“I’m not abandoning him. He will have a roof over his head and three hot meals a day. It’s more than many other bastards ever get.” He pushed past Granville and made straight for his horse. A brief nod was all he could manage in the direction of Mrs. Granville and Toby.
Taking hold of the reins and placing one foot in the stirrups, Stephen swung up and settled himself into the saddle. He glanced over toward Mister Granville.
“I will send word once I have selected a school.”
With the horse’s head turned toward the front gate, he dug in his heels. The horse leapt away. If Mister Granville called anything out to him in reply, Stephen didn’t hear it. He didn’t want to have anything to do with raising a child.
He made it as far as the end of the drive before he pulled on the reins and brought his racing steed to a halt. Head bowed, he wrestled with his guilty conscience.
“Oh, bloody bollocks,” he muttered.
He tossed the reins aside as he jumped down from the horse. His mount wandered away to nibble on some grass, leaving Stephen to grapple with his dilemma all on his own.
Granville’s words had struck deep, right to painful memories long buried. He had thought himself strong enough to withstand the steward’s pleas, but the look on Toby’s face as he passed him by had almost brought Stephen undone. He knew that look only too well; it was one he had also often worn as a young child.
It was the look of hope.
Before he realized what he was doing, Stephen was kicking up a stone with the toe of his boot. Just like the boy had done at the church. Nervous habits appeared to run in the Moore family blood.
My blood. My family. He is my family.
He had grown up without siblings or any real presence of his parents in his life. Toby was destined to walk the same lonely road that Stephen had done during his younger years.
“And look how that has turned out for you.”
Emotionally repressed. Cold and at times heartless, he was the creation of parental disinterest.
And if he left now, abandoned Toby when he needed him the most, all he would achieve would be to create his brother in his own image. He wasn’t sure of a lot of things, but of one he was certain—the world did not need another broken Moore.
“What am I going to do?”
It wouldn’t be easy, raising a boy on his own. He didn’t have a wife or female relatives to support him. But he did have friends.
I can give him the material things in life. He will never want. Perhaps if I can speak to Alice, she might be able to help.
Lady Alice Steele was warm-hearted and kind. She wouldn’t be the sort to turn her back on a young boy, especially not when he was in need of a mother. A friendly smile and the odd hug were all he would ask of her. It was more than he had ever received.
It’s better than nothing.
He wiped away the tears which had sprung up from nowhere. How many times had he walked this long, lonely drive from house to road weeping as a child? Too bloody many.
“If this all ends in a mess, at least no one can say I didn’t try.”
His horse lifted its head as Stephen approached and gave a friendly whinny in greeting.
Yes, I know. I am doing the right thing. Or at least I hope I am.
Five minutes later, with Toby seated in front of him and the boy’s things stuffed into his saddlebags, Sir Stephen Moore galloped out the front gate of Moore Manor.
He had just become a parent.
Chapter Eight
Going out in society was the last thing on Bridget’s list of enjoyable activities right at this very minute. Instead of mixing with London’s elite, all she wanted to do was to crawl under the bed clothes and hide.
But that would mean admitting defeat. And accepting that the person who was trying to blackmail her family had already won.
She had endured enough of those days while married to Rupert. Had heard so many of the spiteful whispers about her being theBarren Baronessto have developed somewhat of a steel spine. If she hadn’t, she would have taken to her bed long ago and stayed there.
