Page 3 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

“Quite right,” Lady Marwich said. “The poor boy.”

“He has no mother or father,” Temperance mused, a frown drawn between her brows. “Who will take him?”

Jessamine rubbed her temples. A headache loomed, but she did not have time for that right now. There were more important things to think about.

And only one solution that she could see.

She stepped forward. “I will take him.”

Silence greeted her. Lady Marwich’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You?”

“Rebecca named me William’s godmother.”

“But you are a child,” Lady Marwich said.

“I am one-and-twenty,” Jessamine said, folding her arms. “Above the age of majority. Besides, I have no guardian who would deny me.”

“You have us,” Lady Marwich said.

Temperance winked. “Are you not fortunate?”

“Quite, Lady Temperance.” Lady Marwich leaned both hands against her cane. “Have you thought this through, Jessamine? You are unwed and living with your sister and brother-in-law. This could ruin your reputation. And affect theirs.”

“If I think it will harm Irene,” Jessamine said, “then of course I will act. But consider, my dear Lady Marwich: I am accustomed to the wilds of Scotland. What care I for the harsh words of the ton?”

“You will care when they bite you,” Lady Marwich said.

“People can be extraordinarily harsh,” Evelyn said.

Jessamine waved the concerns aside. “Rebecca is…” She paused, fighting the urge to do something unladylike.

She wanted to scream in anguish. Throw a table at the window. Go back, somehow, and save Rebecca from the marriage that had destroyed her. William was alive; he was what mattered now.

“Rebecca was my dearest friend,” she continued, “and I will not abandon her son. Who else will look after him? Rebecca’s father sold her to Lord Cartwell, so it’s clear he cares nothing for her. The current Earl of Cartwell won’t take the child in, you know that as well as I do. I will care for William.”

She met the gazes of the assembled ladies defiantly, waiting for them to tell her that such a thing was impractical.

And indeed, she knew it would be. But she had achieved the impractical before, and she would do it again.

“I don’t care about London, about the ton or the marriage mart,” she repeated, in case there should be any doubt on the matter. “I like all of you, of course, but I care nothing for them.” She gestured at the window. “If I must leave for the country to raise William myself, then I will do it without hesitation.”

To her surprise, Lady Marwich was the first to smile. “Well said,” she said approvingly. “It will not be an easy task, but Rebecca was counting on you, and it is warming to see you are determined to do what is right, not what is easy.”

“We will help, if we can,” Evelyn said, then glanced nervously about the room. “Will we not?”

“We will,” Temperance said determinedly. “Although I do not see precisely what we can do.”

“You must contact Rebecca’s solicitor to arrange the funeral and any necessary legal matters. Someone ought to write to her cousin, the Duke of Knightford, too, so he knows about the situation.”

The door opened, and a maid entered with a basket in her arms. A small bundle inside moved slightly, carefully swaddled.

“He has been fed,” the maid said, “but he will need feeding again in a couple of hours.”

“I’ll make provisions,” Jessamine said, accepting the basket.

Everything else—Rebecca, the practical side of contacting solicitors and banks and any of this other business—could wait. The other ladies could do it.

Jessamine had to take William home and arrange care for him as soon as possible.