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“Yes, you need rest. A candle cannot burn at both ends, Edward.”

“I am sorry you have been brought into this. It was never my intention to let you get so…close.”

“I believe I am the one who has been forcing myself to be in your way.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you even look at all those books?”

She blushed a little, which only made her more beautiful. “I…may have skimmed a few.”

He had to laugh. “Why? What did you hope to get from me?”

“I do not know. I guess I wanted to know who you are. You are a hard man to read, and I confess I am a little intrigued by you.”

“Just a little?” he asked with a smirk.

“I see you are recovered. Off with you,” she said and pushed him forward. “I promise no one will know of this.”

He got up off the floor and helped her up. “I am in your debt.”

“No. I am in yours,” she said, still clutching his arms, no doubt to make sure his legs were sound again.

He kissed her softly before backing out of the room. “Good night, Rose.”

“Good night, Edward.”

Chapter Fifteen

They baptized Baby William George Ashton in St George’s Church that very Sunday. Marianne sat next to Lord Dunstan, and it felt strangely right. She had been out of sorts for days, but his mere presence soothed her. She had hated having words with her brother, but she was also heartily sick of biting her tongue. If nothing else, he knew exactly how she felt.

She had need then to explain to Lord Dunstan the issue in which the whole scenario had come about. He had been suitably shocked, saying only that her brother was a man of many layers. Even naked as a babe, she doubted he could truly be the man of integrity he had once been. At least not to her.

Her mother had wept, of course. She wanted all her children to be on good terms, but some things were too much to bear. Only those family members in London were in attendance. Afterwards, the family, except Edward, made their way to the small private garden to which Charles and Gabrielle had a key. Picnic blankets, low chairs, and cushions had been arranged under a large gazebo. Baskets and baskets of food and wine were there, and servants served punch for the children.

Seeing her nieces and nephews running and playing was Marianne’s favorite thing to do.

“I remember when my brother was this age. If he had a stick or a ball, he was happy. Not unlike Bart, actually,” Lord Dunstan said.

Marianne laughed. “What is your brother’s name?”

“Cornelias.”

“Goodness, is it a family name?”

“No, thankfully. He prefers to be called Elias in any case. He told me he is sure our parents had imbibed too much claret when deciding his name, but mine is far worse, so goodness knows what they were drinking when they decided my name.”

“I like Phineas.”

“You do? Are you quite all right? Should I fetch some punch to clear your head?”

“Oh,” she laughed. “Perhaps I do.” Once she started, she could not stop, and soon he laughed too. She liked this man, but she was still unsure if she was getting Phineas the earl or the spy playing a role. “Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Spying,” she whispered.

“I would be lying if I said no. There were some aspects of it I loved, but once my uncle died and I knew it was over, I was…relieved.”

“I do not want you to fear my brother. I am sure he has been redirecting suitors away from me for years with his overbearing ways.”