Lady Elspeth gasped and stepped away, her face a bright scarlet. “You would not dare, sirrah.”
He held his arms wide. “You are looking, my dear ladies, at a man with nothing to lose.” He dropped them to his sides with a wry smile. “So please do not tempt me. Now. Shoo.”
Mary watched, her own mind caught in astonishment, as the two women hurried away. As the crowd around them dispersed, she shook her head as Lord Thaddeus approached her. “It will not stop them from gossiping.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Of course not. Spreading tales is in their blood and their only way to amuse themselves, since they are incapable of finding interest in anything else.” He looked down at the two infants, who had slumbered through the entire fuss. “Are these—”
“Who are you?” Mattie demanded. She had pulled free of Nanny’s hand and now stared up at Lord Thaddeus in the same way she did Kit.
Before Mary could answer, Lord Thaddeus squatted to face the little girl, holding out one hand. “I am Thad. Who are you?”
She took his hand and gave it a single, firm shake. “I’m Mattie.” She pointed down to the babies. “That’s my brother Joshua. And that’s Mina.” She looked back at Lord Thaddeus. “We’ve told everyone she’s Beth’s but she’s really Mary’s.”
“Mattie!” Nanny’s gasp drew the girl’s attention.
Mattie looked around. “What? I thought we were not going to keep it a secret anymore.”
Mary bit her lip to keep from laughing as Lord Thaddeus slowly rose to his feet, staring at her. They had been assured of Nanny’s discretion. They had forgotten about Mattie’s. She reached down and stroked the girl’s hair. “You are correct. We did say that.” She looked up at Lord Thaddeus. “We should talk.”
A wry smile crossed his face. “Preferably,” he said slowly, “out of the hearing of little girls.”
Mary grinned. “Indeed.” After a few moments, she laughed under her breath, remembering their earlier conversation.
“What is it?”
“I am glad, Lord Thaddeus, in the midst of that altercation, that you managed to keep your hat.”
“Ah, what can I say? You inspire me to millinery precision.”
“Well, let us hope I can do better than that.”
“Oh, I have no doubt on that score, Lady Mary. No doubt at all.”
Friday, 28 April 1826
Kirkstone House
Half-past four in the afternoon
Thad stood inthe front parlor of Kirkstone House, his mind wandering back over the last few hours. He waited alone, as Lady Mary had gone to freshen up, and Nanny had returned to the nursery with the children. Servants had been sent for tea and to find the duke and duchess, but no one had returned yet. Lady Mary had invited him to sit, but he preferred to remain standing.
Thad did not mind. The quietness gave him a moment to collect his own whirling thoughts and feelings in a pleasant and cozy room. He had been in it only a few moments during his prior visit, and now he appreciated that it felt warm and welcoming after the frenetic activity of the park, with its deep blues and light woods rendering it neither too masculine nor too feminine. Books lay haphazardly on almost every flat surface, and a few soft-looking blankets draped the backs of every chairand the two settees, which were separated by a low table. Twin wingbacks flanked the fire, and in front of the window overlooking the street, an armchair sat next to a table holding an inkpot, a box of quills, and a tray of paper. A pair of spectacles rested on an accent table near one wingback, and an open sketchbook lay on top of a low bookcase near the far wall. A family room, well and often used.
No such room existed in the house of his parents. They seldom gathered together beyond the dining room and rarely entertained. After meals, they scattered, with his father and older brother retreating to the study to drink brandy, smoke cigars, and discuss business and politics. One or two of his sisters would retire with his mother to her boudoir. Thad and his younger brother usually went out to the clubs or to the stables, as neither desired lingering in the house. No one ever asked where they went as no one particularly cared.
Thad had realized long ago that he lived in a house of strangers. Sharing blood did not make one a family.
Thad moved closer to the fireplace, which lay cold and black, unused in the unusual warmth of the season. Over the mantel, a portrait of four people loomed over the room, and Thad recognized the young man in it as the duke and the girl, who could not have been more than twelve or thirteen when the portrait had been painted, as Lady Mary. The older man and woman, obviously the previous duke and duchess, shared a settee in the painting, while Lady Mary sat between them and their son stood to the rear. A rather formal setting—until Thad realized that dogs filled the room. One lay on each side of Mary on the settee and two more lay on the floor near her feet. Her mother’s hand caressed the hound between them and the one between her and her father had laid its head on his thigh.
In Mary’s lap, a kitten had curled into a fuzzy ball, and her thumb lay lightly on the creature’s head.
“So not just the Highland Ponies,” he murmured.
A family.
Thad crossed his arms as a slight ache gripped his chest, and he looked away, deciding to examine the titles in the bookcase instead.
Thad’s mind began to calm, an unexpected resolve building within, a neat contrast to the chaos that had started when he met George earlier in the day. With George continuing his unrelenting snit about Thad’s debt and the news about Lady Mary, Thad had left his friend stewing at the coffee house under the tender ministrations of Stella.
