Lyn Stone Read online

  She trusted Duquesne. He had exhibited no signs of madness on the way from London. Even when the pistol had discharged and grazed him accidentally, he had taken it all in stride. He had not attacked Clive when the man had practically asked for it. Every move and every suggestion Guy had made was logical and showed good sense. Indeed, he seemed in perfect control of his actions and his emotions.

  His killing those cutthroats on the streets of London troubled her, but in retrospect, he’d been left with no choice. It was the way he had done it, with seemingly no effort at all and without showing a jot of remorse afterward that bothered her.

  Jonathan would never have been able to do such a thing, even if it had meant both of them dying there on the street. He had been all that was proper, conservative and above reproach. Lily quickly decided she appreciated Guy’s abilities more than she worried about his methods.

  Guy had seemed Jonathan’s antithesis at first meeting. He could be decidedly improper and in no way a traditionalist. In fact, he was notorious. But honor, duty and strength of purpose seemed to mean everything to him. Jonathan had espoused those virtues. Guy lived them with a roughness that shocked her. She recognized the key differences between her husbands even this early on—their respective attitudes toward the regard of their peers and their inherently opposite personalities. Guy had a passion for life that Lily had only recently discovered she shared. Perhaps that should frighten her, but instead it buoyed her courage.

  His word, she reminded herself. Guy had given his word Beau would be safe. And she had to trust someone. At least her new husband possessed the where-withal to act in defense if need be. And he had no cause whatsoever to harm her son.

  At the moment she could not summon any reason not to take Guy at his word. He could be so kind when the occasion called for it. The memory of his lips on her brow melded with a much earlier one of his soothing her as an injured child. That warmed her clear down to her bones and reassured her that she had chosen well.

  She recalled how calming he could be when her world seemed upside down, and how he had held her so comfortably when she was unable to ride another mile. And who else had ever caused her to laugh when there was so little occasion for mirth?

  Lily drifted into dreams, smiling at his silly jest about wearing frills, wondering just what kind of nightgown he really would wear. Or if he would wear one at all.

  “Age quod agis…Age quod agis…Age quod agis.”

  Guy heard the high clear voice of Lily’s son repeating the Latin phrase, each time emphasizing a different syllable. Then the strong young voice dropped to a mutter. “Ballocks.”

  Time to interrupt lessons. The boy might not have bitten off more than he could chew, but Latin obviously put a bitter taste—and also inappropriate English words—in his mouth.

  “Good morning again,” Guy said as he entered the nursery where lessons were going on. Or were they? “Where is your nurse?” he asked the boy, surprised that a boy left to his own devices would still be attending to studies. Any lad worth his salt would be seriously slacking off.

  “Grandmother ordered her to assist with upacking. And she’s not a nurse! She’s a governer-ess.” Beau’s lips, so like Lily’s, pushed out in a pout. He was a handsome little rascal, even when piqued.

  “She assigns you your studies?” Guy asked.

  The boy squirmed for only a second before answering. “Mother does that. Mrs. Prine sits with me to do them.” He frowned even harder. “Unless Grandmother takes her away.”

  “Your grandmother was up here just now?”

  The boy nodded. “I am to master two phrases before I am allowed to leave the room.” He thumped the book with his knuckles and sighed. “Grandmother might test me.”

  “Age quod agis,” Guy said, nodding. “Attend to what you are about. That’s a good ’un. What is the other you need to learn?”

  The little shoulders slumped. “I am allowed to choose. Why should you care what I learn? You’re not my father.”

  “I know. In vino veritas,” Guy said solemnly.

  Beau cocked his head and parroted the phrase. “What does it mean?”

  “One forgets to lie when one is foxed.”

  The boy cocked his head, a sly look in his eyes. “Grandmother would cane me if I were impertinent.”

  “Over my dead body,” Guy assured him with a grin. “What is nine times seven?”

  “Sixty-three,” Beau answered without hesitation, his posture had improved. “I know the nines. And the tens are easy.”

  Guy stood then and slapped his hands against his thighs. “Excellent. So, what now that you have finished your work for the day?”

  “I wish to ride,” Beau ventured, obviously prepared for a negative reply.

  “I suppose you have a decent mount?” Guy asked, noting the boy already wore riding boots.

  “I do, sir. My mother says I have an excellent seat, too. I will go alone.”

  At seven? Guy could not believe Lily would allow that. Even Guy himself had not had free rein at that age. He did recall how eager he’d been for it, how ready, or so he’d thought at the time.

  Not that Lily treated Beau as though he were still a baby. Guy had noticed how she limited her displays of affection for her son to a light touch on the shoulder or a brief smile of reassurance. He remembered how his own mother had done the same when he’d begun to assert his independence. None of that tousling of hair or outright hugs or kiss on the cheek unless they were alone.

  Seeing the two of them together had brought memories flooding back, good times long forgotten in the bitterness of the intervening years. He had thought more about his early relationship with his father than he had for some time.

  Whether that was beneficial or not, Guy wasn’t certain. He did know that it made him too aware of all he had lost and dearly wish that somehow he could have it again; family, caring, someone to talk with when things went awry. How long had it been since he had needed that? He didn’t need it now, he told himself, but it would be nice to have.

  Well, he had family now, for good or ill. He might as well try to fulfill his role in it.

  He cleared his throat and looked out the window. “I’ll ride along, if you don’t mind, Bradshaw. There are a few matters we should discuss and the fresh air will do us both some good, I believe.”

  Beau grabbed his hat and quirt from the table by the door. “I will ask Mother to come, too.”

  “She is asleep.”

  “Is she sick?” Beau asked as he halted, his entire body tense, his voice reduced to a worried whisper.

  “Not at all, merely exhausted from all the excitement of the ride and then the arrival of your visitors.”

  “Then I shouldn’t leave her,” Beau said, his wish to ride obviously warring with his need to protect. How much did the boy know about what might be going on?

  “She is safe in her chamber with the door locked so no one will disturb her,” Guy promised. “Besides, we won’t need to go far.”

  The boy exhaled slowly and gave a nod. “Very well.” He marched out of the nursery, slapping the riding crop against his leg.

  Guy followed, not terribly excited about riding out after having ridden most of the night, but he needed to establish how he and the boy were to get on. Doing that while engaged in an activity Beau loved seemed a perfect opportunity.

  After Beau’s pony and one of the mares in the stables had been saddled, they galloped out across a field. Lily was right. The lad rode as if born to it.

  Only when the mounts tired did they rein in and dismount beside a small brook. “This is a beautiful place,” Guy commented.

  “It is mine. All of it,” Beau declared. A warning?

  “Lucky fellow. It looks prosperous.”

  “You aren’t to have the estate even if you are married to my mother.”

  Ah, so it was a warning. “I already have one, thank you. It borders yours,” Guy told the boy and pointed. “Just there, beyond those trees.”

 
; “Then why did you marry her?”

  Guy smiled and fiddled with a long blade of grass as he spoke. “She’s a lovely woman and I admire her very much. I have sworn to protect her and care for her.”

  “I am her son. I will protect her!” Beau argued.

  Guy shrugged. “You’re good with your fists then? And weapons, if it comes to that? I don’t mean to over-step, Bradshaw. I only thought to give you a bit of help until you are taller.”

  “Taller?” The boy scoffed. “Stronger and older, is what you mean.”

  Guy nodded, stripping the grass into shreds as he looked off into the distance. “Yes, that, too. And as you grow, I will teach you all I know, if you’d like.”

  Beau looked pensive. “What do you know?”

  Guy tossed the grass aside and wiped his hands on his breeches. “How to hold what is mine against all takers. Things a man needs to defend himself, his property, his people and his good name. Are you interested?”

  To his credit, the lad took his time considering the offer. Then he met Guy’s gaze directly as any adult. “Yes, but you must promise not to make me call you Father.”

  Guy’s widened his eyes as if shocked. “Why would I do that? You had a perfectly good father from what your mother tells me. I had thought instead we might be mates. I’ve never had a friend your age, even when I was your age.”

  “Neither have I,” Beau admitted. “Then you have no plans to send me away to school? I am seven now.”

  “Send you away?” Guy gasped, and pressed a palm to his chest as if horrified by the idea. In fact, he was. “I should say not, even if you insist!”

  “Grandmother said you would. She said so this morning when she came to the nursery. She warned me you’d ship me off straightaway.”

  So the old biddy already had begun a campaign to turn Beau against him. “My word on it, there is no chance of that happening. You are needed here. So shall we shake on it, Bradshaw?”

  “If you like, Duquesne.” They shook hands solemnly. “Now you must teach me to shoot.”

  Guy winced. “You mother won’t like that idea if I know her at all. Allow me a while to persuade her if you don’t mind.”

  Beau thought about that, tongue in cheek. “A little while then. Are you sure you can persuade her, Duquesne?”

  Guy answered in kind. “Given time I believe I might.” Another seven years or so, he figured. “Until then, I see no reason why we may not begin instruction in self-defense, do you?”

  Beau wriggled excitedly and a smile bloomed on his young features. “No reason at all!”

  “Then on your feet, man! This is as good a place as any to begin.”

  Lily woke to the sound of her son’s happy laughter. She smiled to herself, so delighted to hear it. What had him so tickled? Quickly she rose and donned her blue velvet robe over the chemise just as she heard the knock on her door.

  When she opened it, shock held her silent. Both Guy and Beau stood there covered in grass stains. Beau’s coat sleeve bore a wide slash of mud and his boots were even more scuffed than Guy’s.

  “We apologize for our appearance, madam, and are on our way to shed our dirt,” Guy explained with a wink. “But Bradshaw here wants to announce to you that he is newly proficient in the art of tumbling. Show her, old man.”

  Beau backed up and kicked out his right foot. Guy grabbed it and thrust upward, helping the boy to complete a perfect backward flip and land on his feet.

  Lily gasped.

  “Attacking!” Guy shouted, backing down the hall, then running at Beau with arms outstretched as if to scoop him up.

  At the last minute Beau threw himself forward and dropped to his knees, tripping Guy, who went sprawling over his head to land in a heap at the feet of her mother-in-law.

  “What is the meaning of this!” the woman screeched, leaping back to avoid Guy’s body.

  Lily watched her husband spring to his feet and run a hand through his hair. Then he sketched a rough bow. “Your pardon.”

  “I should think you would beg it, you ruffian! What have you done to my grandson?” She narrowed her eyes at Beau. “Young man, you go to your room this instant!”

  “Remain where you are, Beau,” Lily said quietly. “I will see to my son, madam. You will excuse us, please.”

  The dowager huffed, then turned with an imperious glare and marched off down the corridor. The three of them silently watched her go.

  Then Lily pointed emphatically to her own open door, addressing both Beau and Guy with a pointed stare.

  They exchanged a guilty wince and complied.

  As soon as she shut the door, boy and man collapsed in a fit of laughter, rolling like puppies on her carpet.

  “Cease this instant and explain yourselves,” she ordered. “What have you been doing?”

  Guy sobered immediately. “I regret if we upset you, love. I promise from here on out, Bradshaw and I will restrict our roughhousing to the out of doors.”

  “That is not the point,” Lily exclaimed.

  Beau ran to her and clasped her around the waist. “Mama, please don’t be angry. We’ve had such a rousing good time and you’re spoiling it.” He looked up at her with that liquid blue gaze of pleading and gave her his sweetest smile. “I have not played for ever so long.”

  Lily glanced heavenward and shook her head, throwing her arms up in defeat. “Go, then. Have a bath, the both of you.”

  Beau skipped off down the hall, whistling. Lily shook a finger at Guy. “You see that he doesn’t hurt himself. That appears to be an excellent way to break one’s neck.”

  Guy smiled at her. “Says a girl who insisted on climbing trees?”

  “And has the scar to remind her of the foolishness,” she retorted.

  Guy nodded, then shrugged. “Our lad gave a good account of himself, though. You have to admit it.”

  “And you, sir,” she replied, “give me headaches. I did not think to have two children to rear!”

  “If I am a boy for him now, he will become a man for me,” Guy explained.

  “You are supposed to be a father to him,” she argued, keeping her voice low.

  “In all but name, I will be. But he needs a friend more at the moment and I like to think I am becoming that.”

  Lily sighed and placed a hand on his chest, giving him a slight push. “I cannot pretend to understand you, Duquesne.”

  He shrugged and smiled sweetly. “No one does, but I’ve never minded.”

  She closed the door and leaned against it, almost as exhausted as she’d been when she’d lay down to sleep a while.

  What was she to do with this husband of hers? What an enigma he was. How many sides were there to this Viscount Duquesne and who was the real man inside?

  When the family gathered in the morning room for the noon meal, Lily was unsure what to expect, but she feared it would not be conducive to the digestion.

  Mrs. Carroll, the housekeeper, had placed a lovely arrangement of yellow roses on the sideboard and another on the table. The silver appeared newly polished and the linens pristine. Though much less formal than the dining room, Lily preferred the more intimate space when not entertaining. Her former mother-in-law obviously did not approve the choice. But when had she ever agreed with anything Lily did?

  Though still quite attractive, Bernadette’s frown aged her unnecessarily, Lily thought. In contrast, Clive’s oily smile did nothing whatsoever to enhance his appeal.

  Guy sat at the head of the table at her insistence after seating her at the opposite end, as was proper. Bernadette and Clive sat to either side.

  “Where is the boy?” Bernadette snapped.

  “He is having a tray in the nursery,” Lily explained.

  Bernadette grimaced. “How you indulge that child!”

  Lily looked down as she spread her napkin over her lap. “Beau is mine to indulge.” The last time Beau had attended a meal where Bernadette was present, the woman had criticized his every move at table and thoroughly spoiled his a
ppetite.

  Clive lifted his glass. “I suppose we should toast the bride and groom, Mother,” he drawled, his eyelids at half-mast. “Here’s to the future.” He sipped. “And to luck, whatever sort might befall you.”

  Bernadette harrumped. “A cursed union, to be sure.”

  “Cursed?” Guy asked pleasantly, leaning forward as if quite interested in her answer. “Cursed by whom?”

  “Mother…” Clive warned.

  At that moment the maid entered with the soup tureen and began to serve.

  Thankfully Bernadette refrained from answering. Lily supposed it was due to the rule of never discussing private affairs in the presence of the servants. Not that they didn’t know everything that went on.

  The remainder of the meal passed in silence except for the clink of the cutlery against porcelain. Guy shot her an occasional smile and wink. If he minded the tension in the room, he concealed it well.

  When they had finished, Bernadette excused herself and left, the silk skirts of her morning gown rustling like a rasp.

  Lily left, too, urging the men to remain and have their coffee. After that debacle of a luncheon, she hoped Guy would take charge and find some means to persuade Clive to leave Sylvana Hall and take his mother with him. If Guy did not, she felt she must.

  It was not as if they had nowhere else to go. There was the house in London, not the most prestigious address, but a decent one. There was also the dowager house that stood a mile away, again not what Bernadette had been used to when she was the baroness, or even after the old baron had died.

  The woman had always lived here at the Hall except for the years that Lily and Jonathan had been married. During that time, Clive and his mother had traveled the Continent, availing themselves of the hospitality of friends and distant relatives.

  Only now did Lily suspect that Jonathan had not wished them to reside here and most probably had forbidden it. Why would that be? she wondered. Had he suspected Clive was dangerous? No, surely she was imagining things, reading more into them than was there.

  Perhaps she would be wiser to allow Clive and his mother to remain at Sylvana Hall so she could keep him under close observation, as she’d first thought to do, but Lily was not certain she or Guy could tolerate the two.