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At the near bellow, Rees’s quill scratched and splattered.

“Damn it to hell,” he muttered, blotting the ink with his cuff. Darby watched as Rees’s white cuff absorbed spreading blotches of black ink. “How does your valet get those stains out?”

“Haven’t a valet at the moment. The man quit in a fit of rage a few months ago, and I haven’t bothered to hire another. The housekeeper will buy some new shirts.” He finished tracing the notes that had been obscured by flying ink and began flapping the paper to dry it. “Now what are you shouting about?”

“What if Esme Rawlings isn’t really pregnant? What if she’s planning to fake a birth, and return with a baby she finds in Wiltshire? She could buy one without a problem. Bring him back and set him up as Miles’s heir.”

Rees’s thick eyebrows matched his mane of hair. Generally they scowled; now they looked skeptical. “It’s a possibility,” he grunted. “I suppose.”

“Why is she in the country else?” Darby insisted. “My aunt is the epitome of a London grande dame, for all she’s a Fool for Love

9

scandal-maker. It’s hard to imagine her away from the comforts of Gunther’s, not to mention her mantua-maker. Why is she rusticating in the country unless she’s running some sort of racket?”

Without waiting for Rees to answer, he strode to the other side of the room. “I never believed that story about Miles being in her room, never.”

“You said your uncle wanted an heir,” Rees pointed out.

“Why shouldn’t he have tried to get one on his wife, if she were willing? You don’t need to live with a woman to get an heir.”

“Miles wouldn’t have taken the risk. Dr. Rathborne himself told him to avoid bedroom activity or his heart would give out.”

“Well—”

“No,” Darby said. He swung around and faced his friend squarely. “Esme Rawlings is running a racket on my uncle’s estate. I’ll bet you two hundred pounds there’s naught more than a pile of feathers around her stomach.”

Rees eyed him. Then he said: “Hire a Runner. He’ll find out soon enough.”

“I’ll go to Wiltshire myself.” Darby’s eyes were glowing with all the pent-up rage he’d felt from the moment Gerard Bunge had minced into the study with his red-painted heels and unappetizing news. “I’ll shake the truth out of her. Hell, if the woman is increasing, I want to know who its father is. Even if I can’t prove it, I want to know the truth.”

“How will you explain your sudden appearance?” Rees asked.

“I had a note from her a few weeks ago about London air and its insalubrious effects on children. Josie and Anabel seemed well enough to me, so I ignored it. We shall all join her in the country.”

“Children aren’t the kind of thing you move around eas-10 Eloisa James

ily,” Rees objected. “For one thing, they come with a plaguey amount of servants, not to mention clothing and toys and the like.”

Darby shrugged. “I’ll buy another carriage and put the girls and their nurse in it. How difficult can that be?”

Rees stood up, tucking his now dry papers back into his breast pocket.

“Perhaps I can find myself a spouse in the wilds of Wiltshire,” Darby said moodily. “I can’t raise my sisters by myself.”

“I don’t know what is so difficult about raising children. Hire a nursemaid each. No need to saddle yourself with a wife.”

“The girls need a mother. The servants find Josie particularly difficult.”

Rees raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say my mother did much for me. I wouldn’t think that your mother had much to do with your raising either.”

“All right, they need a good mother,” Darby replied impatiently.

“Still not a sufficient reason to take a wife,” Rees said, leaving. “Well, best of luck with your aunt. What was that they call her? Infamous Esme, isn’t it?”

“She’ll be infamous after I’m finished with her,” Darby said grimly.

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