“But what if he is?!”
“Then we have behaved honorably!”
Lottie took a deep breath.
Of course, now it had all gone sideways.
The doctorwasa cousin. Hewasthe heir presumptive. Freddie likelywouldbe disinherited.
Because what man would relinquish the coronet of a marquess?
Guilt ate at her, particularly in the dead of night when darkness pressed in and anxiety creaked and rattled.
In her attempts to be helpful, Lottie had inadvertently betrayed Freddie. She had added to Margaret’s worry and distress.
The Duke of Ferndown was confident that even if Lords awarded the title to Cousin Alex, they would give some portion of Papa’s entailed estate to Lottie and Margaret. But that was all still milling around in some hypotheticalif.
Heavens, but it was all such a jumble.
Lottie pressed another kiss to Freddie’s head, needing to reassure herself more than anything.
He leaned away, all boy, with a whispered, “No kisses, Tottie. I no baby,” under his breath.
He was growing up too quickly.
What would become of Freddie? What would become of her?
“I hope the doctor does not wish to meet with us before dinner.” Margaret looked at the clock above the mantel. “I imagine he is eager to survey the contents of Frome Abbey for himself.”
Grandmère’s eyebrow made a dramatic appearance at Margaret’s acerbic tone.
Margaret willfully ignored it.
“I hope that you will make yourself agreeable to Lord Nettlesby at dinner, Lottie dearest,” her sister continued. “He leaves tomorrow, and you have not spent more than five minutes in his company.”
Lottie barely stopped a grimace.
Margaret was being rather dense to the obvious—Lottie had manipulated events to ensure she only had to endure Lord Nettlesby’s presence for five minutes at a time.
Nettlesby was an old school chum of Frank’s who visited with more regularity than Lottie would have liked.
She had not been to London in over two years, not since breaking her betrothal to Theo. After all, little Anne had died. And then Cousin Gabriel. And then Papa. And Lottie couldn’t shake the bleakness from her heart.
So because Lottie refused to go to London, Margaret and Frank kept bringing London to her, inviting lordlings to visit with hopes that Lottie would take a liking to one of them. Her sister had particular expectations for Lord Nettlesby.
Lottie hadn’t the heart to tell Margaret that his lordship was decidedlynotfor her.
“Would you mind ringing for the nurse, Lottie?” her sister asked. “I think it time for Freddie to return to the nursery.”
Freddie instantly devolved into wails of despair at being dismissed, clamping his sticky hands around Lottie’s neck.
“I’ll take him, Margaret.” Lottie struggled to her feet, Freddie clinging barnacle-like.
“Be careful not to wrinkle your gown,cherie.” Grandmère raised her lorgnette. “That child has no care for your toilette.”
Lottie managed a smile as she left the room carrying Freddie, though she could feel her sister’s troubled eyes following her out the door.
Alex warmed hishands over the fire and attempted to ignore the sumptuous bedchamber around him.
