The Leopard Prince (Princes #2)(90)

The horse had gone lame a mile back. He’d tried looking at the mud-clogged hoof but hadn’t found anything obviously wrong. Now he was reduced to walking her to the next town. Slowly walking her.

“What do you intend to do once we catch up with Lady Georgina?” Bennet asked.

Harry turned to peer at him through the downpour. Bennet had an expression of studied nonchalance.

“I’m going to marry her,” Harry said.

“Mmm. I’d got the idea that was your overall plan.” Bennet scratched his chin. “But she did take off for London. You must admit it looks rather as if she might be, well, unreceptive to the idea.”

“She’s carrying my child.” A gust of wind flung a spatter of icy raindrops playfully against Harry’s face. His cheeks were so numb with cold he hardly felt it.

“That part puzzles me.” Bennet cleared his throat. “Because a lady in such a state, you’d think she’d be running to you with open arms. Instead, she appears to be running away.”

“We’ve already been over that.” “Yes,” Bennet agreed. “But, I mean, did you say something to her before?”

“No.” “Because women can be awfully sensitive when they’re in the family way.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “And you would you know this how?”

“Everyone…” Bennet tilted his chin down, causing a trickle of water to pour off his tricorn into his lap. “Damn!” He straightened. “Everyone knows about women with child. It’s just common knowledge. Perhaps you didn’t pay enough attention to her.”

“She got quite a bit of attention from me,” Harry growled irritably. He noted Will’s brown eyes peering curiously around Bennet’s back and grimaced. “Especially on the night before she left.”

“Oh. Ah.” Bennet frowned thoughtfully.

Harry searched for a change of subject. “I’m grateful to you for coming with me,” he said. “Sorry you had to rush Thomas’s funeral. And your father’s.”

“Actually”—Bennet cleared his throat—“I was glad you were there, rushed or not. Thomas and I weren’t close, but he was my brother. And it was hard dealing with the succession on top of his funeral. As for Father…” Bennet swiped a drip of water off his nose and shrugged.

Harry splashed through a puddle. Not that it mattered. He was already soaked to the skin.

“Of course, you’re my brother, too,” Bennet said. Harry shot a glance at him. Bennet was squinting down the road.

“The only brother I have now.” Bennet turned and gave him a surprisingly sweet smile.

Harry half grinned. “Aye.” “Excepting Will, here.” Bennet nodded to the boy clinging to his back like a monkey.

Will’s eyes widened. “What?”

Harry scowled. He hadn’t wanted to tell Will, as he was afraid it would confuse the boy’s already complicated life, but it appeared that Bennet wasn’t waiting to discuss the matter.

“It seems that my father might very well be yours as well,” Bennet said now to the child. “We have similar eyes, you know.”

“But mine are brown.” Will frowned. “The shape, he means,” Harry said. “Oh.” Will thought about that for a bit, then peeked at him. “What about Harry? Am I his brother, too?”

“We don’t know,” Harry said quietly. “But since we don’t, we might as well say we are. If you don’t mind. Do you?”

Will vigorously shook his head. “Good,” Bennet said. “Now that’s settled, I’m sure Will is as concerned as I am about your impending nuptials.”

“What?” Harry lost the smile that had begun to form on his lips.

“The thing is, Lady Georgina is the Earl of Maitland’s sister.” Bennet pursed his lips. “And if she decides to dig in her heels… might be a problem, the two of us going up against an earl.”

“Huh,” Harry said. It hadn’t occurred to him before that he might have to go through his lady’s brothers in order to speak to her. But if she was well and truly mad at him… “Damn.”

“Exactly.” Bennet nodded. “It’d help if we could send word ahead to someone in London when we reach the next town. Have them reconnoiter, so to speak. Especially if it takes a while to get you a fresh horse.” Bennet looked at the mare, who was definitely lagging.

“Aye.”

“Not to mention, it would be nice to have someone at our back when we confront Maitland,” Bennet continued. “I know a couple of blokes in London, of course. Might be up for it, if we can convince them it’s a sort of lark.” His brow furrowed. “They aren’t usually sober, but if I impress upon them the seriousness—”

“I have some friends,” Harry said. “Who?” “Edward de Raaf and Simon Iddesleigh.” “The Earl of Swartingham?” Bennet’s eyes widened. “And Iddesleigh’s titled, too, isn’t he?”

“He’s Viscount Iddesleigh.” “How the hell do you know them?” “Met through the Agrarian Society.” “The Agrarians?” Bennet wrinkled his nose as if at a bad smell. “Don’t they debate turnips?”

Harry’s mouth quirked. “It’s for gentlemen interested in agriculture, yes.”