My Brown-Eyed Earl (29 page)

Will snorted. “You wouldn't have left the girls with a virtual stranger.”

“No, but I can't stand in judgment. I have little experience with children and no idea what it's like to be a mother.”

“Perhaps not,” he said. “And yet, I already know you'll be a wonderful mother. There's no comparison between you and Lila.”

Meg blinked at his off-hand remark, not because he assumed that she'd be a good mother, but because he assumed she'd be a mother at all. Which necessarily implied that she'd marry and not end up a spinster dependent on the generosity of a distant relative. So much had changed recently, and she hadn't had time to re-envision her future. But perhaps it
was
possible … just not with Will.

She and Will watched as Lila reached into her reticule and withdrew peppermint sticks, which she handed to the girls. “A treat for you.”

“Thank you!” Valerie climbed onto her mother's lap and snuggled against her chest.

Diana stared wide-eyed at her candy. “But … but it's not even our birthday.”

“No, darling,” Lila said, laughing. “It's only because I've missed you so.”

Cheering, Diana spun in circles, happier than Meg had ever seen her.

Will turned to the window, cursing under his breath.

“What's wrong?”

He hesitated for the space of several breaths. “She wants to take them home.”

Meg's heart sank. “For good?”

“Yes. She claims she's been giving the matter a lot of thought and that she's realized she can't live without them. She wants the girls back.”

Her throat constricted. “When?”

“Today.”

Meg pressed a hand to her belly. “
Today?
But it's so sudden. The girls—”

He discreetly squeezed her hand. “I told her I wanted a chance to discuss it with Diana and Valerie this evening, but that if they wished to go with her, I would allow it. Unless I send word otherwise, she plans to come back for them tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. She swayed, but Will steadied her with a hand at the small of her back. “Come, sit.”

“No, I'm fine,” she insisted.

Frowning, he said, “I asked Lila to let me be the one to tell the girls. Will you help me?”

“Of course.” Her head was still spinning, adjusting to the news. No more math problems or history lessons or bedtime stories. No more spontaneous, messy hugs.

“I must go out for a while, but I'd like you and the girls to join me for dinner tonight. We'll tell them then. Hopefully, we'll be able to see from their response whether this is the best course for them. If we have any misgivings, we can delay their departure.”

Departure. The word sounded so dismal, so final to her ears. “Yes, that's a fine idea. Diana and Valerie will be excited to dine with you.”

“And you,” he reminded her.

“Yes.”

“Watch Lila closely. I don't want her saying or doing anything to upset the twins.”

Meg nodded.

“I'll see you at dinner,” he said softly, “and again after the girls are asleep? There's much we have to discuss.”

“I'll see you at dinner,” she repeated. “And we'll see about after that.” She wanted nothing more than to spend the night with him, but she had to begin drawing some lines. On the other hand, if the twins left tomorrow, he would no longer need a governess.

This could well be her last night in Castleton House.

He scowled at her vague response, then leaned close to her ear. “I promise to make it worth your while, vixen,” he whispered, leaving her wobbly-kneed as he strode out of the drawing room.

*   *   *

Will's first stop was a modiste's shop teeming with women who pored over fabrics and design books. They parted like the Red Sea as he strode to the counter and addressed the startled shop owner. “I require a nightgown.”

“But of course,” she said in a predictable French accent. “What sort would you like? Linen or silk? Modest or revealing?”

All questions should be so easy. “Silk. Revealing.”

The woman shot him a knowing smile, adjusted her spectacles, and picked up a pen. “I'd be happy to place an order for you.”

“I'll need it by this evening,” he said.

She fumbled the pen and set it on the counter. “
Mon dieu
. Let me see what I can find for you,” she murmured, disappearing into a back room. The five minutes until her return seemed an eternity.

“Here we are,” she said, laying a swath of pale blue, shimmering fabric before him. “Satin trimmed in exquisite French lace. It will fit a woman of medium stature. I can assure you she will love it.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “As will you.”

“Send it to Miss Margaret Lacey at this address, please,” he said, producing his card.

“Shall I include a note with the nightgown?” the shopkeeper asked.

He shook his head. “She'll know who it's from.”

A half hour later, Will's coach rolled to a stop in front of Marina's flat. Before he'd even reached the door to her building, she emerged, once again wearing a black lace veil. She rushed past him and climbed into his coach, clearly hoping to avoid detection.

He hoped her precautions were in deference to her new beau and not because she feared the strange man who'd pressed her for information about the twins earlier, but the latest note she'd sent Will requesting a meeting had revealed little—only that she had a bit of information to share.

He instructed his driver to circle through the park and around town, then joined his ex-mistress in the coach, settling himself on the bench opposite her.

“Has there been a new development?” he asked.

Slowly and deliberately, she lifted her veil and placed it over her head. “It's nice to see you, too, Will.”

Damn it. “Forgive me. You're looking well, Marina. I'm sorry you've somehow become involved in this but grateful that you're keeping me informed. Did the strange gentleman approach you again?”

“My, my.” She clucked her tongue. “That was still not the most congenial of greetings. However, what you lack in charm you've always made up for in other ways.” She let her sultry gaze slide down his torso.

He had zero interest in flirtation. “You and your new beau are getting on well, I presume?”

“I'd say so.” She smiled like a cat. “He thinks he's died and gone to heaven. I must say, having a young man who's so very appreciative of my efforts is good for my confidence.”

It was probably good for her purse as well. Chuckling, he said, “I'm happy for you, Marina.”

“Now then,” she said, her tone turning businesslike, “I thought you should know that the gentleman from Vauxhall Gardens questioned me in my box at the opera last night.”

Jesus, that was bold. “What did he look like?”

“I'm afraid I didn't see,” she said, clearly vexed. “But I've no doubt it was him. He had the same gravelly voice. It was just after intermission. Philip had left the box in search of drinks. The lights went down for the start of the second act and the stranger slipped into our box. I sensed him behind me before he spoke. He pressed a cool blade to the side of my neck and ordered me not to turn around.”

A knife? Will clenched his fists. “Bastard.”

“Precisely,” she said coolly. “I told him that my escort would be returning soon. He seemed unconcerned.”

“He'd probably arranged for him to be detained in the lobby.”

“No doubt.” Marina sniffed. “He asked whether I'd learned anything else, and I said I had no idea what he was referring to. Then he pressed the blade a bit harder and asked what I knew about the twins … and your relationship with Margaret Lacey.”

Holy hell. “He asked about Meg?”

Marina arched a brow. “I said that as far as I knew, she was the twins' governess—nothing more.”

“How did he respond to that?”

“He said if I believed that, then I was as blind as the rest of the ton. Only, he said it a bit more colorfully.”

What kind of miscreant threatened and insulted a woman? “When I discover who this coward is, he will pay for his deeds, I promise you. Did he give you any clue as to his identity?”

She shook her head and stared out the coach window, watching the trees slide by. “I asked if he had an address where I could contact him, should I learn anything more, but he snickered and said that wouldn't be necessary. A second later, he was gone.”

Will scrubbed his chin in frustration. He had to be missing something. “What did Philip say when he returned?”

“Nothing. I asked what kept him so long, and he said a nice gent offered him a cigar.” She gave an elegant shrug. “I didn't tell him about the incident, but pleaded a headache and asked him to take me home.”

“I think you should tell the authorities, Marina. I'm concerned for your safety.”

She gave a husky laugh. “Please, Will. It's not the first time I've been held at knifepoint, and it probably won't be the last. I'm accustomed to living on the edges of society. I know how to take care of myself. Involving the authorities would only invite more trouble.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Fine, leave them out of it if you wish. But know this: I will find out who the scoundrel is … and I will exact revenge. He won't bother you, the twins, or Meg, ever again.”

 

Chapter
THIRTY-TWO

 

The twins sat on either side of Will, with only their shoulders and heads visible above the massive dining room table. Before they'd come down to dinner, Meg had reminded them of proper table manners. Now, they stared at their soup bowls, virtually paralyzed, as though they feared one false move would result in their permanent banishment from the dining room.

Oblivious, Will dove into his soup with gusto. Meg cleared her throat and made a great show of picking up her spoon and sipping her broth, hoping the girls would follow suit. Nodding bravely, Valerie lifted her spoon and dared to take a dainty sip. Meg smiled approvingly.

Diana shrugged and attempted it as well, only there was nothing dainty about the sound she made—
slurp
.

Meg cringed and Valerie gasped.

From his post near the buffet, Gibson closed his eyes, horrified.

Will raised a dark brow and glared at Diana. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Sir?” Her spoon slipped from her trembling fingers and plunked into the bowl.

“Listen to this,” Will said. He raised his spoon to his lips and slurped twice as loud. “
That
is how it is done.”

Diana bounced in her chair. “May I try again?”

“Please,” Will replied. “And do try to make it respectable this time.”

Her blue eyes twinkling, she pursed her lips like a fish and slurped impressively.

“Not bad, Diana,” he said.

“Not bad? I was
magnificent
.”

“You'll improve with practice,” he teased.

“Oh, my turn?” asked Valerie.

Will nodded. “If you think you can manage it.”

She did, setting off a noisy slurping battle that drove poor Gibson from the room, his nostrils flared in disapproval.

The girls relaxed for the rest of the meal, responding politely to Will's inquiries about their studies and activities, but he avoided any mention of Lila's visit. They had been teary when they said their good-byes to their mother that afternoon but had seemed fine since—perhaps just a bit more subdued than usual. It was hard to know what they were feeling, but Meg guessed that seeing their mother made them miss home.

Even living like royalty in the earl's luxurious townhouse couldn't replace the comforts of home—something she knew better than anyone.

Diana caught a glimpse of herself in a silver tureen and preened. “Do you like our new dresses, sir?”

Will shot Meg a grin before replying. “I do. You and your sister look very grown-up.”

“We do?” Valerie sat up, her spine straight as a rod. “How old do I look?”

He rubbed his chin, as though the question merited great thought. “Nine, at least.”

Both girls clapped gleefully at first, then Diana's face fell. “Miss Lacey had a beautiful dress, too.”

Will's fork froze in mid-air. “Did she?”

Valerie nodded. “She looked like a princess in it, and she was going to wear it to the dinner party, but—”

“But I ruined it,” Diana admitted.

“It was an accident,” Meg added quickly. “These things happen.”

“It was a tragedy,” Diana said solemnly.

“Miss Lacey tried to fix it, but there was nothing that could be done.” Valerie shook her head. “When I see it hanging in Miss Lacey's room, all brown and twisted, it makes me so sad.”

Will nodded in empathy. “I can understand why.”

As Meg watched him conversing easily with the girls, a wave of longing rushed over her. Something in his manner with them touched her deeply. He was attentive without being condescending; genuine without being overly sentimental. And he was truly enjoying them—almost as much as they enjoyed him.

Dear heavens. He would make a wonderful father.

“Do you want to know what I think?” he asked, eyes gleaming.

The girls' heads bobbed in the affirmative. Meg fanned herself with her napkin.

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “A special dress like that should not hang about making people sad. It deserves a send-off—a proper good-bye.”

Meg blinked. “What do you mean?”

“We need to arrange a funeral.”

*   *   *

An hour later, the four of them were assembled in the nursery. The twins wore veils that were actually lace handkerchiefs that Meg had pinned to their blond curls. Charlotte's poor gown was folded into a pitiful splotchy brown bundle and tied up with a pretty white bow that had once been the sash. It rested atop a velvet pillow that Will placed on a desk in the center of the room, and they all joined hands to form a circle around it.