So did Bella. How in the world had things gotten so bad with their brother? “Papa will sort it out,” she said, hoping her words were true.
She pushed out of her seat to head off for Clayworth House when her horrid cousin appeared just inside the doorway. His icy eyes made an uncomfortable shiver race down Bella’s spine.
“Cousin,” he clipped out, “we will have a word now.”
Heaven forbid he should ask nicely. Bella shook her head. “We’ll have to have it later, my lord. As it is, I am late for an appointment at my future sister’s home.”
* * *
The last personGreg expected to see wander into the sitting room was his golden-haired nephew Julian, the two-year-old Lord Bayhurst. But the toddler came racing over the threshold, holding a little wooden soldier in his pudgy hands. Despite himself, Greg smiled at the little baron.
“I bet your mother is looking for you.”
The little boy crossed the floor toward the settee where Greg sat, mumbling a jumble of words that made exactly no sense and then lifting his toy up for inspection.
“Yes, you have a solider,” Greg said. “Like Uncle Tristan and Uncle Russell.”
His nephew giggled and then climbed up onto the settee beside Greg. He muttered more gibberish, twisting and turning the little soldier this way and then that.
Greg wasn’t certain what to say to the boy, so he asked, “You like that little fellow, do you?”
“Yes!” Julian replied, a word that was unmistakable, unlike the rest of his words.
Greg nodded. “I know a story about a soldier. Do you want to hear it?”
His nephew’s eyes lit up and he scooted himself toward the back of the settee as he snuggled against Greg.
It wasn’t the same emphatic yes he’d blurted out a minute before, but Greg took the child’s actions to mean he would, indeed, like a story about a soldier. “Well, once upon a time there was a great general. A general is the most important, the bravest of all the soldiers. He gives orders to other soldiers and tells them what to do,” Greg explained.
His nephew nodded vigorously as though that made sense, but Greg doubted the little baron really understood.
He continued anyway, “This general was from Carthage, an ancient city at the top of Africa. His name was Hannibal and he was quite famous. And one time he took an entire army including elephants….” He cast the boy a sidelong glance. “Do you know what an elephant is?”
Julian shook his head.
“It’s a giant animal,” Greg told him, then gestured to the space around them. “As big as this room almost. And they have these long noses called trunks that nearly go down to the ground…”
His nephew’s eyes were round in surprise.
“Clearly, your mother needs to take you to the Royal Menagerie.”
“Perhaps you’ll join us when we go,” Cordie said from the threshold.
Greg glanced up at his sister. “Just telling him about Hannibal.”
“What a lovely story for a two year old,” Cordie teased as she stepped into the sitting room.
Greg shrugged slightly. “Well, he had a soldier. I’m not very good with children.”
“I beg to differ,” his sister said as she crossed the room and picked up her child. “He seems quite enthralled with your tales of elephants.” Then she glanced around the room. “Arabella hasn’t arrived yet?”
Greg shook his head. “Just now starting to worry about her.” Especially after Gillingham made that odd comment the night before about Bella needing a white knight to look after her.
“Be careful, Greg, or I’ll start believing you genuinely care for the girl.”
Greg snorted softly. “You’re the only one in Town who knows I don’t, not really.”
“Not really?” she asked, and those perceptive green eyes of hers bore into him.