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Chapter Four
“Ishould find myself a new wife.” Bertram stared at the ceiling, feeling less than rested after the night he’d spent tossing and turning, unable to get the baker out of his thoughts. “It’s time.”
His mind went to the Countess of Perrin, whose husband had died nary a week after they were wed, leaving her a vast fortune but no heirs. As a result, it was said that the late Earl’s cousin was lobbying daily to have her shift from Perrin Manor in order that he might take it over. The Countess, in turn, had then come to Bertram with a proposal—his son was in need of a mother and she was in need of protection.
“What a splendid match we would make,” she had said.
Bertram had been amused at the time but was certainly not feeling any urgent need for a wife when he had a perfectly good nanny. But now, seeing his reaction to the baker, perhaps it was time for him to think seriously about settling down again.
One thing he had come to see from his son’s interactions with Letty was that George needed a constant authority figure in his life and Bertram could not provide that at the moment. He could either allow his son to be led astray by coquettes such as Letty or he could get his son a real mother.
He sat up, resolving to have a dinner party before he left. He could invite the Countess as well as a few other guests and then find a moment alone with which to apprise her of his change of heart.
He nodded. “Yes, that is what I shall do.”
Bertram got out of bed, resolute and determined not to let Letty play any more mind games with him.
“Papa!” the door flew open and George came in. “You’re still here.” He climbed on the bed and began jumping up and down like a monkey. Bertram watched him, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “Aren’t you too old to be jumping on beds, my lad?”
“I am five.” George showed him all five of his fingers in case Bertram had any doubt he could count.
“That’s very good, George. Now, why are you here even earlier than my valet?”
As if on cue, his valet, Tom, stepped into the room with two steaming pails of water. “Good morning Your Grace. Are you ready for your ablutions?”
“Indeed I am.” He sat smartly in the chair, while the diminutive red-headed man arranged all his shaving implements. The hot water was placed beside the fire so as to ensure it did not cool. He emptied a sufficient amount in the shallow basin to use to soap Bertram’s face and shave him, after which he would let the Duke have a nice soak in the tub before returning to dress him.
As Tom shaved him, Bertram closed his eyes and allowed his son’s chattering to wash over him like a soothing balm. He well knew what he was missing when he went away to campaign but nothing brought that home to him more than this—a peaceful morning, the sun rising, and his son chatting happily to him. Yet that was the very same reason why he fought—in order that his son might pass every morning like this, free of the threat of war with Napoleon.
In the normal course of events, a man of the Duke’s stature, wealth, and influence would not be out in the front lines but seeing as his home practically bordered the English Channel and he had no brothers to send, he was forced to defend what was his from imminent threat. He felt strongly that it was his duty to do so to the best of his abilities.
The maid came in to collect his chamber pot and dirty sheets and that reminded him of his encounter the night before with Letty.
The little minx. She never did tell me where she was coming from.
He didn’t know if it was because they hadbothbeen distracted by the other’s nearness or if it was one of her games. All he knew for sure was that he could not trust her and he did not like how close she had become with his offspring.
He opened his mouth to ask George why he was so enamored of her but Tom made a quelling sound. “I don’t want to cut you, Your Grace. Please keep still.”
Bertram did as he was told, resolving that he would get to the bottom of the mystery that was Jacqueline Letty Strange before the day was out.
“Papa?” George’s head appeared in his line of sight. “I’m going to see if breakfast is ready. Will you eat with me?”
“Of course,” Bertram said without moving his jaw. “If you wait for me.”
George looked torn. No doubt the baker had promised him some delicacy to tempt his breakfast palate. Fresh-baked bread? Honey cakes? A pie perhaps? Whatever it was, George was clearly impatient to get to it. In the end, the food won out. “I’ll save you some, Papa,” George said before running out of the room.
Bertram ground his teeth together, vowing that he would remove Letty’s malignant influence from his life as soon as possible.
* * *
Letty had fresh bread with jam and butter waiting for the boy as he burst into the kitchen and gave her a huge smile. “Good morning, Letty!” he called and she could not help but smile back.
“Good morning, George. And how did you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you.” He took his place at the kitchen table and she set a plate in front of him, along with a tall glass of fresh milk.
“Mmm, this smells delicious, Letty. Thank you.”
