Chapter Three
Months later, after a day spent shopping on Bond Street, she returned to Rutherford Manor.
She entered the house, greeted the butler, Mr. Henry, and hurried up the staircase, anxious to see her son, Simon, who was two and a half.
When she approached the nursery door, she found Simon on the floor, playing with wooden toy soldiers that had once belonged to Graham, and tears pooled in her eyes.
He looked very much like his father, with brown hair and amber eyes.
He had the same smile, even at this young age.
She rubbed the ache in her heart for her son, who would never know his father.
Graham had his faults, one big one, but aside from that, he was a kind and generous man.
More than generous, in her way of thinking.
When Simon finally looked up, his eyes widened, and he smiled, then yelled, “Mama!”
Letitia dropped to her knees on the carpet and held out her arms for a hug. Simon, a sturdy, rambunctious boy, barreled into her, knocking her onto her back. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, and they giggled.
“My lady,” the governess, Mrs. Hartman, hurried to her side. “Let me help you. I keep telling Master Simon to be gentle with you and with all ladies.”
Letitia kept hugging Simon. “It’s fine, Mrs. Hartman. As long as he doesn’t knock anyone else over.”
Moments later, she let Simon go and rose to her feet. He went back to his soldiers, some of which were painted red and others blue.
“My goodness, I never expected to be out shopping for so long. How has he been?” she asked Mrs. Hartman, a forty-one-year-old widow with no children of her own, recently hired when Simon no longer needed a nursemaid.
Letitia believed it was time for a governess.
Someone strict, because Simon was a hellion.
A beautiful, happy, and loving hellion, but a hellion nonetheless, and he wasn’t even three years old yet.
“He’s been a fine boy, and we had a good day today. We read stories, he took a nap, we built a tower with blocks, and you can see he’s playing with his soldiers. The poor French don’t have a prayer against the English.”
Laughing, Letitia ran her hand through her son’s hair. “Sounds like you had a full day, Simon. Did you go outside for some fresh air?”
“Oh yes, I forgot,” Mrs. Hartman added. “We took a stroll through the gardens, sat on the bench, and went through our letters and numbers. Simon is very bright. He can almost recite the alphabet perfectly. That is, if I can get him to sit still long enough, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hartman. I don’t know what I would do without you. I rely on you so much when it comes to Simon.”
Mrs. Hartman’s eyes filled with tears, and she curtsied. “I should be thanking you for hiring me when my last charges grew too old to need me anymore.”
“Well, we are both grateful for each other.” She bent down and kissed the top of Simon’s little head. “Be a good boy for Mrs. Hartman.”
“Yes, Mama.”
After leaving the nursery, Letitia, feeling unsettled, wandered the halls.
It had been months since Clarice’s wedding.
The thoroughbred racing season was over, and most everyone was back in London for the little Season.
Everyone except the Duke and Duchess of Stanton, who were on their honeymoon on the Continent.
Not a day passed without her missing Clarice, prompting her to think of the Duchess of Blackstone and the Countess of Langford.
Tonight was the Brennan musicale. She had received a note from Emmeline, Duchess of Blackstone, stating that she and Lilly would be attending without their husbands and that they hoped to see her there.
She hadn’t seen them since the spring, when she’d traveled to Newmarket for the races and they had gone to their country estates for the summer.
Receiving Emmeline’s note pushed her into accepting the Brennans’ invitation. Because truth be told, she was lonely.
When she left for Newmarket, she had no clue how long she’d be gone from home. And to be honest, the two weeks spent there were full of adventure, intrigue, and danger. No danger to herself, but to Clarice and Stanton.
Added to that list of things that happened in Newmarket would be the close friendship she developed with Greyson.
Her stomach knotted. At least she believed they had formed a friendship with the understanding of more.
Perhaps she had misinterpreted the desire in his eyes and the smooth words he’d whispered to her during their private moments.
Had she been wrong about his intentions when he held her hand and stole a few kisses?
She blew out her breath. She had heard he’d returned to London in July.
Two months had passed, but she hadn’t heard from him.
Not that she had attended any social functions.
The thought of going alone didn’t interest her.
She was much too shy to venture out alone.
However, she thought he would have called upon her by now.
All the more reason to reconnect with Emmeline and Lilly. Yes, they were married, but she didn’t think their husbands would mind her going along to a ball, a soirée, or the theater with them.
Heading to her chambers and her desk, she sat down and pulled two sheets of her favorite stationery from the middle drawer.
She penned a note to each of them, welcoming them back to London and stating she would see them tonight at the Brennan musicale.
She sealed them with hot wax and stamped the Rutherford seal; she rang for her maid.
A few moments later, there was a knock on the door, and Jane entered.
“My lady.” Jane bobbed a curtsy.
Letitia stood and walked toward her, the muslin skirts of her sage-green walking dress swishing around her. “Please give these to one of the footmen. I would like them delivered immediately.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Alone once again, Letitia went to the chaise longue on the far side of her large bedchamber and collapsed onto it, stretching out with a pillow beneath her head. She closed her eyes and pictured Greyson’s handsome face just before she fell asleep.
*
Archibald Fitzroy, the Viscount Greyson, sat in his family’s drawing room, savoring tea with his sisters and their callers.
He would refer to the Earl of Warren as Aurora’s caller.
But when he thought of one of his best friends, Jacob Hunter, calling on Anastasia, he nearly spat out his tepid tea.
Hunter’s interest in Anastasia was something he never saw coming.
So here he sat in a chair, with Warren and Hunter flanking him in their own chairs, while his twin eighteen-year-old sisters faced them on the settee.
Both played perfect hostesses, pouring tea and handing out biscuits, all with smiles and twinkles in their identical green eyes.
The same eyes he saw staring back at him in the looking glass every day.
Greyson winced and swallowed a groan at something Hunter said, which made both his sisters giggle.
What the devil had gotten into Hunter? He had put on a charming demeanor; even his eyes were soft, dreamy, and full of desire.
Soft and dreamy were enough to make him want to gag, but desire tightened his insides.
Bloody hell, Hunter was a smooth-talking rakehell.
Surely he wouldn’t compromise Anastasia?
He reached over and poked his shoulder.
Hunter looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
Well, he just might have. Never in a million years had he imagined Hunter and Anastasia together. He shut his eyes and groaned. No. Not thinking about them that way.
At least when he watched Warren watch Aurora, he saw nothing but innocent smiles and looks.
Which made him think, what the hell was wrong with Warren?
Didn’t he want Aurora? He sighed and slouched in his chair.
Hunter was right. He had lost his mind. If only his father weren’t so sick and his mother would leave his bedside, even though his nurse was there, to take over the chaperoning duties.
A brother should not be chaperoning his beautiful sisters.
But he’d promised his mother he would do it.
She only trusted him with their safety and reputations.
Greyson knew what men thought and wanted regarding a lady.
Most of it revolved around getting them naked and in bed.
Hell, being naked and using a bed wasn’t even necessary when it came to compromising a lady.
If he wanted to keep his sisters’ reputations pristine, he’d better take his duties more seriously.
After forty-five minutes, Greyson cleared his throat and stood. “I believe, gentlemen, tea is over.”
After goodbyes were exchanged, Greyson stopped Hunter from leaving and said, “Can I have a word in private?”
Once again, Hunter looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Greyson made a promise to himself never to have daughters. The strain was giving him indigestion. How did mothers and fathers survive the Season until their daughters wed? He never wanted to find out.
He led Hunter to his father’s study, which he had taken over.
Not only had he taken over the study, but he was also managing everything pertaining to the earldom and his parents’ personal matters.
At least when he became the earl, he cringed at the thought because that meant his father would be dead, he would already know all there was to know, and the transition would be easy and fast.
“Sit,” he barked, turning to a table behind the desk and pouring brandy into two crystal glasses. He handed one to Hunter, sat in the chair beside him, turned it so he faced Hunter, and downed his drink in one swallow. “What the hell is going on between you and Anastasia?”
Hunter looked at him and smirked, then threw back his drink and set the empty glass on the desk. “I thought it was obvious when I sent her flowers and called on her today.”
Greyson glared at him, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as Hunter glared right back. “You are an arse. Why didn’t you ever tell me you were interested in Anastasia?”
He looked thoughtful. “Because I wasn’t really until recently. Not until we spent time together in Newmarket. I’ve tried to keep my distance for our friendship’s sake.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Except to stay away isn’t really fair to Anastasia or me if there are feelings there to explore.”
“What changed?”
Hunter exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. When we were in Newmarket, I really got to know her.” He exhaled. “I’ve known her since she was a little girl, but when I look at her now, I see the beautiful woman she has become.”
Greyson choked on nothing, and Hunter smacked him on the back. “Stop that,” Greyson croaked, shoving his arm away.
Hunter narrowed his eyes again. “I thought you were dying.”
“You would be happy if I died. Then you could do whatever you wanted with my sister.”
Hunter turned serious and looked offended. “You are out of your bloody mind. I would never want you dead. As for Lady Anastasia, you have my promise I will not compromise her.” He winked and grinned. “At least not completely until our wedding night.”
Greyson jumped up and dove for the brandy decanter, removed the top, and took a swig straight from it. “Christ, give a man a warning before you say something about marrying his sister.”
“Sorry.” Hunter picked up his empty glass and shook it. “I need more.”
“I need more if we’re going to discuss marriage.” Greyson splashed brandy into both their glasses.
Hunter gazed into the amber liquid. “I’m not ready to offer for her yet. Christ, I haven’t even kissed her yet.” He took a sip. “She’s a hard one to figure out.”
Greyson snorted. “Don’t I know it.”
“I can’t tell if she’s toying with me, flirting and enjoying my company until someone better comes along—someone with a title and more money than I.”
Greyson frowned at the insecurity he heard in his friend’s voice.
It was something he’d never heard before.
Hunter had always been confident around women.
He’d never heard Hunter express insecurity about not having a title or enough money.
As far as Greyson could tell, Hunter’s family was swimming in coin and had prosperous investments.
What Hunter must not realize was that many members of the peerage had titles and numerous estates, yet had very little viable coin.
“Anastasia does love to flirt,” Greyson agreed with Hunter’s earlier statement.
“She has an outgoing personality and enjoys being around people, both men and women. But I watched her carefully today, and when she thought you weren’t looking, her eyes drank you in.
She is more than enamored with you, and I’ll eat my hat if I’m wrong. ”
“Let me get this straight,” Hunter said with all seriousness, “not ten minutes ago, you were ready to go for my throat because I was interested in Anastasia. Now you’re essentially giving me your approval?”
Greyson crossed an ankle over his knee and chose his words carefully.
“She likes you. You like her. The rest is up to you both. I will say one thing. If you can’t keep your mouth and hands off her, be smart.
I don’t want to read about my sister in the scandal sheets.
And for the sake of our friendship, swear to me you won’t bed her unless you’re married. ”
For the first time since they had entered his father’s study, Hunter visibly relaxed. “You have my word.”
“Good. I’m thinking of going to Club Knight tonight after the musicale. I just received my membership approval.”
“I can’t believe you actually went through with the application.
Not that I know much about it, except what I heard whispered at Brooks’s.
I never would’ve told you about Club Knight if I’d known you would apply to join such a secret club.
One that costs a small fortune to join and is so selective, no less.
” Hunter sat up straighter. “You must tell me everything.”
“I’m forbidden from talking about it. Will you call on Anastasia again tomorrow?”
His friend chuckled. “You hate this, don’t you?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Just getting used to it. Truthfully, having you as a brother-in-law would be wonderful.”
“Thanks. When I do propose, she could turn me down.”
“She won’t,” Greyson said, hoping he was telling the truth. “I think I’ll get some work done.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll see yourself out?”
“Of course.” Hunter paused at the door. “I’ll see you at the musicale.”