Page 41 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
“Why, yes.”
She must have looked shocked because Lady Tepping added, “Not for no reason of course. One must have the usual charge of adultery or some such, and witnesses can always be found to testify to whatever charge works best. I’ve made a study of it and threatened Lord Tepping on one or two occasions. We were married in Edinburgh, you know.”
Paulette’s heart took it in. This was shocking and novel. Watching her mother rot in the country, she’d always thought of marriage as an impossible snare.
“My dear,” Lady Hackwell said “Lady Tepping is having us on. There are no two people so firmly hitched as she and her husband, except for me and mine of course.”
Both ladies were still laughing when the men joined them.
Agruen slunk into the room, his oily smile in place as Lord Hackwell spoke to him. Paulette sat straighter in her chair. She would need to muster all of her wits, all of her composure, and, perhaps, all of the skills Jock had tried to teach her.
Bink circulated within the room, following Paulette who was unobtrusively trying to speak to Agruen.
The ass coerced her to play the piano, grabbing a music sheet from the pile, a new popular song. She stumbled through the piece, hitting sour notes here and there.
Agruen moved to the other side of the room, watching, and when the song ended, started out for the bench where she sat.
“Go and turn pages for her, Thomas,” Bink said. After helping his tutor to his room, Thomas had been allowed to return to the drawing room.
Thomas looked at him quizzically and saluted. “I’ll report back, sir.”
Bink grinned, watching the boy’s meandering path to the piano. Thomas and Agruen reached Paulette at the same time.
She made room for the boy on the bench.
He’d spurted up in the past months, catching up to his Beauverde height. Something he said to Paulette made her smile, the warmth of it reaching all the way to Bink and making him chuckle. Watch out, Hackwell—Thomas would have no trouble with the ladies.
Aye, and wouldn’t he like to have that smile cast upon himself?
Agruen said something to make the smile slip. She flipped pages of music, her lips moving. The chatting and scowling went on until finally she began to play quite ably a dark, sad, melody.
The room quietened, everyone listening, and at the end applauding. She played two more songs of her own choosing, and the party broke off soon afterwards. Thomas hovered nearby her as she said her good nights, and walked out with her.
When the guests and Lady Hackwell went up, Hackwell pulled Bink aside.
He steeled himself for the questioning about Paulette. It had been a whirlwind since his arrival, and he’d had little time to think. He needed to clear any immediate estate business and decide what to do with her.
And Lady Hackwell was the person to talk to about Paulette, not her husband. If anyone knew what to do with an orphaned young lady of very little means, it would be Annabelle Harris. But with this damnable party here, finding the moment would be difficult.
“Free up your afternoon tomorrow, Gibson. I’m going to need you.”
“For the shooting?” Bink asked. “I have letters to catch up on.”
“We’ll shoot in the morning. Better you’re not there. That fool Agruen is likely to blow up a gun. Damned dangerous business with one like him. No, Bella and Lady Tepping will handle this bunch in the afternoon. You and I have…estate business.”
“I see. Something I need to prepare for?”
“Not at all. Only be dressed for a ride. Can you see to the locking up?”
“Aye, milord.”
Hackwell smiled and clapped him on the back. “You’re a damned stubborn man, Bink Gibson. But a good one.”
He wasin the same sitting room chair Hackwell had occupied earlier, nursing a whisky, when Thomas arrived.
One candle lit the room dimly. The house had gone quiet. Thomas had likely waited for the nursemaid to drowse before sneaking out. Paulette should be abed now, too, in some virginal white nightrail, her dark hair spreading over the pillow.
He shook off that thought and threw back his drink. If the boy was here, he had something to say. “Well?”
