than I.’
‘Your homeland?’ he prompted, for it was yet another fact that he did not know.
‘Belgium,’ she said, softly. ‘I was born in Antwerp.’
‘And we met in Bath,’ he added. It did not answer how either of them came to be there. But perhaps, if repeated often enough, it would make sense.
‘You may think it common, but your work is the most delicate I have seen,’ Penny reminded her with a sigh. Then she looked to Will. ‘It is a shame that you did not bring Justine to us before the last christening. I would so have liked to see a bonnet of that trim she is making now.’
‘For the next child, you shall have one,’ Justine replied, not looking up.
‘It is too much to ask.’ Penny smiled at Will as though he had a share in the compliment. ‘The collar she made for me last month makes me feel as regal as a duchess.’ Fine praise indeed, for it was rare to hear Penny feeling anything other than ordinary.
‘The edging she made for my petticoat is so fine it seemed a shame to cover it with a skirt, Daphne added. ‘I’ve had my maid take up the hem of the dress so that it might be seen to good advantage.’
‘Because you are shameless,’ her husband added with a smile. He was glancing at her legs as though there were other things that were too pretty to be hidden. It was probably true, if one had a taste for girls who were buxom and ginger. Daphne was as pretty as Penny was sensible.
Will glanced at his own wife, his mind still stumbling over the concept. The candlelight was shining copper in her hair and bringing out the green in her eyes. In museums, he’d admired the technique of the Flemish painters and the way their subject seemed to glow like opals in the light. But if this woman was an indication, perhaps they had simply learned to paint what they saw before them. Though she sat still and silent in the corner, the woman he had chosen seemed illuminated from within, like the banked coals of a fire. Perhaps that was what had drawn him to her. For now that he had seen her in candlelight, he could not seem to look away.
There was a knock on the parlour door and Adam all but leapt to his feet to open it, breaking the spell. He turned back to Will with a grin. ‘Now, for the highlight of the evening. We are to have a visit from your namesake, William.’ He opened the door and the nurse entered, carrying a plump toddler that Will assumed was his nephew.
It was almost as great a shock as discovering he had a wife. When he had last seen little William, they had been in the chapel and the infant had been squawking at the water poured over his head. That child had been but a few months old and had cared for nothing but milk and sleep. The baby that was brought into the room was fully three times the size of the one he remembered and struggling to escape, his arms outstretched to his parents, demanding their attention.
Penny had already set aside the book she’d been holding and took the baby, making little cooing noises and interrogating the nurse about his day. Next, it was Adam’s turn. But instead of coddling the child, he knelt on the floor and demanded that his son come to him. The child did, once he was free of his mother’s arms. It was done in a series of lunges, combined with some industrious crawling and ending in an impressive attempt by little Billy to haul himself upright on the leg of the tea table. He was properly rewarded by his father with a hug and a sweet that appeared from out of Adam’s waistcoat pocket, which Penny announced would ruin the boy’s sleep.
Will felt a strange tightening in his chest at the sight. Six months ago, he had given little thought to his nephew, other than a natural pride at sharing his name. But to have missed so much in the boy’s development was like losing a thing he’d had no idea he’d wanted.
Adam scooped the child from the floor and wiped the stickiness from his hands and mouth before announcing, ‘And now, young Bill, it is time to meet your uncle. Can you say hello for him? Come now,’ he coaxed. ‘We have heard the word before. Uncle. Show your godfather how brilliant you are.’
But as they approached, Billy showed no interest in speech. In fact, he’d wound his little hands tightly into his father’s lapel and turned his face into the cloth. The closer they came, the more shy Billy seemed to become. By the time they were standing before Will, he could see nothing but the boy’s hunched shoulders and curling blond hair.
‘Hello, Bill,’ he said softly, hoping that the boy was only playing a game with him. ‘Peek-a-boo.’
Instead of laughing at the sound of his voice, the boy let out a scream and burst into tears, butting his head into his father’s shoulder as though demanding to be taken away.
‘I don’t understand,’ Adam said. ‘He has seen you before. We took him to your room, each day. We would not have him forget...’
‘It is all right,’ Will said. But it was not. Had the time he’d lost turned him into a monster? What could the boy see that the others were not remarking on?
Now Penny was fussing over the child, taking him from Adam with a dark look. ‘This is too much excitement. I will take him back to the nursery. It is time for bed, if it is possible to calm him.’
Will’s head was pounding and the screaming boy was making it worse. ‘No. I will go. Leave him be.’ One crutch slipped out from under him for a moment and he nearly stumbled. But at least as he staggered it was in the direction of the hall. He allowed the momentum to carry him from the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
There was a moment of shocked silence in the room, after William Felkirk’s sudden retreat. Even the child was quiet, other than to heave a wet sigh of relief. And then all started for the door at once.
‘I will go,’ said Justine in as firm a voice as she could manage. Apparently, it was strong enough. Everyone relaxed. Even the duke took a step away from the door and offered an equally quiet, ‘Of course. It must be you.’
She did not particularly want to follow, if it meant being alone with Lord Felkirk again. His refusal of her on the previous evening had come as a relief. She had half-feared, even before receiving Montague’s orders, she might have to feign affection for a man she wanted no part of.
While nursing him, she had not bothered to think too much about the character of the man she was caring for. The feeding, washing and changing of linens had been little more than a series of tasks to be completed. It was good to be busy and to occupy her mind with the routine of duty.
But that was over now. Tonight, she might have to lie still in his bed, her own thoughts and fears clamouring loud in her head, while he did whatever he wished...
She had hoped for continued indifference, for at least a little while longer. If they could live as strangers for a while, she might think of some way to escape before the inevitable occurred. But he had been watching her, all during dinner, and in the parlour as she’d worked. And he had been smiling. Although it was better than his continual suspicion, it had been the sort of warm, speculative smile she had seen on the faces of men before. It was likely the first step in a chain of events that would lead to the bedroom and trap her even deeper in the lie she had told.
She put the fear of that aside as she went out into the hall. At the moment, he needed her. He needed someone, at least. His wife would be the logical choice to offer comfort. The poor man had quit the room like a wounded animal after his godson’s rejection.
