Page 53 of Barbarous

“Uncle Malcolm gave them to us,” Lucien said, taking advantage of his brother’s unarmed state to prod him in the armpit.

Richard yelped and Daphne’s vision wavered. Malcolm . . .

She had to steady herself against a nearby bookshelf before handing the weapon back to her son. “Never attack an unarmed man, Lucien.” Her voice was raw and edged with hysteria. The boys had visited Malcolm—their father . . . How? How had this happened?

She swallowed down her fear. “Where did you see Sir Malcolm?”

“At Whitton Park, Mama, that’s where he lives.” Lucien sounded amazed his clever mama didn’t know such a simple fact. “Martín takes us with him when he sees his friend. She gives us cakes from the kitchen,” he added fatuously.

Daphne’s first urge was to run down to the stables, find the young idiot, and throttle him.

Nurse came into the room just then. “Ah, here you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, young masters. You haven’t finished the work the curate left for you.”

Daphne waited for the boys to leave before yanking the bellpull, pacing furiously until a servant answered.

“Find Martín Bouchard and send him to the library immediately.”

By the time Gates ushered a partially clad Martín into the library a half hour later, Daphne had walked a rut into the carpet.

Her usually imperturbable butler sported two telltale spots of red on his cheeks.

In fact, Martín was the only one who appeared to be at ease. He wore an expression of amused condescension but not a coat, waistcoat, or neckcloth. His unbuttoned shirt exposed a shocking expanse of muscular brown chest and Daphne felt the dreaded flush heat her face. Just looking at the man made her body taut and tingly and her brain hazy and hot; not even Hugh exuded such raw sexuality.

An insolent smile played around his sensual lips, telling her he was well aware of the effect his body had on women.

“You may go,” she told Gates, whose stiff posture radiated a degree of outrage she might have found amusing in other circumstances.

Daphne waited only until the door closed before launching her attack. “You have been taking my sons to Whitton Park?”

She watched in openmouthed astonishment as he lowered himself unbidden into a chair, stretched out his booted legs, and crossed his muscular arms. Once he was comfortable, he gave her a mocking smile along with a careless shrug.

Molten rage erupted inside her and she sprang to her feet, grasping the edges of the desk to stop herself from flying over it. “You will answer my question now or you will pack your things and get out today.”

Wide-eyed terror supplanted his smirk and he shot to his feet, understanding glimmering in his golden eyes as he realized he was dealing with a tigress protecting her cubs. “Oui, I mean yes, my lady.” He glanced from her face to the door, as if gauging the amount of time he’d need to reach it.

“Why?”

“I go to talk to a girl oo work for Aystink. Ay-sting.” He stopped and frowned. His jerky and laborious speech reminded Daphne that Hugh was always nagging the younger man to speak English.

“Je veux que vous parliez français,” she ordered.

His muscular shoulders sagged. “Thank you, my lady. My English is not so good,” he admitted, answering her in his own language.

“Answer the question,” she repeated in French.

“I never left the boys alone. They came with me and my friend to the kitchen and had something to eat, with some coffee.” He shuddered to communicate his feelings on English coffee. “I brought her some real coffee the second time,” he confided, momentarily distracted.

Daphne crossed her arms and he hurried on. “I only went three or four times and we didn’t see Aye—” He stopped and grimaced. “Aye—Ayestink.” He threw up his hands. “I cannot say that name.”

“Hastings, yes, I understand.” Daphne forced the words through clenched jaws. “Go on.”

“We didn’t see him until the third visit. He told me the boys were his nephews.” Martín shrugged. “So I thought nothing was wrong, eh? He asked me to return today because he had gifts for them. I did so and he gave them the swords and we all ate some cake—with good coffee this time—and then we left.” He raised his brows, his golden eyes hopeful.

“That is all—just the two times?”

“Oui.”

Daphne heaved a sigh and sat, motioning for him to do the same. He sat, but his posture remained as tense as a hare’s.