“Indeed. And their actions have greatly upset Lady Matheson, who has taken to locking herself in her room.”
“This will not do,” Nate said. “I shall have to put an end to itimmediately.”
“I should say so,” Bridget said.
“It has also upset Rupert and Charlie a great deal.”
“Rupert and Charlie are not our guests, so why is that a concern?” Nate asked.
“But they are our guests. They’ve moved in.”
“Moved in?” Bridget said with a gasp. “Do you mean to say they’ve abandoned their cottage?”
“Oh, yes. They cannot afford to stay there anymore, what with the loss of Mr. Otis and his share of the rent.”
“If that’s the case, then they definitely can’t afford our rates,” Nate said.
“Oh, but we can’t throw them out onto the streets,” Bridget said. “After all, their friend was murdered on our property.”
“Payment is not a concern,” Jane said. “Lady Luxton is paying for their keep.”
“Lady Luxton?” Nate exclaimed, his voice sounding both surprised and relieved. “So, she is still here?” Bridget saw some of the tension leave Nate’s body. He likely knew the day would come when Lady Luxton would take Henry away again, and his chances of seeing the child after that would be filled with uncertainty.
“Oh, very much so,” Jane said. “You might say she was running the villa in your absence, the way she took to ordering the servants.”
Bridget’s chest tightened. Lady Luxton was obviously quite bored at home with her husband and so had decided to become mistress of Villa De Lacey. “Well,” she said frostily, “We’d best get inside and put an end to these shenanigans, which seem to be disturbing the peace of our guests.”
*
Nate’s priority uponhis return was to see his son. But he was sorelydisappointed when he approached Helen and asked if he could spend a little time with Henry.
“Rupert and I are taking Henry to the lake,” she said.
“Rupert?” Nate asked, unable to keep the irritation from his voice.
“Yes. Henry adores him.”
“Well, I can see why. That poet is but a mere child himself.”
“He is no child”—she gave him a coy smile—“that much I can assure you.”
Nate felt the tension in his jaw as he bit back his retort. “What about tomorrow?” he said as amiably as he could manage.
“Why is it you want to see him now? You have shown no interest in days.”
“I’ve been in York. I thought you knew.”
“Yes, of course,” she drawled, and Nate saw a flash of malice in her eyes. “Am I expected to arrange my time around your little excursions with your blond orphan? If Henry were your priority, you would remain here for the short time he is present. It won’t be long before I take him back to Lochmaben. His papa misses him terribly, you know.”
Nate swallowed the sorrow that rose in his throat. Perhaps Helen was right. He knew Henry would only be at Villa De Lacey for a short time, yet he’d spent three days in York investigating a murder that, as far as the magistrate was concerned, was already solved. Still, he could not allow Helen’s manipulation and attempt to control him to continue. She was still trying to punish him for rejecting her the previous year. Rejection was not something Helen could accept. She wanted every man in her path—even those she’d discarded—to worship her.
“It’s just as well,” Nate said, suppressing the ache in his chest, “I have busy days ahead. Good day to you, Lady Luxton.” Then he turned on his heels before she could say more and walked in the opposite direction.
Thrown off course by his encounter with Helen, Nate strode aimlessly forward and almost collided with Mr. Angert’s valet, who was carrying his master’s easel and painting utensils out to the garden.
“Excuse me, sir,” the man said in a thick German accent.
Nate stopped. He’d almost forgotten about Angert and his blasted paintings. “Where is your master?” he inquired.
