“You’re not hearing me. What I’m saying is I don’t believe Collins and Mrs. Groby to be recent friends. I believe they’ve known each other for a while—more than three years, I’d say.”
“Three years,” she repeated, finally realizing what Nate was talking about. “Then…you believe that Collins is Edmund Groby’s father?”
“I’m certain of it.”
“But how…how can you be certain?”
“I told you. I saw the way he looked at the boy, and…well, a father knows these things. His love for the boy was transparent. I thought you saw it too.”
Bridget fell silent as she digested Nate’s words. She hadn’t noticed anything different about Collins’s interaction with Edmund, and she wondered if Nate’s theory was prompted by something more personal. He missed Henry; she knew as much. Perhaps his longing for his son had led him to jump to this new conclusion.
“Bridget?’ he said. “Do you understand what this means? If we can prove that Collins and Mrs. Groby have a long history together, then there is a very good chance that the two of them conspired to get rid of Groby.”
“It would certainly complicate things and raise a lot of questions,” Bridget said, her mind still on Henry and Lady Luxton. It was time tobreak the news to Nate. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was too excited about his new theory to let go of it.
“We shall have to do some digging into their pasts,” Nate said. “But where would we start? In Collins’s hometown of York, I think,” he said, answering his own question. “Someone there must know something. And haven’t there been rumors about Mrs. Groby’s past—I believe I heard something about Groby rescuing her from a cruel father or some such bad situation?”
“Yes,” Bridget said. “People have always gossiped and speculated about why such a pretty young woman would marry a gruff old butcher like Groby.”
“Well, it’s a good question. Why do you think she married him?”
“I don’t know. I stay away from gossip, especially after Papa.”
“If this is all getting too much for you, I can—”
“No, it’s not that at all.” She worried her lower lip.
“Then what is it?” Nate said. “You seem…has something upset you?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.” She swallowed. “I didn’t come to town to visit Mrs. Groby. I came to find you.”
“But you had biscuits for the children,” he said.
“I know. I intended to visit Mrs. Groby, but I needed to find you first.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Nate said. “It was a most informative visit.”
“You don’t understand. Something happened before I came to find you,” Bridget said, the knot in her stomach growing. “Something you need to know about.”
Nate pulled on his gelding’s reins, and the horse slowed and then stopped. “I’m not following. What happened?”
Bridget stopped her mare and faced him. “A new guest arrived this morning—two guests, actually.”
Nate frowned. “Unexpected guests?”
“That’s right.” Bridget dropped her gaze to her gloved hands. Suddenly, she felt deeply ashamed that she had not told Nate sooner. She’d made the wrong decision. She had no right to make him wait to see his son. And why had she waited? Was it because she wanted to keep him to herself just a little bit longer?
“Well, we have a few chambers available. You were able to accommodate them, I assume?”
Bridget nodded again, still without looking up.
“I don’t see a problem. Who are the guests?”
She lifted her gaze and met Nate’s deep blue eyes. “It’s Lady Luxton and Henry.”
*
Nate felt thecolor drain from his face. His former betrothed, Helen Morley, now Lady Luxton, had sworn never to let him see his son again, and it had crushed his heart. That had been eight months ago. Eight long months.
