Chapter Seven #2
Bridget fell silent as she digested Nate’s words.
She hadn’t noticed anything different about Collins’s interaction with Edmund, and she wondered if Nate’s theory was prompted by something more personal.
He missed Henry; she knew as much. Perhaps his longing for his son had led him to jump to this new conclusion.
“Bridget?’ he said. “Do you understand what this means? If we can prove that Collins and Mrs. Groby have a long history together, then there is a very good chance that the two of them conspired to get rid of Groby.”
“It would certainly complicate things and raise a lot of questions,” Bridget said, her mind still on Henry and Lady Luxton. It was time to break the news to Nate. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was too excited about his new theory to let go of it.
“We shall have to do some digging into their pasts,” Nate said.
“But where would we start? In Collins’s hometown of York, I think,” he said, answering his own question.
“Someone there must know something. And haven’t there been rumors about Mrs. Groby’s past—I believe I heard something about Groby rescuing her from a cruel father or some such bad situation? ”
“Yes,” Bridget said. “People have always gossiped and speculated about why such a pretty young woman would marry a gruff old butcher like Groby.”
“Well, it’s a good question. Why do you think she married him?”
“I don’t know. I stay away from gossip, especially after Papa.”
“If this is all getting too much for you, I can—”
“No, it’s not that at all.” She worried her lower lip.
“Then what is it?” Nate said. “You seem…has something upset you?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.” She swallowed. “I didn’t come to town to visit Mrs. Groby. I came to find you.”
“But you had biscuits for the children,” he said.
“I know. I intended to visit Mrs. Groby, but I needed to find you first.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Nate said. “It was a most informative visit.”
“You don’t understand. Something happened before I came to find you,” Bridget said, the knot in her stomach growing. “Something you need to know about.”
Nate pulled on his gelding’s reins, and the horse slowed and then stopped. “I’m not following. What happened?”
Bridget stopped her mare and faced him. “A new guest arrived this morning—two guests, actually.”
Nate frowned. “Unexpected guests?”
“That’s right.” Bridget dropped her gaze to her gloved hands.
Suddenly, she felt deeply ashamed that she had not told Nate sooner.
She’d made the wrong decision. She had no right to make him wait to see his son.
And why had she waited? Was it because she wanted to keep him to herself just a little bit longer?
“Well, we have a few chambers available. You were able to accommodate them, I assume?”
Bridget nodded again, still without looking up.
“I don’t see a problem. Who are the guests?”
She lifted her gaze and met Nate’s deep blue eyes. “It’s Lady Luxton and Henry.”
*
Nate felt the color drain from his face. His former betrothed, Helen Morley, now Lady Luxton, had sworn never to let him see his son again, and it had crushed his heart. That had been eight months ago. Eight long months.
Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not Groby, Otis, or Collins. None of it mattered. He turned to Bridget. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Why did you make me wait…I don’t understand.”
“I meant to tell you. That’s why I came to find you in the first place.” Bridget looked visibly upset. “I just—well, after you told me about Collins, I thought it better to wait until after we visited Mrs. Groby.” She paused. “And…I was afraid to upset you.”
“Upset me?” Nate said. “How could I be upset?” He laughed. He was going to see his son again. And then a terrifying thought struck him. “What if she leaves before I get home?”
“She won’t. I showed them to their chambers.
She’s staying. You needn’t worry about that.
I just thought you’d want fair warning before you returned home.
I think she hoped to shock you with her sudden arrival—to demonstrate that she can snatch Henry away at will and bring him back whenever she wants. ”
“That’s because she can, and I have to take what I can get.”
“I know, but her arriving unannounced like that. It’s a reminder that she is in control and that you are at her mercy. It’s…cruel.”
Nate ran his hand through his hair. Bridget was right.
Of course, Helen wanted to control and manipulate him.
She couldn’t stand the fact that he no longer cared for her—not because she loved him, but for her own selfish need to be the center of everything.
Still, as long as she had Henry, she’d have his attention.
He ached to see the boy. How he must have grown during these months.
He wanted to spur his horse on and canter home, fall on his knees, and thank Helen for bringing Henry back.
Yet, if he showed Helen anything but remote coolness, she’d use the child to torment him forever.
Whatever he did, he had to avoid falling into one of Helen’s traps.
And Bridget’s warning had given him the ability to do just that.
“Thank you,” he said, turning to Bridget, and she rewarded him with a smile that warmed his heart.
*
When they returned to Villa De Lacey, Lady Luxton was in the drawing room with Lady Matheson and, to Bridget’s surprise, Rupert and Charlie. The four were playing a game of cards, and each sipped a glass of port.
Rupert and Charlie got to their feet as soon as Bridget and Nate entered the room.
“Miss De Lacey, Mr. Squires, I hope you don’t mind,” Rupert said. “We just thought we’d—”
“Oh, do sit down!” Lady Luxton said with a laugh. “You’re with us. We invited you. Mr. Squires doesn’t mind, does he?” She turned and gave Nate a dazzling smile.
Bridget could see the tension in Nate’s jawline as he steeled himself to deliver a cool response.
“Lady Luxton, how kind of you and Lord Luxton to visit us again.”
“Who said Lord Luxton is here? He is in Scotland.”
Nate gave her a tight smile and then turned to Rupert and Charlie. “Please sit down. You are most welcome here any time. I am so sorry for everything that has happened.”
Rupert nodded, and Charlie dropped his gaze to his feet. “Thank you,” Rupert said, and both young men sat down.
“Oh, don’t put on such long faces!” Lady Luxton said. “We were having so much fun. Let’s get back to it.”
Rupert picked up his hand of cards and gave Lady Luxton a weak smile. He nudged Charlie, who then followed suit. But Lady Matheson seemed to have lost her appetite for playing. She picked up her glass of port and wandered to the window, where she stood staring out at the field of yellow daffodils.
Lady Luxton suddenly put down her hand of cards and turned to Bridget. “I hope you don’t mind, Miss De Lacey, but my little Henry has kidnapped your mutt—what’s his name?”
“Bijou.” Bridget scanned the room, looking for her terrier. “Where are they?”
“Henry insisted the pup take a nap with him in his room. I didn’t like the idea at all.
Dirty little dog. But Henry kicked up such a fuss that I told Nanny to put the mutt on the floor in the corner of the room.
Under no circumstances, I said, must that beast go near Henry’s bed.
Henry is a viscount, you know. His health is imperative, especially as his father is… ” She glanced at Nate. “Well…”
“I’ll be more than happy to take Bijou from Henry’s room,” Bridget said icily.
“Oh no, let the mutt stay. If it pleases Henry…”
“I’m afraid I must insist. Bijou needs his walk. Henry is welcome to join us when he wakes up.”
“Oh, never mind us. I think we shall take a walk with Mr. Squires.” She turned to Nate. “Henry remembers you. He liked it when you played with his boat by the lake. Shall we take him again? Unless you prefer to go with Miss De Lacey and her mutt.”
Bridget’s chest boiled. She hated how Lady Luxton always managed to make her feel small, like she was a servant in her own home. And she hated even more how she used Henry to make Nate do her bidding.
“I should be honored to take the young viscount to the lake,” Nate said, and Bridget could not fault him for jumping at the chance to spend time with his son.
“Well, it’s settled then. I’m sure when Henry sees you, he’ll forget all about that little rat catcher.” She gave Bridget a smug smile and turned back to her cards. “It looks like Lady Matheson has forfeited her hand,” she said. “I believe it’s your turn to play, Rupert.”
Lady Matheson had not moved from the window and did not seem to register when her name was mentioned. She stood, squeezing her empty glass, with her eyes still fixed on the daffodils.