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Joseph frowned. “I came to get some water from the well.”
Letty blinked at him, curious as to why he would be collecting water from an abandoned well while also being wary about his motives. “Yes, well, I need the bucket for a bit so if you would care to wait…”
The boy shrugged. “Very well. I’ll wait. You never told me your name though.” He fell into step beside her as she made her way back to the cottage.
“Did no one ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?”
His brow furrowed as he squinted up at her. “What cat?”
Letty huffed with laughter. “Never mind. Now stay out here and wait for me. You cannot watch a lady perform her ablutions.”
Joseph obligingly stopped at the door and she went in to wash her face and give herself a makeshift bath.
I cannot stay here without risk of discovery.
She handed the bucket to Joseph before closing the door and trying to think how to proceed. She had her purse with her and she could travel incognito to the rendezvous where a smuggler would take her across the Channel.
But how will I know if the Duke and his son are all right?
Even as she frowned in annoyance, she knew that it was not her concern. She had warned the Duke and that was really all that she could do.
I have to get back and tell them about the Third Man. That is my duty.
She nodded resolutely as she decided to make her way through the downs and avoid the main road as much as she could. The Duke had said he would let her go but that was no guarantee that he would. She had to proceed with caution.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled her cloak tight and began to walk.
* * *
A rider returned later that day with a reply from the Duke of Wellington. Bertram was surprised at the swift response, his heart accelerating anxiously as he broke the seal in his study and read it.
Wellington was urging him to leave his home at once.
The boy will be in less danger if he is not sharing accommodations and rations with you. And we can better control the threat within the barracks.
Bertram sighed. He knew Wellington was right. If he was not here to poison, then George would be safe. Still, he decided that he would leave behind a taste-tester and a personal guard, just in case his absence was not enough incentive to leave his family alone.
He called in his valet. “Tom, pack my bag. We shall be leaving today.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The valet bowed and left. Bertram went in search of George. He had to tell the child not only that he was leaving but that he’d sent the baker away. He had heard already that the child had been asking for Letty and he was not looking forward to breaking the news that she was gone.
He walked upstairs to the nursery where he found George having his bath.
“Papa!” he crowed in cheerful surprise, his fingers flicking water on the floor as he raised his hands to wave.
Bertram smiled back. “I thought I’d come and help you with your bath today. Do you mind?”
He saw Mrs. Haversham flick him an anxious glance but ignored her.
“Yes!” George seemed most enthused and Bertram smiled, regretting that he had not done this more often.
He nodded to Mrs. Haversham. “I think George and I will be all right if you want to go and have a nightcap.”
She stood up uncertainly, wringing her wet hands. “Are you sure? I can—”
“No, no. Please don’t worry. We’ll be fine. You may go.”
The nanny backed out of the room, still casting worried glances back at them. Bertram smiled as he squatted down against the wooden tub squinting as George splashed at the water. Bertram took a cloth and soaped it, running it gently over his son’s rounded belly.
He reveled at the softness of his son’s skin, seeing the baby he had been with his chubby fingers, his hair hanging wetly over his forehead as he made happy sounds. Unlike most fathers, Bertram had quite a bit to do with his young child’s care—at least while Victoria was alive. Once she passed away, it had become painful to do the things they’d done together, alone.
But now, as he soaped his son’s tiny shoulders, he realized how much he’d missed, how he’d deprived himself and his son of the comfort of closeness and touch, in the name of thrusting away remembrance.
“Are you enjoying the water, George?” he asked softly.
“Yes!” George grinned up at him, “I like it when you wash me, Papa.”
“Oh yes? Me, too.” He pinched George’s cheek gently as he smiled, feeling lighter than he had since he’d told Letty to go away. “Me, too.”
