’t be so rough shoving the clown in.” She kissed the red mark. “There, there now. It will be all right. Nurse will fetch salve for it, and it will be fine in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
The nurse, who’d been standing discreetly to the side, said, “I’ll be right back, ma’am,” and hurried into the house.
This time when Bree cuddled the lad, he let her hold him, thrusting his thumb in his mouth and leaning into her embrace as she rocked him and murmured soothing words of consolation about how brave he was being.
Niall could hardly bear to watch the tender scene. The child was like any other, he supposed—with reddish curls and brown eyes that mirrored his mother’s, not to mention a very handsome face—but it was her reaction to him that made Niall’s heart twist. She was as affectionate to the lad as any man could want the mother of his children to be. It took him completely by surprise.
Granted, just because a woman was grasping in her choice of husbands didn’t mean she would neglect her babes, but his own mother had packed him and Clarissa off to the nurse whenever she could. He only remembered seeing Mother in the evening, when she came to kiss them good night. Indeed, most aristocratic parents were rather distant to their children.
Clearly, Bree wasn’t that sort. And the way she fussed over young Silas, who took it for granted with the self-centeredness of all babes, made Niall’s gut knot. Once, he would have given anything to be in the lad’s place.
He frowned. What absurdity. How could he be jealous of a mere child? She was doing what any other caring mother might do. Why, for all he knew, this was just a show put on for Niall’s benefit.
