“Yes.”
“That’s… unfortunate.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“But why him?” Sebastian shook his hair widely.
“It adds up. The timing. The secrecy. And—” Edward exhaled through his nose. “Simon was the only one entangled in half a dozen affairs last Season. One of them ended abruptly just before the child appeared. Too neat a coincidence for my liking.”
“Have you asked him?”
“No.” Edward hesitated. “Not until I’m certain.”
“Why?”
He looked at Sebastian for a long moment. “Because accusing a cousin is dangerous. And because I’m afraid Bea—Miss Verity might write about it.”
Sebastian whistled. “You married Miss Verity. Truly, you do not fear God.”
Edward sighed. “I can’t ruin Simon without proof, and I can’t risk Beatrice getting dragged into it.”
Sebastian grinned again. “Ah, yes. Protecting her. Fascinating.”
Edward threw his towel at him.
Sebastian dodged it easily. “What? I’m merely making an observation.”
“Loudly.”
“Of course, loudly. Someone has to comment on the tragedy of Wrexford falling in love before he’s ready for it.”
Edward shot him a glare. “I am not?—”
“Oh, spare me,” Sebastian scoffed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You want your wife. And if you’re smart, you’ll stop pretending otherwise.”
Edward said nothing. He wiped a forearm across his brow, his breathing steadier now, but his pulse still annoyingly quick.
He braced one hand on the edge of the table, lowering his head. The room smelled of leather, sweat, and chalk dust, but all he could think of was lavender soap and the faint warmth of Beatrice’s skin when she leaned down to settle the baby in her cradle.
And that moment. God help him, that moment when she had turned in the dimly lit nursery, her hair mussed from sleep, her robe falling loosely at her collarbone. She had smiled—smiled athim—because he had cursed under his breath.
When he had stepped closer, he had meant to say something light. Something harmless. Instead, he had almost?—
“Edward!”
He jerked upright.
Sebastian stood a few feet away, toweling the back of his neck, his eyebrows raised. “I swear,” he drawled, “if you drift off thinking about your wife one more time, I’ll?—”
“Don’t,” Edward warned, shooting him a look.
Sebastian laughed, hands lifting in quick surrender. “All right, all right. Not a word.” He slung the towel over his shoulder, his grin widening. “Come on. Let’s return to the ladies beforeMargaret starts imagining we’ve killed each other out of masculine stupidity.”
Edward huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “She wouldn’t be wrong.”
“True,” Sebastian said cheerfully, clapping him once on the shoulder. “But she’d prefer you alive. Beatrice, too, if we’re being honest.”
Edward didn’t respond, but the thought of seeing Beatrice again thrilled him more than he cared to admit.
