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Killing both of them.
“Stop brooding, young man.” Aunt Mary pulled him out of his meandering. “Your wife was a harlot and your brother a cad. Put them behind you and think about your son.”
Grayson ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah, yes. Michael.”
“A sweet boy who I rarely see.” She scowled at him and took another sip of tea.
Grayson grinned. “You would frighten him into nightmares.”
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “What is happening with Peter’s widow and her foolish claim against the boy?”
He knew Aunt Mary would bring that up as well. “Nothing right now. My solicitor says she has no chance of succeeding in having Michael declared incompetent and having her son, David, step up as my heir presumptive.”
“Another reason to marry again, Grayson. If you produce another son, her claim would make no difference. Even if she succeeded in having Michael declared incompetent, another son would nullify her claim.”
Marry again.
What, at one time, had been an idea easily dismissed, now did not seem so horrible. Perhaps Addie had something to do with that. Truth be told, she had quite a bit to do with this change in thought.
He could see himself married to her. They could have a pleasant relationship with respect and fondness.
Addressing his aunt’s statement, he said, “I feel sorry for Beatrice. She was as much a victim of Peter and Margaret’s treachery as was I.”
“Bah!” She thumped her cane with relish. “You are too kind. Being betrayed by her husband has no connection to trying to strip a little boy of his future by declaring him incompetent. If anyone is incompetent it’s that dimwitted son of hers.”
Grayson’s nephew, David Hartley, was a spoiled, incorrigible lad who, at only ten years had already been sent down from Harrow for disciplinary reasons, after he practically killed another student in a fight.
“Go get yourself married, Grayson. Get your wife with child and produce another son. That will end her nonsense and make you a happier man.”
When he remained silent, she added, “And your son a happier lad.”
Chapter Nine
The day of their meeting with a member of the organization who they hoped would help Michael, had arrived.
Addie didn’t understand why she was so nervous, but her palms were damp, and she kept patting her upper lip with her handkerchief as Grayson’s carriage made its way through the streets of London to the home of Mr. Gerard Simmons who lived outside of Mayfair.
Grayson appeared as tense as she felt. He kept adjusting his ascot and clearing his throat. Mrs. Banfield and Michael appeared oblivious to the entire matter with both of them sitting and staring out the window. Michael crawled over Mrs. Banfield and cuddled on Addie’s lap.
In such a short time, she had already grown to love the little boy. He had Grayson’s eyes, hair, and strong jaw. He would be a handsome man one day. The intelligence and curiosity in his eyes told her he had a very good chance of making a successful life for himself, despite his deafness.
They pulled up to a lovely townhouse, which had a white door with black trim. A metal snake’s head sat in the middle of the door, with a knocker attached. Grayson helped her and Mrs. Banfield out of the coach and took Addie’s elbow. Mrs. Banfield held Michael’s hand.
They started up the steps but didn’t get far when the front door opened. A stately looking man, wearing the household livery, opened the door. He was probably somewhere in his fifties and from the looks of his form, he didn’t miss many meals.
His face was pleasant, and he smiled as they entered. “Good afternoon. Mr. Simmons awaits you all in the drawing room. If you will follow me.” He proceeded to lead them down the corridor past two closed doors. At the third door, he paused and gave a slight knock before sliding the pocket door opened.
“Sir, your guests have arrived.”
Mr. Simmons rose from the chair he occupied behind a very large desk where several books were spread open. He was a pleasant man, much younger than Addie would have guessed.
His dark blond hair was mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it many times. He had deep brown eyes, and a slight scar on his upper lip. His frame was sturdy, but slender. When he smiled, slight wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes and alongside his mouth which told Addie he smiled a great deal,
His demeanor immediately relaxed her.
He rounded the desk and approached them. “I assume you are Miss Mallory?” He took her extended hand, gave it a slight squeeze, then turned to Mrs. Banfield. “Mrs. Banfield?”’
She blushed and nodded. Next, he shook Grayson’s hand, and then turned his attention to Michael. He squatted in front of him and looked him in the eye. “Hello.”
