“Where’s Nathan?”
“Hidin’. Under the table, sir.”
He frowned. “Why is he hiding?”
“’Tis his new game.”
“Oh.”
She turned a cheeky grin on him. “He likes to be found. Try it.”
Oh, the indignities. Harlowe looked at the round table in the corner, meandered over, and went down on one knee. He looked over his shoulder at Molly.
She gave him an encouraging nod.
He felt silly, but he leaned down and peered underneath and was met with a squeal of giggles. They filled the room with sweet innocence.
Nathan crawled out, rose on pudgy legs, waddled over to Molly, and threw himself in her arms.
She looked up Harlowe, her gaze uncertain. “Would you care to, er, hold him, milord?”
“Hold him?”
“Perhaps ye could take him so I can get to me feet?”
“Oh. Uh, certainly.” With an awkward bend of his body, he took Nathan. Unsure at what to do with the boy, he held him mid-air with arms outstretched.
“Milord, ye can set him at yer hip. He won’t break.”
Harlowe did as she instructed and Nathan’s tiny arms encircled his neck. The baby leaned forward with an open mouth and pressed it against Harlowe’s cheek, leaving what felt like a wet drool. His head jerked back. “What’s he doing?”
Molly came to her feet, grinning. “That is Nathan kissin’ ye. He’s an affectionate babe.”
Something unfurled in his chest. For a child, Nathan was sturdy and loving. The thought pleased him. Just then something warm and damp seeped through his wrinkled waistcoat and down his hip.
The maid slapped a hand over her mouth but couldn’t hide her mirth. “Oh dear.”
Nathan clapped both palms on Harlowe’s cheeks with a joyful squeal.
“Oh dear, indeed,” he said, grimacing, then unable to hold back, felt the laughter burst forth.
Twenty-Six
T
he Oxford rout was a crush. It was cold outside and was exactly where Maeve wished she were.
“Lady Alymer, I believe this is our set.” Viscount Beaumont stood in front of her. He barely came to her nose.
Stifling her sigh, Maeve set her hand atop his arm and let him lead her to the dance floor. “How do you find Cavendish House?”
“It’s a lovely home.”
“Yes. Yes. Rowena Hollerfield was quite popular in her day.”
There was nothing Maeve could say to that.
The rest of the night went much the same. A quadrille with Shufflebottom, country dance with Welton, a cotillion with Oxford, a waltz with Dorset, and no sign of Harlowe.
