“Look at me, Repington. We’ve been friends for years. Your leg is amputated, and you never say a word. Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you, Gantry, with my life. But you know how I am. I don’t want a fuss to be made.”
Tugging on his ribbon-tied hair as if he’d rip out a clump, the viscount moaned. “Then I won’t even ask why you’re back to the bandaged limb.”
“My leg is sore. The mechanical contraption is heavy. The straps chafe. It clacks when I walk. Falling with it wasn’t the best for my leg or my back.”
“Use your design mind and create a new one. Or get your nanny to whip you up something soothing. I hear she solved your Lionel’s red bottom issues with her coconut mash.”
Was Lionel still Busick’s?
“Duke, tell me.”
“The nanny. She says she’s my cousin’s wife, Lionel’s mother. I think that part is true, but I don’t know. How do I trust her when she deceived me?”
“Um . . . She nearly killed herself saving you from a falling chandelier. What type of sign are you looking for?” Gantry folded his arms and tapped his nose in a knowing fashion. “You’re brooding. And irritable. Yesterday, you were as nervous as a true mother hen over this woman. Is this agitation about her hiding her identity or something else? Did you get rebuffed by the nanny? Did she send you to bed without dessert?”
“First, I always get dessert. That usually eases my troubles, but I may have been a little insensitive to her . . . about the deception.”
Brow cocked, Gantry stared at him.
“Well, maybe I was a lot insensitive about a lot of things, but she misled me.”
“Women have their reasons. I think we might have to be more open to listening.”
“Oh, this marital difficulty is working you. Buck up, man. We have to have principles.”
“Yes. Principles. Yours and mine, have done us quite well. I’m wifeless and you’re irritable with no bread. We’ve been quite principled.”
Busick wasn’t alone. He was still Lionel’s guardian, and for a good stretch, he had a woman who cared about him.
The faux nanny, more-than-likely wife to his late cousin, did push him out of the way of the chandelier’s fall.
She did kiss him last night.
Kissed him like a suitor.
Then left him like a rake and went upstairs with a stranger.
“Duke, soldiers for hire don’t quite make a family. But a woman of substance and a child I know you adore, that has the makings of a fine dessert.
“You sound like my mother. Always trying to arrange things to make up for her scandalous behavior. Lucky for me, her latest friend has kept her from darkening my doorstep.”
Another glance at the empty balcony heated his gut. “You’re missing the point. The nanny has lied to me twice. Would anyone respect me if I overlooked this?”
Gantry put a hand on Busick’s shoulder. “You’ve earned your respect on the field and off by how you treat your men and your friends. You’re your worst critic pushing yourself when you don’t have to.”
“That’s the man I am. That’s not changing.”
“No one wants you to change, but I for one would like you happy. You’re filling your world with the things you’re used to—soldiers and drilling. What about things you’ve never had, like a woman who truly loves you?”
“Don’t they all claim love until something doesn’t go as it should? What type of fool will I be if there’s another deception she’s hiding?”
“I’ll do some inquiries for you. See what can be determined about Mrs. Jordan. Wouldn’t your mother be able to identify your cousin’s widow?”
“Perhaps, but then I’d have to see Lady Bodonel.” Busick wanted none of her meddling or treating him as his invalid father. He pulled out his watch. “I’ll invite my mother here along with your father. Won’t we be an unhappy quartet?”
Gantry looked as if he’d bit into a sour lemon. “Your mother is nothing like my father. She’s actually proud of you.”
