To Tempt A Rogue Page 2

  Nathaniel knew that once Robert’s will had been read and enacted, the financial responsibilities of the estate and the children, would fall to him. Yet the settling of his brother’s affairs had turned out to be a rather complex matter. Feeling too physically and emotionally spent to actively investigate, Nathaniel had decided instead to let the various solicitors involved sort out all the legalities.

  He was now very concerned that his initial lack of interest had put him at a grave disadvantage. Though he had asked his uncle repeatedly, Lord Bridwell did not seem at all inclined to relinquish the control he had established. In fact, actions such as dismissing the children’s governess illustrated that he was more secure in his position and doing everything possible to make it even stronger.

  Nathaniel had hoped to avoid seeing his uncle today, but it looked as if he must. It was imperative that the older man be reminded of Nathaniel’s keen interest in the welfare of Robert’s children and his determination to stay involved in their lives.

  “Do you know where Lord Bridwell is this afternoon?”

  Mrs. Hutchinson furrowed her brow. “He never leaves the house this time of day. After we delivered the tea to the nursery, Sanders brought a fresh decanter of whiskey to the study. I suspect his lordship is in there right now, enjoying it.”

  “Then I shall go to the study and have a word with my uncle,” Nathaniel replied grimly.

  Mrs. Hutchinson turned a questioning gaze on Lord Avery. “I was wondering . . . I mean . . . well, I had hoped that you, not Lord Bridwell, would take on the children.”

  Her comment brought a flush of guilt to Nathaniel’s face. As Robert had hovered near death, he had promised his brother he would care for them. “My uncle and I have not yet reached an agreement on the guardianship of the children, but I fully intend to pursue the matter.”

  “All I know is that those three little souls need you,” Mrs. Hutchinson declared solemnly.

  “That fact has become more evident each day, Mrs. Hutchinson, even though I’ll own that I know very little about raising children.”

  “You’ll manage it a lot better than Lord Bridwell,” Mrs. Hutchinson declared loyally. She patted his forearm reassuringly. “All you can do is your best, my lord.”

  She was right, of course. He would be a far preferable guardian than his uncle. Though nagging at Lord Avery’s brain was the ever-present worry. The children had suffered so much. Would his best be enough?

  He crossed the foyer and turned past the red drawing room, the gold sitting room, and the wood paneled library. Though it felt utterly ridiculous to be announced in one of his childhood homes, Nathaniel allowed the footman to call out his name before he entered the study.

  He found Lord Bridwell lounging in a large leather chair set by the fireplace, his cheek resting on his fist, his elbow propped on the chair arm. In his other hand he held a half empty whiskey glass and a smoldering cigarillo.

  He offered no greeting to his guest. Nathaniel ignored the slight and strode casually to the chair opposite his uncle’s. Lord Avery’s senses were on full alert. Growing up, he had seen very little of his father’s only brother, and what he had learned of his uncle’s character these past few weeks made the man even more of a mystery. And a danger.

  Nathaniel was aware that Lord Bridwell had been married, was childless and became a widower at a fairly early age. He had an eye for race horses, a nose for gambling, and a reputation as a first-class gentleman. Nearing sixty, he had retained his striking looks along with a trim build and a thick head of gray hair that gave him a distinguished, worldly air.

  “Good afternoon, sir.” Nathaniel broke the silence as he settled himself in the chair.

  “Avery.” Lord Bridwell eyed him critically. “What brings you here today?”

  “I’ve been visiting the children. As I do each afternoon.”

  Lord Bridwell made a sound of disgust. “There are clean glasses and whiskey on the sideboard. Help yourself. I suspect you could use a stiff drink.”

  “Thank you, no.” Though the idea of a strong whiskey sounded most appealing, Nathaniel refused to give his uncle the satisfaction. “I would like to discuss Miss Reynolds.”

  “Miss Reynolds? The pesky governess?” Lord Bridwell took a long pull of his cigarillo and blew a cloud of the pungent smoke in his nephew’s direction. “Her work was unsatisfactory. I dismissed her a few days ago.”

  Nathaniel lifted his brow. “It was my understanding that she took excellent care of her charges. Besides, the children were very fond of her.”

  “Well, I found her to be rude and untrustworthy.” Lord Bridwell shut his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “The household is running more smoothly without her.”

  “If you find caring for the children too taxing, uncle, I would be pleased to relieve you of that burden,” Nathaniel said casually.

  Lord Bridwell slowly lowered his arm and cast his nephew a veiled look of warning. “I thought we had finally settled this, Avery. You have no legal claim to their guardianship.”

  “My brother—”

  “I don’t give a damn about your brother or what he may or may not have said on his deathbed.” Lord Bridwell flung the cigarillo into the fireplace. “He was dying, out of his mind, delirious with fever. You cannot put stock in the ranting of a man overcome with such a dreadful illness. I am the eldest male relative. It is my duty to see to the welfare of this family.”

  With effort Nathaniel contained his furious roar of frustration. How dare his uncle speak of his brother in such cold, callous terms! “I too know of my duties, my responsibilities, and obligations to the family. Robert wanted me to care for his children.”

  “Then he should have stated his wishes in his last will and testament.”

  He did! Nathaniel knew a solicitor had been summoned and he knew changes had been made to Robert’s will, specifically to the guardianship of the children. Yet somehow this document could not be found.

  “We are reasonable men, uncle. I feel certain if we work together a reasonable solution can be found.”

  “There’s no need to play the gallant, unselfish gentleman with me, my boy.” Lord Bridwell leaned closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “You forget, I too am a second-born son. I know precisely how it feels to be left with little more than a minor title, a pitiful excuse for an estate, and a miserable allowance.

  “I am willing to be generous with the funds that are now at my disposal by doubling your current allowance. But only if you agree to cease interfering in matters that are none of your concern.”

  “The estate is to be held in trust until Gregory comes of age,” Nathaniel protested hotly.

  “Exactly.” Lord Bridwell took a long swallow of whiskey. “The substantial income and investments are the responsibility of whoever takes care of the brats.”

  “I do not want the money, uncle,” Nathaniel said rashly. “Just the care of the children.”

  Lord Bridwell stared at him in perplexity. “Well, you can take the girls if you are so hell-bent on playing the role of knight errant.” He took a final sip of his drink and regarded his nephew shrewdly over the rim of his whiskey glass. “But I’ll not relinquish the boy. He stays with me.”

  A wave of uncertainty flooded through Nathaniel. This was by far the most his uncle had ever offered. For a moment he was tempted to agree, yet he could not bring himself to separate Gregory from his sisters. It would be too cruel a blow to the young boy.

  “I shall consider the offer most carefully.” Lord Bridwell laughed mildly. “I thought you might. Especially the part about a doubled allowance.”

  Nathaniel tensed, feeling his temper climb. By sheer will he restrained his reactions, deflecting his uncle’s mocking laugh with his most arrogant smile.

  Then he rose slowly to his feet, straightened to his full, impressive height, gave his uncle a curt nod of farewell, along with a deliberate, disparaging look and walked away.

  The c
old, biting air had a restorative effect on Nathaniel’s battered mind. Hatless, he stood on the front steps of the mansion, gulping in several deep breaths. After a few moments he dragged his hand through his hair and turned towards the street.

  It was time for that drink. Lord knows, he had more than earned it.

  Chapter Two

  The sound of footsteps rumbling overhead began as a small patter, then increased in volume to a dull roar. Miss Harriet Sainthill, comfortably ensconced in a large chair set before a cheerfully crackling fire, glanced up from the exceedingly dull book she was reading, half-expecting to see pieces of the plaster ceiling descend upon the spotless carpet.

  The footsteps moved away, then sounded in the hallway directly outside the drawing room doors. Harriet closed her book and clutched it to her chest in an unconscious, protective gesture. Suddenly, without any additional warning, the doors burst open and smacked the wall.

  The intruder entered the room with all the energy and enthusiasm of a charging bull. In a blur of color, the small figure flew across the room and crouched behind the gold brocade sofa.

  Harriet set the book down on the small table beside her, but before she could rise and investigate, a second intruder entered. He stood mutely in the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered and imposing. His strong features and handsome face were contorted in an odd expression of equal parts anger and distress.

  “Griffin!” Harriet called out in surprise as she watched her brother advance purposefully into the room. “Is something wrong?”

  Viscount Dewhurst grunted a garbled response. He swept the room with his gaze, stopping to regard the brocade sofa with a lingering inquiry.

  “Have you seen Georgie recently?” the viscount asked. “I seem to have misplaced my son.”

  Harriet cleared her throat. Before she could formulate a reply, the sound of a soft whimper echoed through the room.

  The noise startled both Harriet and her brother. “What is wrong?” she asked in a horrified whisper.

  The viscount’s jaw clenched. “That is between Georgie and me. Have you seen him?”

  Over the past two years Harriet had come to respect her brother’s ability as a parent and his authority as a father. Though she occasionally disagreed with the decisions the viscount made regarding his son, she never doubted the strong bond of love that existed between the two.

  Yet her instinct to protect her five-year-old nephew from his father’s most uncharacteristic wrath prevailed.

  “I have not actually spoken with Georgie since breakfast,” Harriet said slowly.

  The viscount crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her with a frown. “That is not what I asked.”

  “ ’Tis all right, Aunt Harriet,” a small voice said shakily. “There is no need for you to lie. I am here, Father.”

  Harriet looked from her brother to the little boy who slowly rose to his feet and stood behind the barrier of the sofa. Georgie’s normally rosy cheeks were pale, his narrow face shadowed and instead of the usual dancing merriment in his gray eyes, which were the exact replica of his imposing father’s, there was anxiety.

  His obvious distress tore at Harriet’s heart, until she noticed the little boy’s chin was set with a pugnacious tilt.

  “Oh, Georgie, you silly lad, there you are,” Harriet said brightly. “Were you playing a game, perchance? Is that why you were hiding?”

  Harriet smiled and moved across the room to stand beside her nephew. The viscount dogged her heels.

  “Stop circling him like a mother wolf protecting one of her cubs,” Griffin whispered in her ear. “I’m not going to devour him.”

  “I never thought that you would.” Harriet retorted. “Nevertheless, I’m staying right here.”

  She noticed her brother’s mouth quiver for a moment in what might be considered amusement. Then the viscount turned his full attention to his son.

  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself, young man? The nursery is at sixes and sevens and I have been told that you are the reason for all the mayhem.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.” Georgie pulled a long face. “Emma Kate was quiet until that mean Mrs. Simms came in and started yelling.”

  “Mrs. Simms said she caught you with your hands in Emma Kate’s cradle,” the viscount reported solemnly. “I know that you are curious about your new sister and are anxious to cuddle her, but you have been told repeatedly that you may not lift the baby from her cradle. It just isn’t safe.”

  “I was not being a bad boy and I was not trying to pick Emma Kate up,” Georgie insisted. “The baby only started crying when she heard Mrs. Simms being mean to me.”

  The viscount looked doubtful. “What were you doing in the nursery?”

  “I was visiting the baby.”

  “That’s all you were doing? Visiting?”

  “Well, there was one other thing.” Georgie gave a slight sniff. “I was trying to taste Emma Kate’s toes.”

  “What?” Harriet and the viscount both exclaimed.

  Georgie shrugged. “I heard Aunt Elizabeth tell Mama that the baby’s toes were sweet, tender nibbles so I wanted to taste them.”

  “You bit the baby’s toes?” Griffin asked incredulously. “Is that why she started crying?”

  “No! I lifted the blanket and tried to find her foot. She kicks and squirms a lot, you know. Then Mrs. Simms came in and she started yelling at me and Emma Kate began to cry.”

  “It certainly sounds as if Mrs. Simms is equally to blame for the incident,” Harriet said as she patted Georgie’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “After all, it was the nursemaid’s loud voice that woke the infant.”

  “Harriet.” Viscount Dewhurst cast his sister a hard, steely glance. “Stop interfering.”

  Harriet returned the glare with a quelling look of her own. “I am not interfering. I am merely pointing out the salient facts of the incident.”

  “Georgie knows he is not to enter the nursery unless he has been given permission,” Griffin said. “Isn’t that true, son?”

  Georgie shrugged noncommittally.

  The viscount rested his hands on his lean waist and glanced down at his son, but the boy remained stoic and silent.

  Seeing that this approach was making no impact on the child’s stony will, Harriet said, “I am certain Georgie never meant to be deliberately disobedient.”

  “It was my room first,” the boy uttered mutinously.

  “ ’Tis unfair to get hollered at for going into my own room.”

  Harriet met Griffin’s gaze meaningfully. As she had suspected, this incident was about far more than the baby.

  “Oh, son.” The viscount slowly lowered himself to a crouched position. “That section of the nursery is only meant for babies. Your new room is much bigger and much better suited for the needs of a growing boy.”

  Georgie shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His mulish expression told them he was not entirely convinced.

  “I think that Georgie needs a few moments to consider how he feels about all of this,” Harriet said.

  The viscount tilted his head and sent another ominous look of warning her way. Harriet ignored it.

  “I don’t like having Emma Kate in my old room,” Georgie declared boldly. “Not one little bit.”

  “Like it or not, that is how things are going to be, young man.” The viscount blew out an exasperated sigh and raked a hand through his dark hair.

  Georgie hunched his shoulders and stomped to the corner of the room. Harriet made a move to follow him, but her brother grabbed her arm. “Let him sulk a few minutes. Once his emotions settle he will see reason.”

  “Children are difficult to reason with at the best of times,” Harriet said. “I doubt you will get a wounded five-year-old to act with great logic.”

  Griffin rubbed his face wearily. “I don’t understand this behavior. Yesterday he threw a tantrum when it was time for bed, two days before he refused to eat his dinner. He has always been such a
sensible, affable child.”

  “That was before he had a sister that everyone else fusses and coos over.” Harriet set her mouth firmly. “Georgie is frightened and feeling neglected. He is hurt, worried. So he is doing everything he can to garner your attention.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “You forget, I know all too well how it feels to have a parent who treats you as if you barely exist,” Harriet said flatly.

  “Bloody hell! I am nothing like our father, who cared only for our brother Neville, because he was the eldest son and heir. You know how much I dote on Georgie. How dare you make such a remark?”

  “I was not referring to you, Griffin.” Harriet tilted her stubborn chin to a more obstinate angle. “I know that Faith has had a difficult time recovering from childbirth and is physically unable to devote a great deal of time to Georgie.

  “But he does not understand. What he has finally realized is that he is different from Emma Kate. He asked me three times this week if I had ever met his mother. His real mother.”

  “My God.” Griffin’s voice was a harsh whisper.

  “He was so young when she died. I doubted he had any memories of her.”

  “Nor do you,” Harriet said tartly.

  The moment the words left her mouth, Harriet knew she had gone too far. Curse her devilish tongue. Young Georgie was the result of a brief, indiscreet relationship her brother had engaged in while living in the Colonies, years before his marriage.

  In fact, he had not even known of the child’s existence until a servant had brought the boy to Griffin’s ship. But Griffin had worked hard to make up for his early neglect, even bringing the boy home to England when he discovered he had most unexpectedly become the new viscount.

  Only the immediate family knew of the true circumstances of Georgie’s birth, but they all were very much aware that secrets of this nature were eventually revealed, especially in a small country hamlet like Harrowby.