“You like the old ways?”
“I think a man short of money shouldn’t be considering expensive renovations.”
“Genova, sweetheart, don’t nag.”
A footman arrived and duly went off to find the marquess. They waited in silence, then. The Irish couple, relaxing, leaned close and murmured. Sheena began to smile and dabbed her eyes with her apron. Genova guessed they were beginning to plan their future, and longed to be doing the same thing.
Perhaps if she and Ash had made love, it would have changed his mind. But she’d never take that route to marriage.
When Rothgar came in, he looked around the room. “What have we here?”
In an attempt at a cool manner, Ash gestured to the Irish couple. “Mr. Lawrence Carr and Miss Sheena O’Leary, lovers, parents, now happily united. I thought it best to inform you.”
“Parents?”
“Parents of the baby we arrived with. Charlie Carr, I assume we should call him now.” Ash told the story.
“So Molly Carew was never with child. I felicitate you, Cousin.”
Ash inclined his head. “It seems best to let the lad stay. In the stables with the grooms, perhaps?”
“We could build a bower in the hall and have a livingpresepe.” But Rothgar was teasing. “Of course he may stay. Perhaps Mr. Carr might like to see his son before he leaves the house?”
Lawrence Carr bowed, touching his forelock. “Indeed I would, milord.”
Rothgar turned to Genova. “Perhaps you could bring the infant down, Miss Smith. Mrs. Harbinger dislikes strangers in her domain, and Miss O’Leary looks a little unsteady still.”
In fact, Sheena did not look deliriously happy. She was clinging to her lover’s hand, but she looked as if the blow was yet to fall. Was there more to tell?
Genova hurried to the nurseries, wondering if Mrs.Harbinger would welcome Charlie back when she knew he was Sheena’s own child.
When Genova told the nursery governess the gist of the story, however, Mrs. Harbinger nodded. “I had begun to suspect as much, Miss Smith, and was in something of a puzzle over what to do about it. Strange goings-on.”
She led Genova into the nursery where only one cradle remained, and scooped out the sleeping baby. She wrapped him in an extra blanket and passed him over. Genova carried him away, thinking she knew Sheena’s concern. Life in her village was probably simple and poor, and having tasted better, she might want better for her child.
Genova navigated the stairs with care, since a baby and hooped skirts was a challenge. Distant music told that the Christmas revelry continued—a celebration all to do with a baby. Charlie stirred, his mouth working for a moment.
“Don’t cry for food yet,” Genova told him. “Especially since Lord Rothgar might still be there.”
He settled, and she hummed thepresepesong to keep him happy. She entered the room to find Ash alone with Sheena and Lawrence in a tense silence.
It broke as soon as Genova gave the baby to Sheena. Lawrence’s open delight, the eagerness with which he took Charlie into his arms, eased some of Genova’s concerns. But the story wouldn’t end until they were comfortably settled somewhere.
Rothgar returned with a servant who was to take Lawrence to the grooms’ area above the stables. As soon as he started to leave, Sheena clung to him, crying.
Genova had Lawrence explain to the girl. Sheena reluctantly let him go and left to return to the nurseries, but as if tragedy weighed on her head.
“I feel like a Capulet or Montague,” Ash said. “I hope you’ve locked away the poison, Rothgar.”
“This abbey is clear of meddling monks, at least. What will you do now?”
Ash moved around the room, pausing at the table holding decanters. “May I offer you some of your own brandy?”
Rothgar smiled and declined.
“It would be useful to find Molly and confront her with her sins, but perhaps cruel to make her confess them in public.”
“You’re more compassionate than I am,” Rothgar said. “May I be of service in presenting this evidence to the king? I believe he would find this tale of Irish lovers interesting, perhaps even touching, if told aright. He could be persuaded that he has been less than just. It would be wise to marry, though. Kings hate to have it obvious that they have changed their mind.”
