Page 31

EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND TWO

NO NEST FOR THIS CUCKOO

“I have no bastards,” Miles said bitingly. “I have no children, born within wedlock or without.”

Daisy blinked at him. His reputation was unearned. But she’d seen him …

“You think that I have a fistful of bastards off in the country, and you hoped to hide this child among the rest, a cuckoo in the nest?”

“Yes,” she said baldly.

Miles was clearly furious, his body rigid. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my sins are not sufficient enough to camouflage yours.” The veneer of a politic, sophisticated gentleman had been stripped away. He looked like a Pict warrior she had seen depicted in a history book. Blue slashes of paint on his cheekbones would hardly make him look any more ferocious.

Daisy swallowed hard. This was a disaster. If he had no place to put Belle, then he could not help. If she told him that Belle was her half-sister, he would go straight to the Albany and accost her father—which would result in Belle being put in an orphanage. She would be gone forever, and Daisy would never see her again.

The baby pulled her thumb out of her mouth and frowned, as if she too was insulted. In one deft movement, Miles swung her over his head, flying her around as if she were an ungainly bird.

Daisy started forward, fearful he would drop her, but Belle began giggling and broke into a peal of laughter, kicking up her legs in delight. Miles’s entire face transformed as he smiled at the child.

He may not have any children, but he would be a marvelous father someday. He lowered Belle and tucked her into the crook of his arm.

“She’ll last two minutes at most,” Miles said. As he turned to Daisy, his laughing eyes lost all expression. “I suggest we dispatch her to the kitchen while we discuss the situation.”

The baby caught the corner of Miles’s neckcloth and began chewing on it busily.

“Ew, what on earth is she doing?” Daisy cried.

He pulled his cravat away, and Belle promptly replaced it with her thumb. “She’s teething. Your mothering skills seem somewhat lacking. Where has Belle been living while you were circling the ballroom floor?”

Daisy’s mind reeled at this rude—albeit fair—observation. “That’s none of your business!” she said hotly. “How do you know so much about children?”

“Not due to bastard children. I have younger sisters, and my parents passed away when they were very little.”

She should have gone to Frederick. Miles had looked at her with indifference before this morning, but now his eyes held pure contempt.

It enraged her at a basic level. He had gone to that masquerade. What right had he to be so holier-than-thou, even if he didn’t have such children? Not that she had one, but if she did … Her thoughts got tangled up in the unfairness. The only conclusion was that the world was unfair—but most keenly unfair to children like Belle and women like Belle’s mother.

“Forgive me for intruding. We shall leave,” she said.

“And go where?” Miles bounced Belle gently. She stopped sucking her thumb, patted his face again, and opined “Moo.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “Are her greetings limited to bovine imitations?”

“It’s a nice sound,” Daisy said defensively. “Give her to me, if you please.”

“No.”

It was incredibly seductive watching Miles cuddle a baby so tenderly, perhaps because she’d never seen a man do anything of the sort. Then his refusal filtered into her mind.

“What do you mean, no?” she asked sharply.

“I gather your mother threw you out?”

“Actually, I left,” Daisy said. But when she opened her mouth to explain, he interrupted.

“This child is hungry, and you appear unprepared to care for her, as you have no nappies or appropriate food. I suggest that you don’t leave the house in the future without carrying rusks. My sisters had to be fed at odd hours.”

Daisy accepted that reprimand as fair enough, so she nodded. “I shall learn to care for her.” Surprisingly, given that she had originally thought to send Belle to the country, she meant it.