His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)
Grace Burrowes
Chapter One
* * *
“Children, much less three children and one of them a female, will not do.” More strongly than that, Hessian Kettering could not put his sentiments, not in the presence of his niece. “I have no patience with noise, drama, or dirt, while children delight in all of the foregoing.”
Worth Kettering passed Hessian the baby, whose charming attributes included a penchant for batting at the noses of unsuspecting uncles.
“Lord Evers’s will names you as guardian of all three of his minor offspring,” Worth said, pouring himself a fresh glass of lemonade. “Unless you want to tangle with Chancery—at considerable expense—then you have become the legal authority over three children. The boys will remain at school for the rest of the term, and for the girl, you simply hire a governess or two.”
Hessian did not attempt to sip from his own drink with an infant in his arms. The child was a solid little bundle with her papa’s dark hair and brilliant blue eyes—also a piercing shriek when she was unhappy.
Hessian and Worth were enjoying the morning air on the back terrace of Worth’s London town house, Worth’s Alsatian hound panting at their feet. The breeze was mild, the sun warm, and the plane maples providing just the right amount of shade.
That Lord and Lady Evers had gone to their reward seemed impossible. They’d been Hessian’s closest neighbors in Cumberland, and Lady Evers had been a friend.
More than a friend, for a very brief time.
“You raise another issue,” Hessian said, nuzzling the baby’s crown. Why were babies so wonderfully soft? “Children are expensive, and my coin is limited. I’m spending more than I should on this wife-hunting ordeal. I must have been daft to let you talk me into it. Ah, my niece knows a handsome fellow when she sees one.”
The baby was beaming at him, as only a baby could. Angels might exude as rich a benevolence as did one contented infant, though angels didn’t grin half so winningly.
“My daughter likes you because you resemble me,” Worth said, “and I didn’t convince you to come to London. That feat lies squarely at Jacaranda’s feet.”
Jacaranda being Worth’s wife and the mother of the little cherub in Hessian’s arms. “Why can’t they stay this sweet?”
“Children?”
“The ladies. I can muster a scintilla of patience for an innocent child, but the matchmakers will drive me straight to Bedlam.”
Hessian was the current Earl of Grampion, and however impoverished the title and distant the family seat—Cumberland was quite distant—earls were rare prizes, sought after by bankers’ daughters, American heiresses, and barons’ sisters.
Bachelor earls were also sought after by merry widows and straying wives, about which, some helpful brother might have warned a fellow.
The baby sighed a mighty sigh as if to echo her uncle’s sentiments, and Hessian tucked the child against his shoulder, the better to rub her little back.
“Your finances are healthy enough,” Worth said, draining his glass. “Especially considering where you were a few years ago. You have a talent for economizing.”
Worth was being kind, a tendency more in evidence since his marriage. “Three children will set me back considerably. Do you know how much it costs to launch a young lady in proper society?”
Hessian didn’t know exactly, but he’d seen the finery those young ladies sported, the carriages they drove, the millinery they delighted in. He saw their accoutrements at one social event after another, and in his nightmares.
“As it happens, I do know, because that’s my daughter you’re cuddling so shamelessly, and I’ve already set aside funds for her dowry.”
Babies were made for cuddling, brothers were apparently made for causing problems. “Lady Evers had a sister. Did the will mention her in any regard? Mention any family at all?”
Everybody had family, though Hessian’s family was limited to a younger sister, a niece, Worth, Jacaranda, and this darling child. So far. Given the mutual devotion of the baby’s parents, she’d have siblings by the score.
Worth scratched the hound’s ears. “Lord Evers was the last of his line, save for his sons. The boy Lucas is Lord Evers now, and if you coax my daughter to sleep, I will never forgive you. It’s too early for her nap.”
“She’s tired of listening to your prattling.” Hessian rose to take the baby on a tour of the garden, for, like her uncle, she delighted in the out of doors.
The dog looked to Worth, who got to his feet rather than allow Hessian to take the child anywhere unsupervised. Who would have thought Worth Kettering, former prodigal son, would be such a doting papa?
“Lady Evers does have a sister,” Worth said. “Mrs. Roberta Braithwaite, wife of the late Colonel Hilary Braithwaite. She’s something of a hostess, but being a widow, she’s hardly a suitable legal guardian for the next Lord Evers.”
Hessian recalled meeting the colonel and Mrs. Braithwaite several years ago at one of the Everses’ dinner parties.
“Mrs. Braithwaite won’t serve,” he said. “All I can remember of her is a tittering laugh and suspiciously orange hair.” And that Lady Evers had barely tolerated her older sister.