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"Oh. All right then." He had spun halfway back toward the hall when Aidan's hand stopped him.
"Don't be melodramatic, Edward." His dry voice was a direct contrast to his brother's. "Of course Jude can stay. Now, what seems to be the latest crisis?"
Edward shook his head. "You don't understand. This is serious. And a very private matter."
"Don't tell me you've fallen in love with the upstairs maid?"
The baroness finally roused herself. "Aidan! Don't be disrespectful." She cocked her head toward Jude, and he offered her a small bow while she studied him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bertrand, but you'll have to ..." She stopped and frowned. "Then again, perhaps Mr. Bertrand could be of use to us. He does bring a certain ... perspective."
Jude raised his eyebrows at that, wondering what she could mean.
"Yes!" the cousin exclaimed. "His mother!"
Ah. Jude nodded. His mother. Had Edward gotten a mistress pregnant? "If l can assist you in some way, I'd be happy to. And I was raised from the cradle not to tell tales, of course."
But Edward was shaking his head. "The matter is too sensitive." He tossed a glare in his mother's direction. "As you well know."
Aidan shook his head and crossed the room to the brandy decanter. "This is ridiculous. I'd trust Jude with my life. If he can help you, just spit it out, old man." He collapsed into a chair, so Jude wandered toward the sideboard and poured himself a drink as well. He should have excused himself', but he was more than a little curious now.
He supposed Edward's whisper was meant to be discreet, but it easily filled the whole room. "It's about our sister!" he hissed.
Jude froze and spun back to face the York family. "Marissa?" he asked.
All eyes turned toward him.
"Ah ... I mean Miss York, of course."
When Aidan rose to his feet, the attention in the room shifted to him. "What about Marissa?" His mouth had stiffened to a thin line.
"Now Aidan." his mother said.
"What about Marissa?" Aidan shouted.
Edward took a deep breath and quietly said, "She's been ruined."
Silence fell over the room. Everyone held their breath and watched as the tips of Aidan's ears turned red. Not a good sign.
The baron held up both hands. "The damage is done. We need to find her a husband, and quickly. Perhaps Jude can help—"
"Who was it?" Aidan ground out. "Was she hurt?"
Jude stepped forward, serious now, but Edward was already shaking his head.
"No, she was drunk. And foolish. But not hurt. And the so-called gentleman is gone now."
”Who?” Aidan bellowed.
Edward winced and swallowed hard. "Peter White."
A flurry of muttered threats erupted from Aidan, and then the whole story was told in ills and starts, while Jude listened and thought ugly thoughts about Mr. White. A pretty, arrogant fellow. And apparently a scoundrel. "Cowardly ass," Jude muttered
while Edward explained why Marissa could not marry Mr. White.
"But," Edward rushed on, "she must marry somebody. The servants are talking already. And if that fellow has planted his seed ..."
The baroness's hands fluttered. "This is horrible. Impossible. What if Mr. White insists? It would be his child, after all."
Harry shook his head. "I can feel no sympathy for him there. He had a child by the carriage maker's daughter, and he harbors no tender feelings toward that babe. Cannot even be bothered to set up an income." Harry looked stricken at his own words. "I'm sorry. I should have known he could come to no good. I shouldn't have invited him."
