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His heart hitched when he recalled the hours of delight they would indulge in before succumbing to sleep. It was as if every night, each kiss and touch, brought a new discovery.
Hugh exhaled silently. Stop acting like a besotted fool.
He frowned. Is that what I am…besotted?
“You seem distracted,” Caroline said, humor dancing in her eyes. She reposed on the chaise reading a children’s story because she believed that even at this age, Franny understood. Hugh agreed and often read to his daughter as well using his signs while Phoebe told the story.
Caroline sent him a considering glance. “Dare I ask what—or who—you are thinking about?”
“No.”
She sent him a naughty grin that should have alarmed him, but Hugh only smiled. His sister would have much to curtail when she entered the ton. Franny stirred where she slumbered against his chest, and he gently rubbed her back in a soothing motion. She calmed, and a fierce sensation clutched at his heart. His young daughter already trusted and relied on him.
A rumble of thunder echoed, and she stirred again. How he wished he could talk to her and offer reassurance or even sing to her, as he often witnessed Phoebe doing. Never had he regretted his muteness. Before it had simply been a part of him, and it was a foolish exercise to waste emotions on a situation that he knew could never be changed. But sometimes, Hugh found himself just wishing Franny would be able to hear his voice, even once. It gladded something inside of him that she loved whenever he played his flute for her.
“Would you like me to take her?” Caroline asked softly.
He shook his head and made his way over to the sofa and sat.
“You seemed troubled,” Caroline said with a small frown. She came off the longue, padded to the large armchair close to him, toed off her slippers, and sat, curling her toes in the soft carpet.
He lifted one of his hands and slowly signed. “More contemplative.”
At her birdlike look of inquiry, and after a brief hesitation, he said, “Franny will never hear me read to her.”
“
I already see Phoebe speaking and signing to her. Franny…and all your children will know how to speak your language early on.”
He had seen his wife doing that, leaning over the basinet and singing to their daughter. Another never felt but very pleasant sensation had expanded in his chest when he realized his wife also signed along.
A knock sounded, and Caroline called for the person to enter.
“I beg your lordship’s pardon,” his butler said, looking uncharacteristically worried as he shuffled inside.
He lifted his fingers. “What is it?”
“I…ah…it seems the countess…” Words failed the man, and Caroline sprang to her feet.
“Has something happened to Phoebe?”
Hugh shot to his feet, and Franny stirred, a soft whimper escaping her.
The butler looked relieved to be answering Caroline and directed his attention to her. “It seemed her ladyship…has left, your lordship.”
Something in the butler’s tone had ice congealing inside Hugh’s chest. With affected calm, he took Franny over to the basinet by the window and gently laid her inside. Then he turned to his butler and signed, “What do you mean?”
He swallowed. “She was seen…your lordship.”
Hugh patiently signed. “Seen doing what?”
“Getting into a carriage, my lord.”
A carriage? “My wife should be under the willow tree either reading or sleeping. That has been her routine this last week, and she’s not indicated she would go anywhere.”
The way his butler’s eyes shifted again had that knot growing colder. He waited with calm until the man faced him once more. “Seen by whom?”
“By me.”
