The Bridegroom and the Baby by Marcy Stewart

Author:Marcy Stewart [Stewart, Marcy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 2018-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Word of the viscount’s accident spread quickly, and by eleven o’clock on the following day, Lord Ambrose had entertained several unexpected visitors. “Curiosity-seekers,” he told Madeleine after Mr. Tanberry, a gentleman farmer who lived nearby, departed. “All they want are the grisly details, so they can spread rumors and feel important in doing so.”

For the moment, they were alone in the library. Mr. Brandt was outdoors. Antonia, walking slowly but unaided, had gone upstairs to change for luncheon, with Thomas accompanying her. Madeleine sat alone on the settee, and Lord Ambrose sprawled in the chair opposite, his leg stretched upon an ottoman. She knew his limb pained him, for he walked very stiffly today, but one could make allowances for only so much.

“You’re very cynical, Ethan. Sometimes I despair of you.”

“Don’t, fair lady; you’re my only hope.” His smile faltered as he plucked a piece of lint from his cuff. “I’ve not seen even one of today’s guests since Lucan’s funeral. They are like vultures, only around when the scent of disaster is in the air. Although why that should surprise me when the majority still suspect me of doing in my brother, I don’t know.”

“Have you visited any of them?” she challenged.

His eyes narrowed dangerously, making her heart accelerate even though she knew he was playing. “How boldly you strike, Miss Murrow. I stand before you guilty as charged. What sentence do you decree?”

She dared not answer what she was thinking, that she would favor a kiss above everything. Even his bad- temperedness could not put her off, because the delicious spark in his eyes showed he did not mean half of what he said. Besides, he had a right to be vexed; he could have lost his life yesterday, and from all appearances, someone wanted to kill or at least hurt him. And he still mourned his brother; she often caught the bleak look in his eyes when he forgot himself.

He was a complex man, the viscount, and not an easy one. But he excited her, and she could think of nothing more pleasing than kissing him at this very moment.

A fine idea, that. All her father needed was to return and find them so occupied; he could hardly maintain civility to Ethan as it was. Best to change the subject, she decided.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t mentioned the rope to anyone.”

“There’s no use in that. If someone intended harm, he would hardly confess.”

“But if the rope was left there unintentionally, perhaps someone would step forward and solve the mystery.”

“Oh, certainly, just as they did for my brother’s accident.”

His eyes grew distant and troubled. She decided to stir him from further morbid reveries about his twin.

“Have you any further ideas for finding Dorrie’s mother?”

“I thought you decided she belongs to that woman I hired yesterday. My pardon, but it seems too much the melodrama to me—the fallen mother hired to serve her child. Too trite by far.”

“Very well,” she said, irked at his criticism of her deductive powers. “Then how will you proceed?”

“My first plan is to recover full use of my leg.

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