Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(61)

He tugged gently on her arm. She followed woodenly, her spine stiff, holding herself as far from him as she could without causing a scene.

“Adelaide, please,” he said, his voice low. “I tried to stop him, truly I did. He has not lost the marquessate on my account. I promised you I would not withdraw my support, and I meant it. He is my friend still. He saved my life.”

“I don’t understand. If he had waited a week, the letters patent would have been signed and the marquessate would be his,” she said. “Why would he do this?”

Montrose shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps he did not want the title, knowing his firstborn could never inherit.” He looked at her intently. “We will speak of this more later, if you wish. But now let us focus only on our happiness. Can we do that, Adelaide?”

She nodded and curtsied as he left her there with her mother.

It was then that Lady Margaret’s words struck home.

He has brought the boy to live with him.

Oh, God.

Nick had taken her son!





Chapter Forty-Three


Nick was exhausted. He had, in the short space of forty-eight hours, traveled to Epsom and back again, publicly destroyed his chances at a marquessate, and learned that his son did not like him, no, not one little bit.

It was the last part that rankled most.

He stretched in his leather chair in front of the fire. “My own son thinks I’m a monster, and he can’t even speak yet.”

“Give him time,” Miss Sherwood told him. “He isn’t used to men. There are no men who live with me, and the two lads who work the farm rarely come into the house.”

“But I’m his father.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that,” she said practically.

Nick sighed. He was just fortunate that Miss Sherwood had agreed to his plan. It had taken a lot of explaining and promising to convince her to relent and allow James to come to London. Then it had taken several pounds to convince Miss Sherwood to tag along. Her farm couldn’t run itself, she’d said, and even the two farmhands weren’t enough. She required an additional two men for the duration of her absence—and it wasn’t lost on him that it took two solidly built men to replace one small woman.

But Nick had done it, willingly. Frankly, the thought of being alone with his son terrified him. He had no idea how to care for a baby, and James was still very much a baby. At one year of age, his vocabulary was limited to Jane—although he couldn’t manage the J, so it sounded like Ane—and ball, neither of which was very useful in discovering if the boy was hungry or whether he was warm enough.

And Nick did care very much that James was warm enough. He would cheerfully murder the man who caused the boy to shiver. It was the strangest feeling of helplessness, of surrendering all common sense. Nick would do anything for this tiny creature. This was what Adelaide must have felt when she’d left James to find work. Perhaps, too, it was what his own mother felt when she had sent him away from his home.

“When will you tell Adelaide?” Miss Sherwood asked.

There was a loud pounding against the door.

Ah.

“I expect someone already has,” he said.

That had been his plan. The moment he came back from Epsom, Nathaniel had informed him that Adelaide’s engagement would be announced at Almack’s. Nick had tried all yesterday and this morning to reach her, but to no avail. He was turned away at her door and his letter returned unopened. Nathaniel had promised he would tell Adelaide himself, tonight, before the engagement became public. He must have kept his word.

Nick stood and went to the door, wrenching it open with his heart in his throat.

And there she was, beautiful as always, and quite damp from the rain. Her eyes sparked with fury as she faced him. She was no longer his sweet angel, but a warrior queen ready to do battle.

Not exactly his plan.

“I want my son,” she demanded.

He stepped back silently, allowing her to enter. She stormed past him and came to a sudden halt as she realized he was not alone.

“Jane?”

Miss Sherwood stood quickly. “Adelaide. I had not expected you like this.”

Adelaide paled. “Are you…and Nick…?” She struggled with the words.

“God, no,” Nick said as he caught her meaning. “Adelaide, no.”

“I am only here as a nurse for James. Just until…” Miss Sherwood paused, then smiled wryly. “Well, just until you, actually.”

For a moment, Adelaide looked taken aback, but then her spine snapped straight and she tilted her chin up. “And here I am. Give me my son.”

Fuck.

This was not going at all as he’d planned. She was a great deal angrier than he had hoped, for one thing. For another, her lips were turning slightly blue.

He moved toward her carefully. “James is sleeping. You’re wet and cold. Let me take your cloak, and you can stand closer to the fire. Then we will discuss this rationally.”

There was a mulish set to her mouth that made him think she would refuse and happily freeze just to spite him. But she removed her cloak with sharp, angry motions and flung it at him. The look she leveled was scathing. “I am not here to be rational, Nick. I am here for James, and I will take him by any means necessary.”

Well, that was good news.