“But I’m going to play marbles with Mr. Ravenel,” the boy protested.
“Not with all the guests arriving,” she countered. “This poor gentleman has much to do. We’re going to settle in our rooms.”
Justin frowned. “Do I have to stay in the nursery? With the babies?”
“Darling, you’re four years old—”
“Almost five!”
Her lips quirked. There was a wealth of interest and empathy in the gaze she bent on her small son. “You may stay in my room, if you like,” she offered.
The child was appalled by the suggestion. “I can’t sleep in your room,” he said indignantly.
“Why not?”
“People might think we were married!”
West concentrated on a distant spot on the floor, struggling to hold back a laugh. When he was able, he took a steadying breath and risked a glance at Lady Clare. To his secret delight, she appeared to be considering the point as if it were entirely valid.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she said. “I suppose it will have to be the nursery, then. Shall we go look for Nanny and Stephen?”
The boy heaved a sigh and reached up for her hand. Looking up at West, he explained, “Stephen is my baby brother. He can’t talk, and he smells like rotten turtles.”
“Not all the time,” Lady Clare protested.
Justin only shook his head, as if the point weren’t worth debating.
Charmed by the easy communication between the two, West couldn’t help comparing it to the stilted exchanges he’d had with his own mother, who had always seemed to regard her offspring as if they were someone else’s children who were bothering her.
“There are far worse smells than a baby brother,” West told the boy. “Sometime during your visit, I’ll show you foulest-smelling thing on the estate home farm.”
“What is it?” Justin demanded in excitement.
West grinned at him. “You’ll have to wait to find out.”
Looking troubled, Lady Clare said, “You’re very kind, Mr. Ravenel, but we won’t hold you to that promise. I’m sure you’ll be quite busy. We wouldn’t wish to impose.”
More surprised than offended by the refusal, West replied slowly, “As you wish, my lady.”
Seeming relieved, she curtseyed gracefully and whisked her son away as if they were escaping something.
Baffled, West stared after her. This wasn’t the first time a highly respectable woman had given him the cold shoulder. But it was the first time it had ever stung.
Lady Clare must know about his reputation. His past had been rife with more episodes of debauchery and drunkenness than most men under the age of thirty could ever hope to claim. He could hardly blame Lady Clare for wanting to keep her impressionable child away from him. God knew he would never want to be responsible for ruining a fledgling human being.
Sighing inwardly, West resigned himself to keeping his mouth shut and avoiding Challons during the next few days. Which wouldn’t be easy, since the house was bloody full of them. After the newly wedded couple’s departure, the bridegroom’s family would stay on for at least three or four more days. The duke and duchess intended to take advantage of the opportunity to spend time with some old friends and acquaintances in Hampshire. There would be luncheons, dinners, excursions, parties and picnics, and long nights of parlor entertainments and conversation.
Naturally all this would have to take place at the beginning of summer, when the estate farms were in a ferment of activity. At least the work gave West a justifiable reason to spend most of his time away from the house. And as far from Lady Clare as possible.
“Why are you standing here dumbfloundering?” a female voice demanded.
Torn from his thoughts, West glanced down at his pretty dark-haired cousin, Lady Pandora Ravenel.
Pandora was an unconventional girl: impulsive, intelligent, and usually filled with more energy than she seemed able to manage. Of all three Ravenel sisters, she had been the least likely to marry the most eligible bachelor in England. However, it spoke well of Gabriel, Lord St. Vincent, that he was able to appreciate her. In fact, from all accounts, St. Vincent had gone head over heels for her.
“Is there something you’d like me to do?” West asked Pandora blandly.
“Yes, I want to introduce you to my fiancé, so you can tell me what you think of him.”
“Sweetheart, St. Vincent is the heir to a dukedom, with a large fortune at his disposal. I already find him wildly enchanting.”
“I saw you talking to his sister, Lady Clare, just now. She’s a widow. You should court her before someone else snaps her up.”
West’s mouth curled in a humorless smile at the suggestion. He might have an illustrious family name, but he had neither fortune nor lands of his own. Moreover, the shadow of his former life was inescapable. Here in Hampshire, he’d made a new start among people who didn’t give a rag for London society gossip. But to the Challons, he was a man of ruined character. A ne’er do well.
And Lady Claire was the ultimate prize: young, wealthy, beautiful, the widowed mother of an heir to a viscountcy and a landed estate. Every eligible man in England would pursue her.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Courting sometimes has the unpleasant side effect of marriage.”
“But you’ve said before that you’d like to see the house filled with children.”
“Yes, other people’s children. Since my brother and his wife are ably supplying the world with more Ravenels, I’m off the hook.”
“Still, I think you should at least become acquainted with Phoebe.”
“Is that her name?” West asked with reluctant interest.
“Yes, after a cheerful little songbird that lives in the Americas.”
“The woman I just met,” West said, “is not a cheerful little songbird.”
“Lord St. Vincent says Phoebe is affectionate and even a bit flirtiddly by nature, but she still feels the loss of her husband very deeply.”