The Hellion (Wicked Wallflowers #1)(60)

So I took in all sail and cried, “Way enough now.”

I hailed her in English, she answered me clear,

“I’m from the Black Arrow bound to the Shakespeare.”

So I tailed her my flipper and took her in tow

And yardarm to yardarm away we did go.

But as we were going she said unto me

There’s a spanking full-rigger just ready for sea.

“You need to be gone now,” the nursemaid chided, clapping her hands once. That slight sound brought the slumbering babe’s eyes open.

“You heard the maid,” Wilson called over. “Get out of the room and away from the babe.”

Beth dropped her hands on her hips. “Not her. You.”

“I’ve been instructed that this one”—he angled his head toward Cleopatra—“isn’t ever to be alone with the babe.”

“I’ve”—the young woman colored—“nursemaid business to be seeing to.”

“Then you can see to it after she’s gone.”

“Mr. Wilson, the business I have to see to requires assistance, and given as I’ve no intention of asking for your help with this, I’d advise you to go. Now.”

No more than an inch taller than Cleopatra, and nearly as slender, she’d the look of a waif. Cleopatra, however, had learned long ago that courage and strength came in all shapes and forms. She suppressed a smile as the nursemaid sent the muttering guard packing.

“Well, he’s a miserable blighter,” the young woman muttered as soon as she’d closed the door. “Making all that noise about a babe, and insulting you, no less.”

“You didn’t have anything you required assistance with, did you?” Cleopatra asked the nursemaid with a dawning understanding.

“That’s not entirely true.” Beth offered a devious grin. “I have been trying to determine just how to be rid of that nasty brute since the moment he followed you in here.”

Stunned silent by that gesture of kindness, she stared on as Beth gathered Penelope’s babe in her arms. Cleopatra had always believed one could learn much about another person by how one treated a babe. Diggory and his men had often railed at and insulted those tender souls. Most of their drunken wives had worried more about obtaining another pint than nursing their offspring. This unexpected champion handled the babe the way one might care for the king’s crown. The fussing child instantly quieted. Rocking her in silence for another moment, Beth returned her to the cradle.

A faint click echoed around the room, and Cleopatra looked to the entrance.

Her heart flipped around as Adair stepped inside the nursery. With his dark-green Rannoch tweed waistcoat, black jacket, and the absence of a cravat, none at the evening’s festivities would mistake him for one of the noblemen in attendance. And yet—she raked her gaze over his lightly scarred face—how very much more she preferred Adair Thorne’s ruggedness to the pompous lords of the ton who couldn’t be bothered with so much as a dance. Realizing too late that she remained kneeling beside Paisley’s crib, ogling Adair, she burned hot.

He favored the nursemaid with a single glance that instantly sent the bold woman scurrying from the room.

Adair made his way to the side of Paisley’s crib, and Cleopatra immediately restored all her attentions to the babe.

“You’re late,” he said in hushed tones, wholly considerate ones of a man mindful of a slumbering babe.

Cleopatra bit the inside of her lower lip. Damn him. Must he even be thoughtful in this regard, too? Couldn’t he be obnoxious and loud as the latest guard he and Black had sicced on her? Because Adair didn’t want to be with you . . . that taunting voice reminded at the back of her mind. To him, she’d always be linked to the thankfully dead Diggory and his former gang.

Ignoring his outstretched hand, Cleopatra shoved to her feet. “Been sent for me?” she asked quietly so as not to wake the babe. “Your turn now that Wilson’s been relieved for the night?”

Adair homed his keen gaze on her face. “Did he offend you?” he demanded.

She immediately masked her features, going tight-lipped.

In a touch that was an unlikely blend of tenderness and strength, Adair collected her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What did he say?”

Was this another damned test of her character? Cleopatra edged away from his hold. “Oi ain’t a snitch.”

Silent for a long moment, Adair swept his probing stare over her. “He insulted you, and yet you’d say nothing?”

She lifted her shoulders in a defiant shrug. “’e’s no different than you and your kind. Thinks Oi’ll kill the babe while ya all sleep.”

Adair snapped his eyebrows together in a tense, angry line. “He said that?”

Cleopatra let her silence stand for her answer.

Adair unleashed a black curse. “I am sorry he treated you that way. I will speak to him.”

Damn him for caring, and damn her for the warmth that his defense roused within her. She’d not allow herself any further weakening where Adair Thorne was concerned. “You’ll speak to him?” She scoffed. “You’ve already doubted me ten times to Sunday.”

A dull flush stained his cheeks.

“And you’ll continue to do so.” And he’d no doubt toss you out on your arse if he discovered the truth. “So, feel free to go back to avoiding me.” Cleopatra took a step to get past him, desperately needing space between them. But he matched her movements. She made another move, and he swiftly placed himself in her path, blocking her retreat.