Nate snorted. “I have a brother, and I can promise you that I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”
“Really, Nate. Are you still upset about…”
Nate stiffened. “About you having a liaison with my brother while we were betrothed? Not at all. I simply wouldn’t wish something like that on my son. He is better off without a sibling.”
“Well, perhaps I ought to ask your brother for help then. He was quite willing the first time. And who knows, he might even be Henry’s father.”
Nate clenched his fist behind his back. He’d never confronted Edward about his supposed liaison with Helen, nor would he, because he no longer cared. But still, the suggestion of Edward being Henry’s father filled him with rage. “My brother’s wife, the Countess of Westerly, is about to give him an heir, so I hardly think he will be interested in—”
“Lady Westerly is with child? Well, it’s about time. Of course, she can’t know it will be a boy. And if it is a girl, Edward is sure to be disappointed. And disappointed men always turn away from their wives to seek comfort in the arms of another.”
Nate inhaled, trying to restore his calm and block out Helen’s noise. He gazed at his son—for Henrywashis son; he’d felt it instinctively and intuitively the first day he’d held him in his arms eight months ago. Oblivious to and unconcerned with the question of his paternity, Henry threw a stick for Bijou to fetch and giggled when the dog ran after it and snatched it up in his mouth. He was a happy little boy. At least Nate could take comfort in that.
“Are you truly content to be an innkeeper your entire life?” Helen was in front of him again. “Will you give up Henry and me for an infatuation you have with a woman far below your class?”
“I shall never give up Henry. Why do you say such a thing?”
“Think on it,” she said. Then she called for Henry and took him inside.
Nate’s heart drummed in his chest as he watched her go. She’d made her bid to control him through Henry crystal clear.
*
The day aftershe returned from Knaresborough, Bridget walked with Nate along the shores of Lake Windermere. It was a fine morning, and the sun warmed their backs as they strolled beside the sparkling lake, surrounded by lush green fells. Bridget inhaled, reveling in the fresh air. There was a noticeable difference in the air at home than in the bustling market towns of Yorkshire. She would never trade Westmorland for anything. This is where she grew up.Thisis where she belonged.
“Well, that’s quite a turn of events,” Nate said after Bridget had told him everything that had happened in Knaresborough.
“I know.” Bridget sighed. “Yet still, we have nothing that will exonerate Groby. Despite everything we’ve learned about George, Collins, and Lady Matheson.”
“At least we tried. If Groby does hang for this murder, at least we know that we did our best to ensure an innocent man was not wrongly accused. That is all we set out to do. Groby might well have done it after all.”
“My instincts tell me he did not,” Bridget said. “There are too many nefarious actors in this play. We are missing something…I just don’t know what it is.”
Nate stopped walking and took hold of Bridget’s arm. A thrillpassed through her at his touch. She stopped and turned to face him.
“Promise me you won’t punish yourself forever if Groby hangs,” he said.
Bridget lowered her gaze. How could she make such a promise? How could she live with herself if another innocent man lost his life and received a murderer’s burial just like her papa? Groby had been her papa’s friend. He’d been their butcher for over thirty years. And now, his body would be left to rot, hanging in a gibbet for all to see. The injustice of it was intolerable.
“Bridget,” Nate said. “What happened to your papa…it was barbaric, fueled by superstitions. But Groby is different. A man was brutally murdered after Groby swore he would kill him. The court will find him guilty. You must prepare yourself for that. I think when the time comes for him to be hanged, we should leave Westmorland for a month. We will close Villa De Lacey and go somewhere far away. London or Paris. I don’t care where. But I will take you away from here because…well, I cannot bear to see you suffer.” He stroked Bridget’s cheek and leaned forward.
He was going to kiss her again. She remembered the thrilling sensation of his lips brushing against hers, and her body tingled with anticipation. She closed her eyes and felt the softness of his lips on hers.
Then an animal-like shriek pierced the air, and Nate jerked away from her with a mild oath.
“What was that?” Bridget’s heart raced as the screams continued.
“It’s coming from down there.” Nate took off running, and Bridget followed.
As the screamer came into focus, Bridget saw it was Lady Luxton. She stood on the shore, pounding her fists into Rupert’s back. “Do something!” she screamed. “Help him! My son is drowning!”
Bridget looked out to the lake and saw Henry splashing wildly not far from the shore, his little head bobbing up and down.
“Dear God!” Nate said, kicking off his shoes and shrugging out of his tailcoat. He raced into the water.
Bridget held her breath as Nate, who was about shin-deep in the water, pulled Henry out of the lake and lifted the child into his arms. Henry coughed and spluttered, and then started to wail, but appeared to be otherwise unharmed.
Bridget breathed a sigh of relief. Henry had been close enough to the shore that he’d likely lost his balance but had been able to hold his head up for most of his ordeal. He had, however, swallowed a lot of water from the sound of his coughing and gagging.
