The earl went on. “God knows the other two lawyers weren’t as knowledgeable as you. Or as blunt.”
Mr. Pitney blinked. “Sir, I—”
“Don’t apologize,” Lord Heathbrook said wearily. “I’d rather a blunt man than a sycophant. Besides, you were right to take me to task. My temper landed me in trouble in my youth, and in this particular situation, I seem incapable of being ‘even-tempered.’ But I realize I cannot let it get the better of me.”
The attorney nodded his agreement. “And you will consider the other recommendation I made? It wasn’t only your father’s concern about your temper that guided his decision, after all, and my recommendation—”
“I’ll consider it.” The earl sighed. “But I don’t have to like it.”
“What man does? Still, it’s a trial all men must bear.”
“An interesting way to look at it.”
They both laughed inexplicably and began chatting of other things.
Giselle shook her head. What was that about? What trial must all men bear? She was so busy trying to puzzle it out that she didn’t see the maid heading toward the door with the tea tray before the young woman was practically upon her.
Managing to step back just in time, Giselle hurried over to the settee to take a seat beside her mother. The maid nodded to them as she entered and bustled over to set down the tray before bustling out again.
“Shall I pour the tea, Maman?” Giselle asked.
“There’s no coffee?” her mother asked.
“The English mostly drink tea,” Giselle reminded her.
“Bah, I hate tea,” her mother complained.
“I know you do. But English tea is stronger than French, so you might enjoy it more.”
As Giselle poured her a cup, her mother said, “Hmm. We shall see.”
Giselle added the same amount of sugar that her mother preferred to have in coffee. “The English even prepare their tea differently. Fortunately, my sister has taught me how to make a proper English tea.”
“The duke’s wife, you mean. Yourhalfsister.”
Giselle sighed. “Yes, Maman. My half sister.”Whose father was your lover once, the man whom you refused to marry.
No, she could never say that to her mother, who grew more ashamed of her past the older she got. At least she had borne Giselle within the confines of a legitimate marriage, with only Maman—and eventually Giselle’s real father, Monsieur Morris—knowing Giselle had not been conceived within the marriage.
So, the world thought Giselle was legitimate, and Giselle had thought the same. Until she had met Monsieur Morris. After that, she had come to England and acquired her wonderful English family—Tory and her little brother Cyril and the rest of them—who had accepted her and been kind to her and made her feel welcome in her new home. Now that she had them, she never wanted to lose them.
Fine. She would do whatever she must to gain the earl’s help, short of letting him take her innocence. Because if he could not help them, all was lost, anyway.
And she did not think she could bear that loss this time.
Chapter 2
After showing Pitney out, Heathbrook climbed the steps of his town house, fighting to regain control of his anger as he unfolded the piece of paper Pitney had scribbled on and passed to him on their way out.
Yates rides with the lads in Hyde Park every afternoon at 3:30. As I told you, I have my own spies.
Heathbrook blinked, then shook his head ruefully. Pitney was proving to be a very helpful attorney, even if hewasgoing a bit far to keep his information from being overheard.
Well, the least Heathbrook could do was follow the man’s advice and strive for better regulation of his own emotions. To be fair, however, he’d had two reasons for anger: not only his late father’s refusal to trust him, but also Yates’s idiocy. Yates could have just handed guardianship over to him, but no, the arse had insisted on hanging on to it … and in the process, hanging on to the boys’ property until at least Evan, the oldest, came of age. That alone made him suspect in Heathbrook’s eyes.
All right, so the manwasMother’s cousin. Still, Heathbrook refused to call Frederick Yates “my cousin” himself, although technicallythe man was his first cousin once removed. Until Father had listed Yates as guardian in his will, Heathbrook had only known him by the moniker Mother had given him: Frigid Freddy. Heathbrook’s image of the man had been of a cold fish who’d never married because no woman could warm to him.
So far, Heathbrook’s limited dealings with the older fellow had confirmed that image. Was such a man, with the inability to show even familial affection, fit to look after Evan, Kit, and Zachary? Not bloody likely. Heathbrook’s very occasional spates of bad temper—or his youthful mistakes—did not compare.