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He had given them food, money, a wet nurse, and enough assistance to ease the burden of their newborn. There had been no reason for them to abandon the cottage unless something had happened that he did not know about. He stepped outside again just as a neighboring tenant approached along the lane.

"Have you seen the Bell family who lived here?" James asked, turning toward the man.

The tenant removed his cap and nodded uneasily. "Aye, Your Grace. They left a few days ago," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

James frowned. "Did they say where they were going?" he asked, studying the man's face for any indication that he was withholding something.

"No, Your Grace," the man answered, shaking his head. "They left rather abruptly. I cannot say where they went."

James's concern sharpened. "Do you know when they will return?" he asked, his voice firmer now.

The tenant looked toward the empty cottage before slowly shaking his head. "I am not sure when they will return, Your Grace."

James held his gaze for another moment, then nodded. "Very well. Thank you for telling me," he said, offering the man a brief inclination of his head before returning to his horse.

As he mounted, James glanced once more at the abandoned cottage. Something was wrong. He could feel it, though he had no evidence to explain why. He urged his horse forward and began the journey back to Glenmore, his thoughts turning increasingly toward the family, the wet nurse, and the unsettling possibility that their sudden disappearance had nothing to do with coincidence.

The next day, James was seated behind his desk in the study when a servant appeared at the door and bowed.

"Your Grace, Viscount Delves has called upon you," the man announced.

James looked up from the estate accounts, immediately wondering what had brought his Uncle Hubert to Glenmore without warning.

"Send him in," he replied, closing the ledger before him.

A moment later, Hubert entered with his usual easy confidence, and James rose to greet him before gesturing toward the chairs. "Would you care for a drink?" James asked, moving toward the decanter. "Whisky?"

Hubert nodded as he settled into a chair. "That would do nicely."

"I was not expecting you today, Uncle. To what do I owe this pleasure," James said.

James poured two glasses, handed one to his uncle, and resumed his seat, unaware that Hubert's next words would put him considerably more on edge than any discussion of estate finances.

"I have come to see the future heir," Hubert announced, taking a sip.

James's hand stopped halfway toward his own glass. For several seconds, he simply stared at his uncle.

The future heir.

He knew precisely whom Hubert meant, of course, but hearing Felix described that way unsettled him. Felix was supposed to remain hidden until the appropriate moment, protected from questions and speculation until James could present him publicly as his legitimate son.

"You will have to wait," James said carefully, setting down his glass.

Hubert arched a brow. "Why? I already know about him. Should I not meet my future relation?" he asked, studying him.

James hesitated before admitting, "I shall have to speak to Olivia first." The words sounded strangely natural once spoken, which irritated him more than he cared to admit.

Hubert's eyebrow rose higher. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning back with an amused expression. "You are the man of the house, James. Why does it matter what your wife says?"

James felt a sharp flare of anger, and he had to remind himself that Hubert was merely stating the obvious rather than deliberately insulting Olivia.

"Because she is his mother now," James replied firmly, keeping his voice controlled. "Therefore, she has a say in it."

Hubert scoffed softly and lifted his glass. "I suppose."

James's jaw tightened.

His mother.