“When she has time or wants to impress a new friend. No, Gantry, you have an unwanted gift, a healthy father invested in your life. I want to be that for Lionel without all the manipulation. I will be a source of stability regardless of his mother.”
“Well, your nanny has showed on the balcony. Go make nice. We want bread tomorrow.”
Busick turned and spied Patience Maybe-Jordan carrying Lionel, cooing at him, like nothing had happened.
She and Mrs. St. Maur spread a blanket between the chairs, just like normal.
Gantry straightened Busick’s jacket. “Well, Commander, go forth and conquer.”
Busick picked up his pace, climbed the stone stairs, and gazed at the nanny. A gown of the deepest black swallowed her whole, hiding the figure that had been in his arms last night.
He started to pull out his watch but stopped. La . . . Jordan . . . Patience was on time. He moved to his chair, but the stare between them remained unbroken.
“I’m going to leave. Time to dust,” Mrs. St. Maur said, then scurried back into the house.
Patience sank onto the blanket six feet away. She whispered something, then put the baby on the fuzzy wool.
Her mouth opened, but her typical complaint about Lionel being too young to crawl never came. She looked at Busick coolly. “Go, Lionel. Go to the commander.”
The boy lifted his head, big and wobbly and burped. Wait. Was that a smile for Busick?
He slapped his thigh. “Come to me, son. You can do it. I believe in you. You’re capable.”
The baby tipped over onto his back, then rolled onto his stomach.
That was new.
Patience offered a bit of a smile, her eyes getting big. Pride in her son? Maybe a little approval for the duke as well. His trials were working.
“Your Grace, Mrs. St. Maur, and I will be heading out this evening.”
What?
And that didn’t sound like a request.
Dragging his chair onto the blanket until he was next to Lionel, he scooped the boy up. “I said you didn’t have to leave. Lionel is not going anywhere.”
Her lids closed. “I hadn’t intended to take him with me. This time.”
“When and for how long?”
“It should take no longer than a day.”
“You will be coming home as soon as this errand is done?”
Her lips trembled. “I’ll return to Hamlin, but home for me is Demerara. If you don’t think you can handle taking care of Lionel for such a long time, I’ll . . . I’ll ask Lady Shrewsbury to send a new widow.”
“No more women in this house. The current widows she’s sent have upended things. I can handle Lionel.”
“I know you’re quite capable. I couldn’t do this, couldn’t be away if I didn’t know how you loved my son.”
But she was still leaving. “May I ask where you’re off to?”
“You may, but nothing requires me to answer. I’m just informing you of my decision.”
“I don’t like not having a say.”
“Duke, you’re not my father or my husband or my employer. So, no say.”
