CHAPTER2
Ethan had no notion of how long he stood in the drawing room staring down at the wriggling thing swaddled in the bassinet. He was vaguely aware of the housekeeper hovering somewhere behind him, and the cooing sounds the child made.
He is your problem now.
That cold, succinct note that had been etched in his mind had not revealed anything about the sender. Yet assessing the child, it was evident why the author thought Ethan’s home the perfect place to dump this particular problem. The child was the piercing image of Oscar Thornhill, Earl of Preston, his best friend since their days at Eton.
A best friend I killed.
Ethan closed a mental fist around that crippling thought with ruthless will, and squeezed it until the echoes of torment died away.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Mrs. Groves said, “A young lady is begging an audience.”
“I am not at home to callers, Mrs. Groves. I have not been for over two years.”
“I told the young miss, Your Grace, and she insisted it was an urgent matter, that something that belongs to her was left quite by accident on your doorstep and she is here to retrieve it.”
That arrested Ethan’s attention, and he shifted his regard from the child to his portly housekeeper. It seemed the second part of the game was about to unfold. He was but mildly stirred, and with a lift of his chin indicated the lady was to be shown inside. Ethan was still standing by the bassinet when the soft scent of lavender invaded his senses. He faced the intruder, ensuring that his body hid the baby from her view.
A sense of shock filled him to see the young, flushed face of the girl who entered his domain. Surely this chit was not a day over seventeen years. Then he noted the lushness and the gentle curves of her breasts, belly, and hips. She wore no bonnet, and her rich auburn hair was caught in a loose chignon with several tendrils framing her gently sloped cheekbones. The young girl was not a great beauty, but she was uncommonly pretty. Her bright blue gaze darted about the room, and there was an air of anxiousness about her.
“Who are you?” he mildly asked. “And why have you invaded my peace?” Finally, she looked at him, and then she just stopped, as if she had slammed into a wall. Her cheeks were rather flushed, and her eyes suspiciously bright.
Ethan reflexively closed his hand over the head of his cane, belatedly aware that his heart had taken on a peculiar thumping. A rhythm with which he was wholly unfamiliar.
The lady’s chin jutted. “I…I am the guardian of little Thomas. He is in the bassinet behind you, Your Grace. I have come to retrieve him. Please forgive the intrusion of having him left on your doorstep in such a manner. He was meant to be left on mine,” she said crisply, meeting his regard unflinchingly.
“I see.”
She held out her arms. “Yes. If you will hand him over to me, please. I will be on my way, and you’ll return to your peace.”
“No.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”
“As you said, he was left on my doorstep.”
For a moment she looked uncertain…vulnerable even, then she squared her shoulders and said, “I assure you, that was a mistake.”
He arched a brow. “Kellitch Hall sits on over fifty acres of land, and the closest neighbor is several miles away. It is a rather interesting mistake.”
She gripped the edges of her riding habit, her gloved finger tightly twisting the material. “Little Thomas is my nephew,” the girl said softly. “I have cared for him since his birth.”
“Yet his mother left him here,” he said smoothly, presuming it was she who had taken such drastic actions.
Wild grief flashed in the girl’s eyes, a look he recognized for he had been bound with the chains of grief and guilt for unending months.
“I cannot presume to understand what my sister thought to act in this manner. I do know, Your Grace, it was a mistake. A dreadful one. Please, hand him to me, and I implore you once again to forgive the intrusion in your day.”
“No.”
“No,” she parroted, a frown marring her brow. “I…what do you mean, Your Grace?”
“I will not hand him over, and you may leave.”
The young girl gasped, her hand fluttering to her throat as she stared at him with dawning horror. “You mean to keep Thomas?”
“Yes.”