Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(64)

She pursed her lips but didn’t lecture. Nick would never let harm come to their child. Besides, it was so good to see James finally enjoying his father. The past weeks had not been easy. Nick had been a stranger, and James had wanted nothing to do with him. But Nick had insisted on doing many of the nurse’s duties himself. He soothed James when he was hurt, fed him when he was hungry, and even changed his soiled clothing—only once, but that was more than most fathers and mothers of the ton had ever done. Very slowly, James had come to realize his father was not so horrible after all. Adelaide quite agreed.

But just now, she was quite certain Nick was hiding something. “Why are we truly going to Bath, Nick? What aren’t you telling me?”

He opened his mouth to answer, and James stuck his fingers into it. He laughed. After freeing his jaw, he said, “Angel, a former spy must keep some things secret.”

“Do you think so?” she asked pleasantly. She allowed her half-lidded gaze to drift slowly down his body, lingering at the fall of his breeches, a promise of how she could make him talk any time she wished. When, at last, she lifted her eyes to his face, he was watching her hungrily.

She smiled. She knew she needn’t use such tactics—he would give her his secrets and anything else she asked for, always. But they both enjoyed the game.

She stood and walked toward him. She planted a kiss on James’s downy cheek before turning to her husband. “So, we are going to Bath, then?”

He stroked her bare arm. “I will be good, Adelaide, I promise. So very good.”

“Oh, no.” She laughed softly, tilting her head up for his kiss. “I think I love you best when you are very, very wicked.”





Epilogue


Eight years later


Two sets of legs dangled from the old oak tree at Haverly. The first belonged to James. This did not concern Nick. James was tall for his age and going through an awkward gangly stage, but he was strong and cautious. The second pair, however, seemed to be swathed in a white cotton dress, and this concerned Nick a great deal.

For the legs must belong to Diana, firstborn daughter of Nathaniel and Alice. She was forever getting into scrapes and, more often than not, towing James along with her.

The legs disappeared. Nick groaned.

“She won’t break his ankle, Nick.” Nathaniel stood next to him, hands on his hips and head tilted back as he gazed up at the tree. “Not on purpose, at any rate.”

Nick looked at his brother sideways. “At least you admit where the fault would lie.”

“She is her mother’s daughter, in all ways except her appearance.” It was true. Diana was the spitting image of her father.

“How fortunate, then, that you have one of each.” Nick nodded to where Nathaniel’s second daughter, Lucy, sat curled on her grandfather’s lap, her dark head resting on his shoulder. Unlike Diana, she looked exactly like Alice, and therefore Adelaide.

Nate narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see you sneaking Lucy an extra tart, Nick. You will spoil her.”

“I can’t help it. She seems so much like Adelaide to me, and I have no daughters of my own. One can’t spoil sons, you know. There’s no fun in it.”

It was a strange twist of fate, he often thought, that Nate had only daughters, and Nick had only sons. Perhaps it would not always be so—they had time yet. But Nick did not worry for the future, and he knew his brother did not, either. If James inherited Nick’s fortune, and his second son, Philip, became Wintham, both men would take care of their cousins and see that they wanted for nothing.

They were all family, after all.

Freesia waddled by, glaring. “I hate you both.”

Nick and Nathaniel exchanged grins. In a much more amusing twist of fate, Freesia had been blessed with twin boys, now aged four years, and was again increasing to such extremes that the whole family suspected she was in the same predicament once more.

“I hate you both” had become Freesia’s standard greeting.

Nick turned to look over his shoulder. “Your wife requires a footstool.”

He needn’t have bothered. Her husband was already running into the house to find a stool—and anything else Freesia required.

Upon his return with the stool, he was accompanied by Alice and two maids carrying trays of cups, saucers, and a teapot. Nick’s mother brought up the rear along with Adelaide, who carried a tray of sandwiches.

Nick moved forward, his eyes on his wife, just in time to hear his mother say, “The day is too lovely to waste indoors, so we thought we would have our tea out here. Adelaide, darling girl, why did you not let the maid carry the tray? For heaven’s sake.”

“I have it,” he said quietly. He lifted the tray from her arms, and she smiled up at him.

“Thank you, darling,” she murmured.

As ever, the words sent a frisson of pleasure down his spine. It was not hard to make her happy, yet he was proud to say he excelled at it. Happiness was not guaranteed in life, as they both had learned years ago. But he would do his damnedest.

“Tell me a story,” Lucy demanded from Wintham’s lap as they all sat down to enjoy their tea.

“Shall I tell you of King Harthaknut? His castle is quite close to here,” Nate said, smiling at his daughter.

“Please don’t,” Lucy said sincerely. “And not one of your stories, either, Uncle Nick. They are too frightening, even when you leave out all the interesting bits. I want to hear…” She pursed her small lips. “Tell me about the hole that Aunt Adelaide dug to trap Uncle Nick, but she caught Papa instead and Mama had to rescue him.”