Of course, Lark was just as high profile as any of these men. Lark was a direct descendant of Edward III’s son John of Gaunt, and thus a descendant of William the Conqueror, and he was somewhere deep in the line of succession. His father was the powerful Duke of Beaufort, a kind but strong-willed man whom Lark was fairly certain would outlive everyone. Thus Lark had yet to inherit the title he knew would come to him and that he felt a certain amount of obligation toward, but he also had a younger brother who would happily give the title to his son.
It meant, though, that all of society knew who Lark was. His family was prominent enough, and enough of his cousins were married to minor royals, that he could probably get away with more than he thought, that his money and his title could make a lot of accusations go away. He just didn’t want the attention or risk. He didn’t want to be made an example of. He didn’t want to be Charlie Ingle.
Society knew that Lark and Anthony were friends. It wouldn’t be odd for him to call on a friend.
He walked up the stoop of Anthony’s town house and rang the bell. The butler let him right in and murmured, “My lord is in the nursery.”
Lark took that to mean he should go up there. Lark had been here enough recently that he knew the staff and his way around his house, so he took a deep breath and ascended the stairs.
He found Anthony sitting in a rocking chair with his back to the door. He didn’t appear to hear Lark approach, despite the creak in one of the boards at the top of the stairs. Instead, he was rocking the baby and singing softly.
It would never cease to surprise Lark that Anthony had taken to fatherhood this way. A year ago, this man had wanted children even less than he wanted to get married. But now, here he was, singing to his infant son.
Lark took in the sight, since he had at least a moment before Anthony noticed he was there. The problem with all of this was that Lark loved this man, and loving this man had changed the entire trajectory of his life. Lark had pressured Anthony into getting married because he didn’t have the strength to commit to a marriage himself, not when he loved Anthony as much as he did. It wasn’t a matter of his sexual proclivities; he was attracted to women as well and had always imagined he’d marry one. But he couldn’t do that now.
So what would he do instead? It wasn’t like he could move in here, or marry Anthony, or even let word of this affair leak out to the public. He supposed they could carry on in separate residences, and Anthony might be more willing to spend nights together when Henry was older.
Or they could go somewhere more discreet.
Anthony had an entailed estate in the countryside, in Kent, and it was far enough from civilization that no one would think it odd if Lark accompanied him, perhaps to assist with his business affairs—they were friends, after all—or even because achild could always use another father figure. A kind uncle who taught him…manly things. Lark wasn’t sure what those would be. How to ride a horse, perhaps. How to dance. How to treat a lady.
Was Lark actually contemplating leaving London so that he and Anthony could raise Henry together?
Well, Lark was clearly losing his mind. Enough woolgathering. He cleared his throat.
Anthony started and turned around.
“Lark. How long have you been standing there?”
“I don’t know. A few minutes. Long enough to hear you sing.”
Anthony used his legs to rotate the chair to face Lark. He remained seating and continued to rock the baby. “I’d be embarrassed, but you’ve heard me sing plenty.”
Lark walked into the room. “Indeed. At breakfast when the conversation lulls. In the bath. When you’re puttering around your house and think no one is listening. And, apparently, to your son.”
“He seems to like it. It calms him down when he…grows ornery.”
“Ornery?”
“Sometimes, he gets this fierce look on his face right before he lets out a yowl that will pierce your ears, and even when you make sure all of his needs are attended to, still he screams. It takes a lot to get him to calm down. I find rocking and singing helps.”
“An important discovery.” Anthony seemed to be alone. “Where is Mrs. Church?”
“She’s having dinner with her family. I gave her the afternoon off.”
“I’m amazed you have not hired a legion of staff to attend to the baby.”
“I gave that some thought, and I decided that, because he’s my family, I wanted to try to be as good a father as I could. My father wasn’t around much, but I want to be here for little Henry.”
“That’s admirable.”
“Admirable and stupid. You were not here a half hour ago. This little man has a good pair of lungs on him. I had no idea what to do. Mrs. Church should be able to take time off as needed, but I need another person here to help when she does.”
“Funny you should mention that.”
“Do you perhaps have a nanny in your pocket?”
“No, but I’ve been thinking.”
