Page 31 of A Lady, Her Lord, & Their Duke

Arabella froze, her mind splintering like her nephew had started singing in fluent Russian. This solemn, sad lad was Edmund’s son? And according to the boy, Edmund hated him? How was that even possible? That wasn’t the Edmund they knew!

Inwardly flailing, Arabella glanced at Nev. Had she misheard? Was being at Eton turning her mind to mud?

Except her husband looked equally shocked.

“Er, no need to punch anyone, and school floggings are awful,” said Nev eventually. “But we are delighted to make your acquaintance, Denby. Or do you prefer Harry?”

The lad blinked. Then smiled tentatively. “Harry. It’s short for Harrison. My sister calls me Harry. I like it.”

“Harry it is,” said Arabella. “But my dear, I must ask…why do you think your father hates you? That is a heavy burden to carry.”

“He always has,” said the lad quietly. “Because I took too long to be born. Father and Mother had to wait eight years. That was my fault.”

Arabella pressed her fist to her mouth. Any moment she might burst into tears and that was utterly unacceptable. To witness such despair, when a heartfelt conversation between Edmund and Harry could put this to rights. Well, she had broken all her rules when it came to Edmund and was about to break another: minding her own business.

As Katie had said during their visit, open and frank conversation in a threesome was essential, which meant that Edmund’s painful past could not be allowed to poison his future. And that included the bond between father and son. It was up to her and Nev to provoke change, to start the mending of this rift before they could embrace Edmund as a permanent part of their future.

“Right,” she said crisply, “Here’s what is going to happen. We are all going to return to London. This is an injury that must be reset so it can heal.”

Harry stared at her with wide eyes. “Are you…are you going to abduct us? Like a pirate?”

Arabella nodded. “You might not know this, Harry, but my father sails ships filled with treasure chests. He pretends he is a textile merchant but…he is very, very wicked. As am I.”

“It’s true,” breathed Toby. “I’ve been to the docks—Mr. Ferndale has lots of ships. Listen to Aunt Arabella. She always knows best.”

A laugh almost escaped, but the situation was too serious. Arabella glanced at Nev. “Discreetly get the boys into the carriage. I will hunt down the dame.”

With shoulders back and chin high, Arabella marched back into the boarding house. The same maid from before directed her down a hallway to a small corner office where a rather harassed-looking older brunette in a black gown was flicking through a pile of files and ledgers on her overcrowded desk.

“Dame Sara?” she asked politely. “I am Lady Carlisle, Toby Carlisle’s aunt. May I have a moment of your time?”

The woman sighed, as though rallying herself, then she offered a brief smile. “Of course, my lady. Is there a problem?”

Arabella hesitated, rapidly recalculating her approach. The poor woman was obviously overworked with far too many young lads in her care, and probably horribly underpaid. “No problem. I wanted to ask a small favor, for which I will compensate you handsomely.”

Dame Sara frowned, but not swiftly enough to mask the flash of interest. “And what favor might that be?”

Arabella smiled and leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’d like my nephew and his best chum Lord Denby to have one last hurrah before school begins. To take both boys now and return them, safe and sound, tomorrow. So what I would require from you, is, hmmm, a slight miscount when you check beds tonight and in the morning.”

The brunette tapped her chin as she stared at Arabella’s reticule. “I am scrupulous with numbers and couldn’t possibly miscount…but boys who are unwell sleep in the infirmary chamber away from the others. They could be in there for a night. No more, mind.”

“A fine and efficient system,” said Arabella. “Now, I also know someone so scrupulous couldn’t possibly accept payment for such a favor. But if some coins appeared on your desk…who’s to say where they came from?”

“I am a very busy woman,” said Dame Sara, nodding. “I can’t watch my desk all the time.”

Opening her reticule, Arabella dug around until she retrieved two crowns, then she placed them on the desk. “I am a practical woman. What a joy to find another in you.”

Dame Sara’s eyes bulged at the amount. “Aye, my lady. We understand each other perfectly. You just make sure the lads are back in time for supper tomorrow, or there will be physicians involved and hell to pay. Be careful traveling out as well. Other dames aren’t so…practical.”

“Of course. Good day,” said Arabella as she departed the office. Good grief. Another rule broken; this time blatant bribery! She truly was her father’s daughter.

On returning to the carriage, Arabella climbed in and directed Toby and Harry to crouch down, which they did with great glee. Then she covered them with her lap blanket.

Nev’s lips twitched wildly. “Dare I ask?”

“Certainly not. To London!”

There was a reconciliation to achieve.