The doors of Hamlin opened. Lady Shrewsbury and her snowball Angora, Jemina, and the barrister came inside. They swept me up and ushered me to the stairs.
The duke was left standing in the hall, gaping at the invasion. I was glad he was down there and I was out of his reach.
CHAPTER 21
THEPROBLEM WITHCRAWLING
Busick’s men marched back and forth over the fresh snow. No leading them on horseback today. The riding platform was slick, too slippery to risk climbing, especially with his back aching. He’d need to be careful or he’d end up flat in bed for weeks.
A groan stirred deep inside as he leaned against the platform. Busick wasn’t the cautious sort, but what if the nanny was right? What if someone sabotaged the chandelier?
He pulled out his watch.
Five minutes to eleven.
Crawling practice with Lionel would begin on the hour. That is if what’s-her-name complied.
Mutiny stirred in those lovely dark eyes, but would she lie about concerns for his safety?
He crossed the field and took his spot beside Gantry.
Puffing his chest, Busick readied to dismiss the men. “Take care on patrol. We are a smaller contingent force, so we must be more vigilant.”
The snapping of palms of his men matched his salute and sounded crisp.
After the force dismissed, Gantry turned to him. “It’s good that you are keeping things light today.”
Suppressing a yawn, he checked his watch again. Ten to one. “Everyone was pushed very hard yesterday.”
Gantry nodded. His eyes showed his now trademark weariness. “Lady Shrewsbury had to return with another doctor last night for Mrs. LaCroy. I hope all is well.”
Busick didn’t know. He didn’t answer and paced to the balcony. He waited for Lady Shrewsbury and Mrs. St. Maur to tell him if Patience What’s-her-name was well, but they’d taken her to the third floor. The nice-looking gentleman—the too-nice-looking man flashy in an emerald-green waistcoat—in consult with the women didn’t bring him any comfort.
Jealousy was something he didn’t think he was susceptible to. If someone were to be his, they would be. Still, Patience was vulnerable.
Gantry met him at the balcony. “You look pretty sour for a man who escaped death again.”
“Sore. Not sour.”
“Would this mood have anything to do with nanny problems?”
Busick stopped and planted his crutch with a thud. “Why would you say that?”
“No bread this morning. I hear a woman bakes when she is happy.”
“Or when ordered to do so.”
“But you’d never do that. And you haven’t had to order her to do anything these weeks. When I passed her in the hall this morning, she didn’t look happy, either.”
“You saw her. She was up and about?”
“Yes. Moving quite slowly.”
The low clouds didn’t obscure his view of the vacant seats, the nannyless table. “I should cancel crawling practice today. She may be more hurt than she let on.”
The viscount’s face twisted. “Ummm. Crawling for a babe not yet four months old?” His friend steered in front of him and stopped at the base of the stairs. “Never mind about that. Tell me, what has occurred between you and the nanny?”
“There’s nothing.”
