Gage had acquired it two years ago as an investment. However, Kit suspected the investment had less to do with profit and more to do with the fact that Gage had a weakness for people who'd been dealt a bad hand.
Kit climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked.
Mrs. Briggs opened the door. A sturdy, no-nonsense woman of fifty who served as nurse, cook, and guard all at once. She stepped aside without a word.
Clementine was sitting by the window, and in this light, she looked even younger than she was. Barely twenty, she had a round, pale face and reddish hair that she kept braided over one shoulder. She was a pretty girl, but now she mostly looked tired.
The relief that crossed her face when he entered was so raw it made his chest tight.
"My lord." She started to rise.
"Don't get up." He crossed the room and took the chair opposite her. "How are you feeling?"
"Well enough." Her hand rested on the swell of her belly. "Mrs. Briggs has been very kind."
"Good." He reached into his coat for an envelope. "This should cover the next month. And I've written to the shipping office about passage to Cork. There's a vessel departing in six weeks. That should give you enough time after—" He nodded toward her belly.
Clementine took the envelope. Her fingers trembled slightly. "You don't have to do this."
He frowned. "We've discussed this."
"I know. But the things they're saying about you now—" Her voice cracked. "I heard them, my lord. Mrs. Briggs tried to keep it from me, but the girl who brings the milk was talking about it on the stairs, and I—" She bit her lip. "They think the baby is yours. They think?—"
"I know what they think." He said it gently, reassuringly, but she still flinched.
"It's my fault." Her lower lip wobbled and he was reminded again of how young she was. Young, and naive, and utterly at the mercy of the man who'd promised to be her protector.
"It is not your fault," he said firmly. "None of this is your fault, Clementine."
She didn't look convinced as she fidgeted with the envelope in her hands and stared at the floor.
Kit leaned forward. "Listen to me. You are going to have this child. Then you're going to go home to your family. And you are going to have a good life. That is what matters. The rest—" He waved a hand. "The rest is not your concern."
"But the young lady," Clementine said quietly. "The one they say you've been courting."
Kit went still. For a moment he was back in the ballroom, with Clarissa in his arms.
"Is she…" Clementine's eyes widened. "Is she someone you care about?"
He looked away, banishing the mental image. "She's not part of this."
Clementine studied him with eyes that were far too perceptive. But she had the grace not to press.
He stayed for another quarter of an hour, going over the arrangements. But the sound of boots on the stairs came before a knock, and then Gage appeared in the doorway.
He nodded to Clementine, who gave him a small, grateful smile. Then he turned to Kit. "A note arrived at the club for you." He held out a folded paper. "From your aunt."
Kit took it. The duchess's handwriting was unmistakable.
Come at once. — P.
Kit frowned. "When did this arrive?"
"An hour ago. I came as soon as I could." Gage glanced at Clementine, then back at Kit.
Kit folded the note and slipped it into his coat.
"Go," Gage said. "I'll stay with her."
