Page 59 of Her Impeccable Scoundrel
“The children are here now. I brought him and the girl to London.”
“The girl? Ah. Your cousin’s, er, illegitimate daughter. Well then, protection will be much easier to arrange.”
Morley departed, promising to return with at least one Bow Street man before morning.
“And what is your plan, Jarrow?” Graeme asked. “Lady Chilcombe was inclined to distrust your motives for accompanying us.”
“I never did have an opportunity to question her. I note that she didn’t join us tonight as promised. Not that I was planning to speak with her now.”
“She’s probably with the children.”
Jarrow frowned down at his glass. “Miss Coralie won’t be a child much longer. No matter the manner of her birth, she’s an earl’s daughter, and she’ll make some lucky man an intelligent wife. Beautiful, as well. Make sure he’s deserving.”
Graeme turned an astonished gaze on him, and Jarrow laughed.
“Miss Coralie is far too young for me… Now.”
“And in a few years? This is my young relation you’re speaking of.”
Jarrow shook his head. “I learned in the army to let the future take care of itself. But if you recall, I have an amiable, intelligent, and dare I say, pretty younger sister, so I’m facing the sort of worries you’ll very soon have yourself. And if you launch Miss Coralie into society as my mother is attempting to do with my sister…”
Jarrow grimaced, and Graeme wondered how many sensible suitors Mrs. Jarrow was driving away.
“I take your point,” he said. “Do you plan to offer your sister a London season once your father has recovered?”
Or passed away.
“Yes. Though, I’m not sure he’ll recover.” Jarrow’s frown deepened. “From some of his notes, I believe he had suspicions about the earl’s death, but what and about whom… well, I wish I could ask him. I truly don’t suspect Lady Chilcombe killed her husband. I want to track down that nurse, or forgive me, mistress or whatever she was, if she’s still living. I think she’ll shed light on the late earl’s death as well as this business of the will.”
“That blasted will,” Graeme said. Blythe might have burned one copy—and he hoped she had, but there was surely another one that had disappeared from the estate’s muniment room.
He’d best find the woman before Jarrow did.
“First, though,” Jarrow said, “I must attend to personal business. I’m seeking a physician to travel to Hampshire and examine my father.”
Graeme sat up. “As it happens, Lady Chilcombe would like Nicholas to be seen by someone in town. The lad has bouts of fever and lung problems, she says. If you hear of a competent man, please let me know.”
“Certainly. I’ll seek out the woman after that.”
That would give him a day’s head start.
An hour past Jarrow’s departure for bed, Graeme had been dozing in the chair when Morley returned with a hard-faced man he introduced as Tibbs, a Bow Street Runner who would remain and stand guard that night.
Blythe’s brother Will had not arrived home yet. Adwick—who was also still up—said the captain often didn’t arrive home until well after dawn. Graeme briefed Tibbs about Will and the servants he might possibly encounter and then left him and a footman on duty.
Still, he couldn’t help worrying.
Assuming the nursery might be on the top floor, he made his way there, the urge to check on the children’s safety driving him.
He’d never had the care of a child before, not in these circumstances anyway. Oh, now and then, he’d been assigned the duty of escorting an official’s wife and children from one post to another, but rarely when there was any real threat of harm, and never when the children were his own family.
As these two were. He supposed they were two more anchors keeping him from leaving England immediately. Despite her resilience and dedication, would Blythe be able to protect them?
He clutched the banister, fatigue dogging his steps. He’d gone twenty-four hours without sleep and needed some rest before the next day’s search.
First, though, he’d check on the children.
He saw a light burning under the door of a likely room and silently turned the knob.
