Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(32)

“I want Mama,” Artie sobbed, collapsing against her chest. “And I want DeeDee.”

“I’m right here,” Diana said. “I’m still here, Artie.”

The girl curled her fingers into Diana’s apron front and pulled so hard that a few pins gave way, and the apron sagged over her bosom. “I want you to stay. Papa will make you stay!”

Goodness.

Somehow a two-year-old already knew the power that dukes had over lowly folk like herself. Diana rocked back and forth.

After a while, Godfrey came over to join them, and Diana began a brand-new story about Floyd, the friend whom Fitzy had left behind when he came to the castle.

“Who’s he?” Artie asked thickly. She was snuggled against Diana’s breast, her thumb in her mouth.

“Floyd is a beautiful peacock,” Diana said, thinking of a certain lord’s cheekbones in the light of the fire, and how strong his back and shoulders were.

North had worn no coat the night before, and all that snowy linen made his face gleam in the firelight. He wasn’t thin, but somehow she didn’t think he was eating properly. His skin was drawn taut over his cheekbones.

Floyd had been to war and back, it turned out.

The children were fascinated.





Chapter Eight





That evening



North paused in the door of the drawing room. The room was crowded with furniture, but he was used to seeing it thronged with family and guests. In their absence, it was startlingly silent.

“There you are, darling!” Aunt Knowe waved at him from a sofa facing the gardens.

He bowed with a flourish. “My best of aunts.”

“Oh, pooh, do sit down. I’m just going over a letter sent by Wilkins, the estate manager in Wales.” She folded the paper and set it on a table that dated to the first Wilde, an intrepid fellow who had survived a siege by bringing in food through Lindow Moss, the bog east of the castle. According to family legend, his enemy’s bodies disappeared without a trace in the same place.

“I was under the impression that Alaric was going to help Father run the estates,” North said, as he sank into the seat beside her.

“My dear, he was miserable. So heroic, but your brother is an adventurer. I saw instantly that darling Willa was the perfect match for him. I simply had to convince him to follow his own instincts.”

“So you have been overseeing the estates?”

“I have,” his aunt said blithely. “I should have been doing it all along, but when Horatius died, your father was so terrified that he wanted to keep you close, and handing over management of the estates did the trick. Of course, Wilkins, Butterick, and Shell do a great deal of work.”

North digested that in silence. In retrospect, his father had given him oversight of three estate managers within weeks of Horatius’s death.

“I wrestled the ledgers from Alaric’s grip,” his aunt said. “After that, nature took care of itself; Willa is an adventurer just like her husband.”

“I would never have guessed,” North said, picturing his civilized sister-in-law. “Thank you for taking on my responsibilities.”

“They weren’t yours, but your father’s. I have no intention of giving them back,” she said, tapping his knee with her fan. “You know how much I love telling people what to do. I took up the sketches you had made for water mills and had them built, by the way. I’ve increased profits by eleven percent in the home estate, and I’m hoping to eke out a few more percentage points in the next years.”

“Brava,” North said.

He was free. The thought sank in slowly. If his aunt truly meant it, he was free. Until he inherited, hopefully a great many years hence, he had no need to stay at home.

Diana and Godfrey wouldn’t be living in the castle. Not that the fact was relevant.

“I just had a letter from Alaric,” his aunt said. “Willa leads him about with a crook of her little finger, but luckily for the marriage, her passion for travel seems to be as great as his.”

He’d always wanted to see the Colosseum. He could be on a boat in a few days. Leaving Diana behind.

“Yes, you ought to travel,” his aunt said, noticing his expression. “Everyone is abroad these days. Did Diana tell you that her cousin Lavinia and her mother moved to Paris?”

He nodded.

“Lavinia conquered the French court as easily as she did the English.” His aunt rarely left the castle, but she could generally be counted on to know any gossip worth repeating.

Prism entered and bowed. “May I offer you refreshment, Lord Roland? Sherry, perhaps, or champagne?”

North glanced at his aunt, who was sipping a glass of liquor that shone like old pennies in the candlelight. “I’ll have the same as my aunt.”

A moment later he held a substantial glass of brandy.

“Prism believes ladies should drink sherry before dinner,” his aunt said, as the door shut behind the butler. “I am a constant disappointment to him.”

“What does Prism think of Diana’s role in the household?”

“I never interfere with domestic matters,” his aunt said, quite untruthfully. To his memory, she was always getting involved with a lovelorn maid—or dropping a new governess into the household without warning. “Diana has turned the household upside down, but he seems to be managing. She’s remarkably impulsive.”