Bridget swallowed deeply. Gowns were the last of her concerns. If she was indeed pregnant, it was Stephen’s baby. A man with a well-deserved reputation for avoiding personal commitment.
I am a widow. And if I am with child, I am in deep trouble.
She had just narrowly averted a shocking scandal. Was she about to leap into another even greater one?
Chapter Thirty
“Aboy. A dog. A . . .”
Stephen leaned over and pointed at the word Toby was struggling to pronounce.
“This one has one more letter than the others, but you just have to slow down and try. What is the first letter?”
“F,” replied Toby.
“Very good. Now the next one is ‘R’. So, what do you have?”
A bright smile lit up Toby’s face and he clapped with glee. “Frog! A boy. A dog. A frog.”
Stephen patted him gently on the back. “Well done.”
Toby’s reading was improving every day. Mostly due to Alice’s efforts, but Stephen was also taking the time to spend at least an hour every day helping his younger brother with his studies. The big, old, battered dining table in the offices of the RR Coaching Company was the perfect place for them to sit and work.
He cast a friendly eye over the boy as Toby turned the page and started on the next words. It had only been a matter of months since the young lad had come to live at Gracechurch Street, but in that time, he had made himself very much a part of the place.
Even gruff Andrew McNeal, the Duke of Monsale, had taken a shine to Toby. Earlier that morning he had arrived bearing a basket of berries and plums freshly picked from his garden just for the boy. Stephen’s heart had swelled with pride as his young charge counted them out on the table before helping himself to a hearty serving.
The question of what he was going to do with his brother in the long term was yet to be established. The current arrangement of Toby spending most of his time, and nights, at Harry and Alice’s house was not something that could be maintained forever.
Nor was the situation with regard to Toby’s name and status. The boy would eventually start to ask questions, and even if he didn’t, then strangers likely would. The question as to why Stephen had brought a stray orphan back to London with him would be topmost in people’s minds.
Admitting their familial connection was oddly something Stephen was reluctant to do. As long as he remained simply Toby’s guardian, their relationship would exist merely as friends. He feared the changes and expectations that would come once his brother knew the truth.
I don’t want him to know because then he will want me to not only help take care of him, but to show him brotherly affection.
With that sort of fondness, Toby would no doubt come to love him. And love was something Stephen had no idea how to handle. Or give.
The Steele family carriage came and collected Toby at exactly three o’clock every afternoon. With the recently married George Hawkins no longer helping Gus with his cross-channel smuggling trips on theNight Wind, it had fallen to Stephen to undertake the task. Small boys could not be left alone at night. And despite Toby’s protests, nor could they be taken all the way to France.
When the knock came at the door of the offices, Stephen assumed it was because his young charge had, as usual, left something behind and one of Harry and Alice’s footmen was waiting outside to collect it. He was still wracking his brains as to what Toby had forgotten when he opened the door and found not a Steele-house footman but rather a Dyson footman standing on the threshold.
The man bowed and offered Stephen a note. “Lady Dyson instructed me to deliver this to you.”
Stephen went to close the door, but the footman put a boot in the way. “She was specific with her instructions. You are to read the letter and then come with me back to Berkley Square.”
So, she has finally decided that it might be in her best interests to apologize. I’m not sure if I am still interested in her or not. That boat may have already sailed.
He ushered the footman inside. “Give me a moment to read this, and I shall get my coat. Help yourself to the pot of coffee on the table. It should still be hot.”
With letter in hand, Stephen headed to the privacy of his room. He had an inkling that it would be best if he opened and absorbed the contents of the note on his own.
He broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
Dearest Stephen,
I need to urgently speak with you. It is a delicate matter and not one I wish to share with anyone else at present.
My carriage will bring you to my home.
