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Actually, it had been a nasty flesh wound that had laid him up for three weeks. If Graeme hadn’t twisted aside at the last moment, that knife would have sliced through his kidney and God only knew what else.
Still, there was now one less monster prowling the streets of London.
“My sister was quite fashed as I recall,” Aden tartly replied. “I thought she and your grandfather were going to flay me alive for that incident.”
“My family knows I’m exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to do.”
Aden’s dark gaze turned hawk-like. “But are you? Really?”
Graeme was spared an uncomfortable reply when Vivien sailed into the room, holding the hand of Maggie, her six-year-old daughter. When the bairn saw him, she screeched with joy and threw herself into his arms.
“Hullo, lassie,” he said, hoisting her onto his lap. “How are ye this grand mornin’? Yer lookin’ as pretty as the May queen.”
She giggled at his brogue, which he always adopted to tease her.
Margaret Edwina St. George was a miniature of her mother. Blond and blue-eyed, she had a sweet, snub-nosed countenance. Thankfully, she was also good-natured, since everyone, especially her papa, spoiled her rotten.
Right now, however, Papa was regarding her with a mixture of fondness and exasperation as Maggie patted Graeme’s cheeks.
“Uncle Graeme, you’re whiskery.”
“That’s because I’ve been up all night, hard at work.”
Maggie twisted in his lap to frown at her father. “Uncle Graeme was sick. You shouldn’t make him work so hard, Papa. It’s mean.”
Aden threw his wife an incredulous look. “Really?”
Vivien came over to lean against her husband’s chair. “She has a point.”
“I’m in capital shape, Vivi,” Graeme replied. “You know that better than anyone.”
When he’d recuperated in the St. George household, Vivien had cared for him with terrifying competence, shoving noxious potions down his throat and threatening him with dire consequences if he dared to get out of bed too soon. Much to his surprise, Graeme had enjoyed the fussing—not that he’d had much choice, given his condition.
Once he’d gotten over the worst of it, Maggie had been allowed into his room. There, she’d spent hours reading to him from her schoolroom primers, until Graeme had grown so desperate he’d begun teaching her to play piquet. Aden had been rather stormy about that, but Vivien had approved. Vivien was a terror at cards and was thrilled that her daughter had inherited her mathematical skills.
Maggie returned her little hand to Graeme’s cheek, turning his face back to hers. “Mamma and I have to take care of you. We promised Aunt Vicky and Uncle Nick.”
The child’s earnest gaze made Graeme’s chest go tight.
“I’m fine, sweet lass,” he said gruffly. “I promise.”
But when he caught the glance between Aden and Vivien, he swallowed an oath.
“I’mfine,” he said.
“No need to get testy, laddie boy,” Vivien replied.
“Laddie boy? I’m twenty-nine years old, Vivi.”
“Not too old for me to scold, and I certainly will if you need it.”
Graeme threw Aden a speaking glance.
His chief came to his rescue. “My love, as delightful as it is to see you and Maggie, Graeme and I are working.”
His wife heaved a sigh. “Maggie wanted to see her uncle. I couldn’t possibly say no.”
The little girl nodded. “I haven’t seen Uncle Graeme in days and days.”
