Eliza shook her head. “Her aunt will not permit it.”
“Will you ask her?”
“I must take Bijou for his walk.”
“Of course,” Nate said. “You can ask her when you return.”
Eliza narrowed her dark eyes and put Bijou down. The little white terrier wagged his tail and shot across the hallway toward the front door.
“Bijou, heel!” the maid ordered, scurrying to catch up with him. Then she picked him up and turned, heading toward the servants’ exit. As she passed Nate again, he could have sworn he heard her mumble, “Curse you!”
“Goodness, it seems to me your housemaids have the run of the inn,” Helen said, sweeping across the foyer. She stopped next to the front door and gave him an imperious look. “Am I to open the door myself?”
The gentleman in Nate would not allow him to ignore the lady, so he followed, despite knowing that he should turn and walk the other way.
Helen waited for him to open the front door. As soon as he did, astately black coach came to a halt in front of the house. Her haughty attitude disappeared as she rushed outside.
“It’s him. My Henry is here.” She lifted her skirts to hurry across the portico and down the steps.
Nate stood by the door, watching as a middle-aged woman stepped out of the carriage carrying a young boy. The child clutched his nanny’s dress with both fists and wailed as his mother attempted to take him from the woman.
“Do put him down, Miss Eagleton. You baby him too much.”
The nanny put the child down, but he clung to her skirt and cried. “I think he’s tired, my lady. It’s been a long journey for him.”
“Oh, Henry!” Helen said. “I’ve spent too much time away from you, haven’t I?” She picked up the child and murmured something in his ear while gently swaying two and fro. The little lad was soon placated. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and laid his head on his mother’s shoulder.
Nate’s heart wrenched. He’d harbored so much anger toward Helen for so long that the warm sensation he felt upon seeing her hold her child unnerved him. Despite wanting to let go, he could not turn away. If this child—Henry—belonged to him, he would not be able to walk away from Helen.
He held his breath as Helen ascended the steps leading to the house with Henry in her arms. Nate wavered, torn between wanting a closer look at the child and needing to keep his distance from Helen. Before he could think to move, Helen was upon him with the child. She stepped inside and said, “Henry is tired. He’ll need to get settled in his room as soon as possible.”
“Of course.” He pulled the bell cord to summon one of the maids. “Someone will be here shortly to see to the room.” He glanced at the child—a sweet-faced little boy with large, dark eyes like his mother’s, thick dark curls, and plump, rosy lips.
Nate’s chest contracted.Could he be mine?
His thoughts were interrupted when Abigail appeared at his side.
“You rang, sir.” She curtsied.
“Lady Luxton’s son and his nanny have arrived. Show them to one of the empty rooms upstairs. Then fetch the footman to see to their luggage.”
“Yes, sir,” Abigail said, and Nate was pleased to see that his earlier lecture had not fallen on deaf ears.
“Nathaniel, darling, do be a friend and carry Henry upstairs for me. He’s getting awfully heavy.” Before Nate could object, she thrust the child into his arms. Surprisingly, the exhausted little lad didn’t resist. He simply snuggled in the crook of Nate’s neck and stuck his thumb back into his mouth. An odd mixture of tenderness and fear consumed him. He both wanted to embrace the child and give him back to his mother at the same time.
“I think he likes you,” Lady Luxton said.
“Where is Lord Luxton? Shall I take to boy to him?”
“Oh, dear, no. Lord Luxton is having a nap. He has little patience for children and needs his rest. Henry’s quite comfortable in your arms, don’t you think?”
The child shifted and made a soft sucking sound, which tore at Nate’s heart. He placed a gentle hand on the child’s back and carried him upstairs to a room that housed two single beds.
“Will this do, my lady?” Abigail asked. And Nate was impressed with her polite demeanor, again pleased that she’d taken his warning seriously.
“Put Henry on the bed,” Helen instructed Nate. “Gently, now. You don’t want to wake him.”
As Nate lay Henry on the bed, the child’s eyelids fluttered open briefly before closing again. His beautiful, long, dark lashes were so like his mother’s that watching him took Nate back to the days when he used to gaze lovingly at Helen as she slept. And the memory brought another wrenching twist to his heart.
