“What has Cook prepared for us today?” he said, stooping to unpack the basket.
“Jam samidges,” Sofia shrieked, rushing to assist him. “Lem’nade.”
“My favorite,” Lana said, although Gray kept his thoughts to himself. He preferred something a little heartier. Luckily, Lady Cooper had also included some fruit and cheese with fresh-baked crusty bread. He grinned as Sofia proceeded to get strawberry jam all over her face, but Lana was quick to wipe the little girl’s cheeks clean. “My sister and I used to have tea parties with jam sandwiches and lemonade all the time,” Lana told her. “Cook sometimes let us put a dollop of cream on the top as a special treat.”
Sofia paused mid-bite, her blue eyes bright. “May I have cream?”
“Next time, I promise,” Lana said as Sofia resumed munching happily on her sandwiches.
“You’re good with her,” Gray commented softly.
“I love children.”
Even those not your own?
The thought was lightning quick, but Gray couldn’t help himself. It was obvious that Lana cared for Sofia. It showed in the gentle way she spoke to the child and how tender she had been in her ministrations while she’d been ill. He wondered whether it was because she loved children in general or if it was because Sofia was his. His pride hoped for the latter, but he knew it was likely the former. Servant or not, there was no doubt in his mind that Lana would be a wonderful mother. He watched them, their heads bowed together, one dark and one light, as Lana showed Sofia a tiny ladybug on her finger.
“Lana, swing!” Sofia shouted, discarding the remains of her lunch and running toward a garden swing below a spreading oak. Gray smiled. Obviously Sofia adored Lana, too. Normally, he would be the one she dragged to the tree swing. Sofia’s giggles and squeals filled the garden as she decided they should switch places and she was pushing Lana. Gray joined them.
“Push Lana, Norry,” she told him, and after he obliged, she proceeded to pursue a butterfly.
“She is lovely,” Lana murmured.
“Thank you.”
“She looks so much like you.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Have you thought about what you will do?” she asked quietly. “Later, when she is older.”
“No.” Gray walked around to the front of the swing so that he was facing her, his hands resting above hers on the sides of the rope. More of her hair had escaped their pins. Gray wanted nothing more than to release the rest of the heavy mass and run it between his fingers, but he kept his hands firmly on the ropes.
Her eyes met his, compassion swimming in them. “You’re her father, Gray. She should be with you.”
“It would be a scandal.” He sighed. “My mother—”
“Would love her,” Lana interrupted. “I think you should give Lady Dinsmore more credit. She loves you and only wants for your and Brynn’s happiness. And Sofia deserves to know her family.”
“But the ton—”
She pursed her lips, drawing his attention there. “You think other men in the illustrious ton haven’t gotten mistresses pregnant? You are the decent one for looking after your child instead of sending her away and pretending she never existed.” She bit her lip as if worried that she’d been too forward. “Where is…her mother?”
“She doesn’t want her.”
“Does she want you?” Lana’s whisper was nearly inaudible.
His hands slid down the ropes to rest upon hers, his fingers stroking in between the gaps. The warm contact of her skin electrified his blood as much as if he had bent to press his lips to hers. “No. I haven’t seen Marianna in years, and she has no claim to Sofia. I made certain of it before placing her with the Coopers.”
Lana licked her lips, and Gray found himself leaning forward, mesmerized, before a small body hurtled between them and plunked herself in Lana’s lap. “Push, Norry!”
“Very well,” he said with a grin and a sharply inhaled breath. Kissing Lana in a garden with strange servants around was not a smart idea. “I am honored to serve my two special ladies.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he could not deny their truth. The emotion threatening to spill out of his chest was not only because of Sofia; it encompassed Lana, too. The devil take him, he wanted to laugh. He had an illegitimate daughter, he was in love with his sister’s maid, and he could not be more deliriously happy than he was right at that moment. Fate, it seemed, had a curious sense of humor.
The hour flew by, and soon the Coopers returned. As they said their good-byes and Lana hugged and comforted a tearful Sofia, Lady Cooper sought him out.
“Lord Northridge,” she said. “May I speak with you for a few moments?”
He frowned. “Certainly.”
Once they were ensconced behind the closed doors of the morning salon, she blurted, “Sir Cooper and I are expecting a child.”
His frown turned into a wide smile. “That is wonderful news. My congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Lady Cooper paused, her hand fluttering to touch his sleeve. “We adore Sofia and are honored to have her in our family,” she began. “She asks for you every day, you know. It seems that deep inside, she knows who you truly are. The other day she pointed to her face in the looking glass and said ‘Norry.’ I think she knows that she is connected to you in a way that we are not.” She drew a long breath. “Children are far smarter than most expect, and I suspect that it will only become clearer for her as she gets older.”
His chest ached with pride at the image of Sofia staring at her face in the mirror and recognizing his.
“What are you saying?”
“That we only want what is best for her. And if you decide that her place is with you, we would not disagree.”
Gray felt the floor drop out from below him. A barrage of feelings assaulted him, though he didn’t know which was strongest. Hope? Fear?
Lady Cooper must have seen the confusion upon his face because she rushed to assure him. “And should you decide her place is here, we are happy for that also. We love her as our own, and she is a part of our family. However, sooner or later, you will have to tell her the truth.”
Or stop seeing her.
She didn’t have to say it. Gray knew the complications his presence would bring, especially if the resemblance grew as she became older. She would be better off knowing only the Coopers as her family…without visits from the family friend who happened to look so much like her when she looked nothing like her own parents. But he couldn’t fathom the thought of not being able to see Sofia…not being able to laugh with her, not being able to hold her. He couldn’t conceive of never being a part of her life. Of not having her know him.
“I will consider what you have said,” he replied after a while.
Lady Cooper released a pent-up breath. “That’s all I ask, my lord.”
Chapter Twenty
Lana stared at Gray’s solemn profile as he guided the horses on their way back to London. He looked troubled—it was evident in the slant of his mouth and the frown that seemed to have taken up permanent residence upon his brow the moment they’d left Kentish Town. He’d seemed lighter in the garden with Sofia, but now, he was preoccupied.
“Is something amiss?” she asked quietly.
His eyes flicked to her, surprise registering in them, as if he’d forgotten she was there. He sighed and nodded. “Yes and no. Lady Cooper is with child. Like you, she thinks Sofia’s place is with me.”
“And you?” Lana asked. “What do you think?”
He turned his eyes from the road to stare directly at her. “I love her, and I want her more than anything.”
Lana drew a shaky breath. Of course he did. He loved his daughter. What father wouldn’t?
“Then you should do everything in your power to get her.”
He held her gaze prisoner. “I plan to.”
Lana’s breath shuddered in her chest. She wasn’t sure he was only talking about Sofia. As she tore her eyes away from
his, she saw a large log blocking half of the road. “Gray! Look out!”
He jerked wildly on the reins, forcing the pair of horses to run off the road to avoid hitting the limb. Lana clutched at the side of the curricle as he tried to get the conveyance and the startled pair under control before they veered into a thick copse of trees. He swore loudly as the branches swept into their faces and reached one arm to block them from hitting her.
The reins were wrenched from his fingers, and the horses were off and running, dragging the curricle behind them like a broken wooden toy. The crack of the wheel was like the shot of a pistol as the axletree split in half, and Lana was thrown to the right. She landed in a wet patch of mud, all the wind knocked out of her. She gasped for air and sat up, the dampness soaking into her dress and mud caking every inch of her. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to be hurt, although her clothing was ruined. A huge rent ran up the side of her skirt, exposing her muddied stockings.
“Lana?” Gray called.
“I’m over here,” she said, breathing hard.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, limping into the grove. His eyes went wide at the sight of her, and Lana imagined how frightful she must appear. She was lucky to be alive. They both were.
She shook her head. “Not that I can tell,” she said and then frowned, noticing his awkward gait and the flowering red poppy on the hem of his white shirt. “What happened?”
“It looks worse than it is,” he assured her. “A small gash, nothing more.”
The crimson stain at his side was spreading. “Even so, we need to get that cleaned before infection sets in. Where are the horses?”
“They stopped a bit ahead.” He stood at the edge of the mud pit and reached a hand down to her. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” she said, pulling herself up. “But my skirt is ripped.” Gray’s eyes dipped to the tear in the material, and Lana held the torn edges together, blushing fiercely. Gray drew a breath, running a mud-splattered hand through his hair. “Neither of us can show up at Bishop House looking like this.” He studied her. “Can you ride?”
“I think so.”
“We can unhitch the horses and ride them to The Cock and the Crown. It’s not far from here.”
“The what?”
“The Cock and the Crown.” Faint color flushed his cheeks. “A gaming hell.”
“Oh.” She’d heard of such places and the types of men who visited them. Gray claimed not to be that sort of man any longer, and she wanted to believe him. But doubt surged nonetheless. She nodded, her voice cooling slightly. “Very well, my lord.”
He avoided her eyes as if embarrassed. “I know it’s not a proper sort of place for young ladies, but I know the owner. We’ll be able to get cleaned up and find you some clothes. And I can send a messenger to Bishop House. Colton and one of the footmen will have to retrieve the curricle.” He glanced at her, lines of concern pressed between his brows. “I’ll ride back with them. The Crown has a number of conveyances available to its members. I’ll see to it that you’re settled into one and returned safely. None of the staff at Bishop House will ever know you were with me.”
Lana knew it wasn’t shame over being caught with a maid that had Gray carefully working out a solution to their current situation. It was attentiveness to her reputation among the staff, and her very position as lady’s maid, and assuring her that he would protect them both. For that, she was thankful.
A few paces away, the horses were still joined to the remaining half of the curricle, and the team stood grazing quietly. Gray stopped short and swore under his breath, his frustration evident. “We have no saddles.”
Lana grinned, deftly unhooking the straps of the horse closest to her. She wrapped her fingers in its mane and pulled herself on top of the horse, tucking her frayed skirts beneath her limbs. Gray’s jaw practically dropped to the ground, and she laughed at him from her perch. “Saddles are for the weak.”
“You surprise me, though by now you should not,” he said, unlatching the second horse.
“Lead the way, Lord Northridge.”
They rode at a decent pace toward the north end of London, Lana keeping pace easily with Gray, despite her torn clothing and no saddle, a fact that he couldn’t seem to comprehend if the glances he sent her were any signal. She grinned. She forgot decorum and rode astride, the way she much preferred. Of course that was better achieved in trousers as opposed to skirts, something she shared in common with Lady Briannon. Although she would never admit it. Brynn didn’t need to be encouraged in her exploits.
Lana’s eyes widened as they rode through the narrow, filthy streets of the north end and approached the imposing, greasy exterior of the gaming hell. Gray kept his mount close to hers, and she was grateful for it. They dismounted, and Gray tossed the reins and a few coppers to a boy standing nearby. He then ushered Lana through a side entrance, where he introduced her to a fox-faced man named Dunworthy.
“This is Miss Volchek,” Gray said, offering no other explanation.
Dunworthy inclined his head. “Miss.”
“We ran into a spot of trouble on Highgate.” As Gray continued to fill Dunworthy in on what had happened, Lana took measure of her surroundings. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen, not that she’d ever been in a gaming hell. The place was dark and cavernous—all red and black carpeting with deep mahogany walls. It was showy and not tasteful in the least. The sound of chatter and laughter drifted through the heavy drapes at the far end, and occasionally she could see a flurry of movement. Her curiosity was well and truly piqued.
“Go with Frieda, miss,” Dunworthy was saying to her, and Lana blinked as a buxom redhead approached. “She’ll help.” Gray nodded, and Lana followed the woman up some narrow stairs to a set of apartments at the top.
“You must have taken quite a tumble,” Frieda remarked, her eyes kindly. “You look a fright. Not to worry, we’ll get you cleaned up in a tick.”
She led Lana into a room that appeared, if possible, even more cave-like than the entrance room below. Baize green walls, dark wood paneling, and a four-poster so thickly carved it could have held a sleeping giant. A fire was already in the hearth, a copper tub close.
Frieda peeled Lana’s muddy clothes off inch by inch, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Two housemaids entered to fill the tub with ewers of hot water, their eyes averted from Lana, her body wrapped in soft toweling as she waited. Once the maids took their leave, Frieda helped her into the small tub. “We’ll have you right as rain in no time.”
She soaked for no more than a quarter hour before the water turned cold. Frieda wrapped her again in the soft toweling and sat her before the fire while choosing a dress. Pulling on a worn but clean chemise, Lana flushed at the fact that there were no drawers to be had, but there was nothing to be done for it. Hers were ruined. Lana frowned when Frieda held out a gown. The bodice was low and narrow. Much too small for Lana. “That will not fit.”
Frieda winked. “What do you think God gave you those bosoms for? North won’t be able to tear his eyes away.”
“It’s not like that,” Lana said, flushing deeply, but Frieda only grinned knowingly as she tied the strings on the corseted back of the dress. She then tackled Lana’s mass of damp hair, tugging and brushing and pinning with industry, if little finesse. “Does…North come here often?” Lana asked after a while.
“Not as often as he used to. There, have a look.”
Lana turned to the looking glass and stopped short. Her hair was part up, part down, cascading over her shoulders. And the vibrant green dress left precious little to the imagination. Without stays, her breasts swelled over the lace edges of the bodice, and the material clung to every curve from her waist to her hips. She looked nothing like herself. Oddly enough, it made her feel confident, a bit daring.
Which was why when she finally came face-to-face with Gray in a private salon on the main floor, she held her head high. The shocked look on his face was well worth the time spent under Frieda’s coarse
ministrations as his eyes roved her greedily from head to toe. “You are a witch,” he whispered, taking her hand in his and drawing his lips across her knuckles.
“A witch?” she shot back, insulted.
“An enchantress.”
“In that case,” she said, blushing as he handed her a glass of sherry. “Thank you, my lord.”
She saw that he, too, had had a bath and was dressed in clean clothing with no sign of a bleeding wound. Gray noticed the direction of her stare and patted the side of his torso. “Good as new.”
“So what do we do now?” she asked, her eyes perusing the small but lavish room. A small fire burned on one side beside a cozy sitting area. It was intimate and private, and Lana realized with a start why it was so. It was a room, no doubt, where gentlemen went to meet with their paramours. Although she knew that she and Gray were here for the sake of privacy instead of…whatever it is those other men did, she couldn’t help the shot of panic that sent heat to her chest and cheeks. She sipped her drink, hiding her sudden malaise.
“I’ve already sent a message to Colton, so we will wait until his arrival. The less we are seen here, the better. As such, I hope you don’t find my company too dull.”
Lana froze. “Colton is to meet us here? Together?”
“He won’t see you,” Gray said, raising his hands as if to settle her. “Dunworthy has already sent word to have one of the Crown’s carriages readied for you. It should be no more than an hour, and I shall follow later, whenever Colton arrives.” Gray eyed her. “What would you like to do while we wait?”
“What does one do in a gaming hell?”
His eyes dropped to her breasts, and Lana flushed. He cleared his throat, his voice tight. “Cards. Dice. That sort of thing.”
“Shall we play cards, then?” she suggested, taking a seat in the armchair set beside a matching sofa.
My Darling, My Disaster (Lords of Essex) Page 25