Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(33)

“How so?”

“Last summer, she decided the children should have the experience of caring for a pet—this was when your younger siblings were on leave from school—so she brought a young goat into the schoolroom.”

“And?”

“He remained in the castle for two days, in which time he managed to eat the wardrobe belonging to Artie’s doll, three pairs of slippers, the schoolroom curtains, a hearth rug, several nappies, and a few prints of Lord Wilde’s adventures.”

No wonder Diana had sewn a nightdress for Artie’s doll. That might explain the ugly shoes Diana was wearing as well.

“Moreover, when your brothers were home from Eton last August, Diana had the idea of taking them to the country fair. They played the coconut shy until they won a sow and all ten piglets.”

“Impressive.”

“Diana had given them an impromptu lesson the afternoon before, using turnips. The boys decided they needed more practice, so in the evening they absconded with the melons Buckle was growing under glass. Many of them split, naturally enough, and Buckle was not pleased.”

North laughed.

“The boys wanted to keep one of the piglets, but Diana persuaded them to give the sow and her piglets to Buckle.”

“Who paid for the coconuts?” North asked.

“Diana,” his aunt said. “The boys repaid her out of their pocket money, but Diana also bought flowers for the housekeeper when she was ill. She bought a potion from a Gypsy that was meant to cure one of the footmen’s toothache.”

“Did it work?”

“It did not. She bought a lace collar for Agnes, the second housemaid who is courting, and a blue Dresden bowl for the castle butcher, on the occasion of his marriage.”

“She doesn’t understand money,” North said.

“Not unusual in a young lady,” his aunt commented.

“What do you know about her sister Rose?”

Lady Knowe took a sip of brandy. “Since I knew that Godfrey couldn’t be yours, I hired a Bow Street Runner to investigate. At some point that boy is going to want to know who his father was and why he is not playing a role in his life. Rose Belgrave became a mother at fifteen years old.”

Fifteen was shockingly young to bear a child, although young ladies often were affianced at that age.

“Godfrey’s father, Archibald Ewing, was the only son in a family that was here before the Norman kings, with estates in Scotland and England,” his aunt continued. “Barring an inebriated coachman, Archibald would have become the Laird of Fennis. Do you know who is definitely going to be the laird?” She tipped up her glass and finished it.

North frowned. “Surely not.”

“Illegitimacy is not grounds for disinheritance in Scotland,” his aunt said. “The eldest male inherits. Godfrey will be the laird someday.”

They sat in silence for a moment. “Why haven’t you told Godfrey’s remaining relatives of his existence? Presumably they have no idea.”

“I decided against it. I haven’t said a word to Diana either.”

“Why not?”

“An heir who can’t speak? Better to be an illegitimate scion of the Wildes than a laird who can’t lead his clan. I am hopeful that Godfrey will talk eventually. Horatius didn’t bother to speak until he was three. One day your nanny came shrieking downstairs to report that he had informed her that the soup was cold and should be returned to the kitchen.”

“He was a stiff-rumped fellow, wasn’t he?”

“Came out of the womb a little duke.” Her voice didn’t wobble or break, but her eyes grew shiny.

“I am glad you brought Diana here,” North said, taking his aunt’s hand. “I’ll take care of her from now on.”

“I doubt she’ll accept your help. She’s as stubborn and proud as you are, and that’s really saying something.”

North’s jaw clenched. She would accept his help. He’d make bloody sure that she was safely housed, with servants he would choose.

Prism reappeared in the doorway, signaling that the evening meal awaited them.

“Your father sent a groom ahead; he should arrive tomorrow,” his aunt said, rising. “I want to hear about your military service tonight.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand.

North bit back his instinctive refusal.

His aunt tucked an arm through his. “Keeping it to yourself won’t help,” she said briskly. “Tomorrow morning we’ll go around the estate on horseback, so you can see the improvements I’ve made. Perhaps hunting the day after. The partridges have become so numerous that they’re fluttering out in the road and startling the horses. Two or three days of good shooting and we’ll have enough to give one bird to every tenant.”

North grunted. She was trying to ensure that he slept, but exertion had no effect on his nightmares. The only thing that had helped, he thought with bemusement, was a plate of toast and honey.

“Do you have any of those prints of me?” he asked. “I’ve only seen one, and I’m curious.”

“Leonidas brought home a few at Christmas.”

“And?”

“Not as bad as they could be.” His aunt patted his arm, smiling mischievously. “You figure as the devil incarnate in high heels. All the prints purport to warn of the nobility’s wicked ways, so every young woman in the kingdom is collecting them feverishly, and nightly dreaming of conquering your cruel heart.”