“Well, it’s settled then. I’m sure when Henry sees you, he’ll forget all about that little rat catcher.” She gave Bridget a smug smile and turned back to her cards. “It looks like Lady Matheson has forfeited her hand,” she said. “I believe it’s your turn to play, Rupert.”
Lady Matheson had not moved from the window and did not seem to register when her name was mentioned. She stood, squeezing her empty glass, with her eyes still fixed on the daffodils.
Chapter Eight
Despite Lady Luxton’srudeness, Bridget was secretly pleased that little Henry had taken a liking to Bijou. The child was stuck in a house with grown-ups, and Bijou would make a delightful playmate for him. She knew that Lady Luxton’s comments were only said to injure her.
The truth was, Bridget knew, she resented her relationship with Nate. They had developed a solid friendship built on mutual respect, and perhaps Lady Luxton sensed there was something more between them. There was a strong attraction, at least on Bridget’s part, but she’d pushed it aside. Her grief for her papa and the horrors that had taken place over the summer had stretched her emotions to the limit, and now she was just beginning to process George’s murder. As for Nate, he’d suffered some enormous changes himself. The most important one was discovering that he was a father.
As if that wasn’t enough, he had Lady Luxton to contend with.
Bridget heard Bijou’s bark behind her, and then her terrier tore into the drawing room, wagging his tail and jumping excitedly upon seeing Bridget. She picked up her wriggling pup and kissed him.
Henry entered the drawing room accompanied by his nanny. He wore the same blue linen skeleton suit she’d seen him in earlier. His nanny had attempted to tame his black curls by flattening some of the more stubborn ringlets with water, but she’d had little success. Though a disaster, it made him look even more adorable.
“Henry, darling. You remember Mr. Squires, don’t you?” LadyLuxton stood up and took hold of her son’s hand.
The boy looked up at Nate, who gazed down at him and smiled. They were quite the spitting image of one another.
“How do you do, Henry?” Nate said.
“What do you say?” The child’s nanny prompted.
“Well, thank you, sir,” the child said in an obviously rehearsed line and gave a little bow. Bridget could not stop herself from smiling. In spite of his mother, the child was precious.
“Do you remember when we sailed a boat on the lake?” Nate asked, and Henry nodded. “Would you like to do that again?”
Once again, he nodded.
Bridget swallowed the rising lump in her throat. When Lady Luxton had last departed Villa De Lacey with Henry, vowing never to return, the little boats Nate had fashioned out of paper for his son were all he had left of their time together. He kept a row of them on the window ledge in the office, where Lake Windermere glistened behind the paper vessels.
“Shall we go and find a new boat?” Nate addressed the question to Henry but looked at Lady Luxton as he spoke. Henry nodded but, following Nate’s gaze, glanced up at his mother.
“What a marvelous idea,” Lady Luxton said, her voice unnaturally cheerful. “Go with Mr. Squires and find your boat, dear. Then we’ll all take a walk to the lake together.” She gently directed the child toward Nate and briefly closed her hand around his as he took hold of Henry.
Bridget’s stomach tensed as she watched the scene. Lady Luxton was a master manipulator. She wanted to gain Nate’s trust again only so that she could hurt him later. The woman was like a vampire, gaining her energy by draining it from others.
Bridget turned her attention away from Lady Luxton and back to Nate and his son. Her heart blossomed as she watched Nate leave the room hand-in-hand with Henry. She felt a tear coming, but immediately stiffened when she saw Lady Luxton watching out of the cornerof her eye. Against her better judgment, Bridget turned to face the woman. The corners of Lady Luxton’s mouth turned up in a smug smile before she returned to her seat and picked up her hand of cards.
“Shall we continue, gentlemen?”
Rupert and Charlie had been sitting in silence, and Bridget had almost forgotten they were there. Charlie, she noticed, seemed fixated on Lady Matheson, who still stood by the window staring at what Bridget knew were the daffodils, which had become terrible to look at but too difficult to ignore.
“Are we going to continue to play, gentlemen?” Lady Luxton asked.
“Certainly,” Rupert said and picked up his cards. Charlie turned his head slowly away from Lady Matheson and followed suit.
“Lady Matheson, will you be rejoining the game?” Lady Luxton said.
Lady Matheson blinked and turned away from the window. “I…” She put her hand to her forehead. “I don’t think so. My mind feels quite overcrowded now.”
“Perhaps you’d care to take a walk outside, my lady?” Bridget said.
“Yes, I think I would like that,” she said.
*
“We can avoidthe daffodils if you like,” Bridget said as they stepped outside. She shielded her forehead with her hand as she tried to keep track of Bijou, who’d scampered ahead.
