“And your fortune would continue to do so after you are dead.”
Why, oh, why did spiteful words keep slipping from her mouth? She wasn’t usually such a harpy, but arguing made it easier to conceal her fear. He could make them leave.
“I am glad to see I married such a docile model of womanhood.” His sarcasm sharpened her already bad temper. Then his gaze narrowed on the children. “Who are they?”
Emily’s defenses rose up. “Our children.”
“I believe I would have remembered, had I fathered any children.”
“They belong to my brother. You are their guardian.”
“Their guardian?”
Emily cast him a sharp look, praying she could stop him from saying more in front of the children. It would break Royce’s heart to learn of his father’s death. “We will speak of Daniel later.”
“Where is their nursemaid?”
“I don’t want a nurse,” Royce interrupted. “I want Aunt Emily.”
“Royce, now, you see—“ Emily tried to placate him, but he refused.
“I don’t want one!” he shrieked, throwing a tin soldier on the floor.
Emily knew what was about to happen. “Here.” She stood and thrust her niece into the earl’s arms. He took the baby, holding Victoria at arm’s length as though she had a dreaded disease.
She knelt down beside Royce, trying to reason with him. “Shh, now. There, there. We won’t be getting a nurse. You needn’t worry.”
“Papa will come soon,” Royce said, his face determined. “He will take us away from here.” With a defiant scowl toward Lord Whitmore, the boy let her comfort him.
The guilty burden grew heavier. She couldn’t keep Daniel’s death from Royce much longer.
“Emily—“ There was a note of alarm in Whitmore’s voice. Immediately, she released Royce and went to the earl. She took the baby just as Whitmore’s knees buckled and he collapsed against the door frame. He bit back a moan of pain, and blood darkened the bandage around his scalp.
Quickly, she placed the baby back in the cradle, ignoring Victoria’s wails of protest.
“Help!” she called out, hoping a servant would hear her. “Someone, come quickly!”
She knelt beside the earl, supporting his weight with her arms. The flicker of a smile played at his mouth.
“So, you decided not to let me die after all,” he whispered.
His eyes closed, and she muttered, “The day isn’t over yet.”
Stephen was not certain how much worse his life could get. He had a so-called wife who despised him, two unexpected children, and no memory of the past three months. This last aspect was the worst, and so he had summoned the butler Farnsworth to find the answers he needed.
He struggled to sit up in bed, though the effort made him dizzy. Farnsworth arrived at last, clearing his throat to announce his presence. The butler had a fringe of greying hair around a bald spot and his cheeks were ruddy and clean-shaven.
“Tell me what happened the night I returned,” Stephen prompted.
“My lord, I fear there is little to tell. It happened two nights ago.”
“Who brought me here?”
“It was a hired coach. He didn’t know who you were. His instructions were only to deliver you to the door.”
“Did he say who had arranged for my travel?”
“You did, my lord. The coachman was an irritable sort, being as it was the middle of the night, and he insisted on being paid his fee immediately.”
