Just as he’d always aggravated her. They just didn’t rub along well.
Still, he was glad she had been at Mrs. Warbler’s when he’d arrived with Dora. She was exactly what Dora had needed.
At that moment, the coach turned up the long drive leading to Belvoir. Miss Taylor leaned with the movement of the coach and woke herself. Mars dropped his attention to Dora. He knew Miss Taylor would be self-conscious to be so human as to be caught napping.
From the corner of his eye, he saw his concerns were correct. She sat up, glanced over at him, frowned at herself. She touched her bonnet as if to check that it was straight and then looked out the window, studiously ignoring him. Which she would have continued doing until she saw something outside that made her gasp. “This is your home?”
Mars looked to see what she meant. They were reaching the edge of Belvoir’s front lawn with the house stretched out in front of them at the end of the long drive. “Yes.”
“I’m—” She stopped. “It’s a palace.”
He laughed. “It once was. Now it is just a very grand house.” And much more. From the trees lining their way to the gray stone walls and row after row of windows reflecting the late afternoon sun, Belvoir proclaimed to one and all that a Person of Substance lived there.
Stately columns held up a portico that was the size of the St. Martyr’s church. The stepsled up to wide double doors. Stone hawks, some with their wings spread, others looking out over the world as if on watch for enemies, topped the staircase posts.
“I’ve never seen a lovelier building,” Miss Taylor whispered, almost as if she spoke to herself.
“I’m surprised you’ve never seen it before.”
“For what reason?”
He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped. His parents had not been ones to entertain the locals. After his father’s death, he’d not thrown open the doors either. “The gardens are said to be the finest in England.” He spoke with more than a touch of pride. He liked seeing his home through her eyes.
At that moment, Dora began to stir, almost as if she realized she was home. “May I take the baby from you, my lord?”
“No, she is fine.”
“I think it prudent. If she hasn’t wet herself yet, she will. And she’ll be hungry again.”
“She’s fine, Miss Taylor.” Mars wasn’t eager for another wet clout, but he wasn’t anxious over it either.
And Miss Taylor needed rest. He would have to see that both nurse and baby had naps.
Clarissa held up her hands, a sign that she would not argue. He smiled. He wondered how difficult it was for her to back down.
Probably as difficult as it would have been for himself.
As they drew closer, Mars could see that Mrs. Warbler and the pony cart had alreadyarrived. Gibson stood on a step, directing the transport of luggage with his servants moving like worker bees in a hive, and that was when Mars noticed the other coach under the covered section of the front portico.
He wasn’t expecting guests. Nor did he recognize the vehicle. He also caught a disturbed expression on Gibson’s face. Either the butler was very upset over Mrs. Warbler naming herself the housekeeper or something was not right.
Almost as if it was second nature, he shifted Dora to his shoulder, a protective hand on her back. Her little face turned into his neck.
His initial thought was that Deb had returned. Well, if it was Deb, she wasn’t taking his child.
His coach rolled to a stop. A footman opened the door.
Mars climbed out, leaving his hat behind. He unfolded his long frame, holding his baby close. Behind him, the footman held a hand out to help Clarissa.
Gibson hurried forward. “My lord—”
“Who is here?” Mars demanded, and then he had a horrible premonition.
It wasn’t Deb.
If what he suspected was true, Deb would have been a blessing.
Dora started fussing. It was as if she sensed his mood.
