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“My daft husband was too proud? Is that it?”
“Not exactly. At the time, he insisted he acted exactly as he should, that it was essentially a man’s prerogative. Since that time, if he is now struck by guilt, I would assume it is pride that stands in the way of him coming to see me.”
“So all he has to do to end this matter with you is simply apologize for his faithlessness?”
“That is correct.”
Sophia bit her lip. “May I ask a favor of you?”
The duchess appeared intrigued, tilting her head in agreement. “You may.”
“Before I do, perhaps I should tell you about some unusual events from the past few days and the heroics of my protector.”
CHAPTER20
Richard and Perry returned after several hours of tiresome introductions, endless cups of tea, and dainty biscuits, which they nibbled on to extend their visits and establish if any of the residents in the square were hosting the Hayward scoundrel. Alas, the venture had been to no avail.
Entering the vestibule of Balfour Terrace, they removed their coats, hats, and gloves to hand off to the footman in attendance before Perry mumbled something under his breath about needing the necessary, and Richard made his weary way to his study.
Pushing open the door, he was astonished to find the shorter John standing just inside. The older man had a raffish air, sporting a taped gash over his right temple. Richard swiveled his head to locate the man’s charge, Ethan, flinching in surprise at the sight that met his eyes. His nerves were too frayed to deal with any of it.
A nursemaid he did not recognize was holding an infant, bouncing the babe whose shock of familiar chestnut hair informed him that his cousin’s heir was present. The nursemaid’s low humming soothed her charge as she bobbed.
His own son’s nursemaid, Daisy, sat sipping a cup of tea in a seat tucked in the room’s corner while Ethan sat on the floor in front of a low table playing chess with his cousin, the large blond Viking of the Markham clan. It was a confounding scene of domesticated perfection.
“Halmesbury?”
The duke looked up from his position on the carpeting. “Just a moment, please.” He turned back to the table. Ethan’s little face screwed in concentration. He picked up a piece with his small hand and moved it, staring down at the board for several seconds, and then raised his head in triumph. “Checkmate!”
Halmesbury chuckled. “Well done, little cousin! I told you it would work!”
Ethan beamed before leaping to his feet and racing over to hug Richard’s legs. “I beat the duke, Papa!”
Richard reached down to swing his son into his arms. “Well done, Ethan. What say Daisy take you to celebrate with something from Cook in the kitchens?”
“I want to eat biscuits,” his boy proclaimed before squirming out of Richard’s arms to land on his feet when he lowered his son down.
Daisy and Ethan left hand in hand, the shorter John dedicated to shadowing their heels as he exited and shut the door behind them. Richard turned to find the duke seated in one of the plump armchairs by the fire, striking an imposing figure against the bottle green of the wallpaper that framed him.
“What the deuce are you doing here?”
“Sophia invited us. She said to meet her in the mews when you returned.”
Richard was lost. Halmesbury never visited his home. Sophia had never met the duke, so why would she invite him and his infant son over to visit? Was this some sort of visit for Ethan? He shook his head in confusion.
“Go find your wife, Saunton.” Philip’s steady gaze revealed nothing. As usual, his kinsman appeared wholly composed, providing no clues to his thoughts.
Ballocks, my cousin can be infuriating!
Richard turned and stomped out, heading down the passage. He let himself out into the garden and crossed over to enter the mews, where he found the taller John standing at the entrance.How the blazes did I think I would fool Sophia into thinking these rumpled guardsmen were actual footmen?She would need to be blind and stupid not to notice something amiss. He blamed his lack of sleep and stress for his miscalculation of not informing her he had hired additional security.
“Where is her ladyship?” he demanded of the man, vaguely noting the distant sound of men at work in the carriage house.
“Down near the end in one of the stalls, milord.”
Richard’s mood worsened as he looked at the dim interior to the right. What was his wife doing here, and why had he been summoned to see her? He regretted his promise not to drink. He needed one to wash the taste of conflicting tea blends from his mouth.
He stomped down the corridor toward the workrooms at the other end of the mews, where he heard a woman talking, stopping mid-sentence at the sound of his approaching footsteps. He forced himself to relax his face into more pleasant lines before walking into the stall to unearth what this summons to the stables could possibly mean.
