LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      Vincent turned toward the fair-haired gentleman who had just sauntered through the door and bowed. “Good morning, Lord Litton.”

      “We haven’t seen you since Helen and I married.” Adam Barbon, Viscount Litton, extended a hand, which Vincent shook.

      “For which, I am sure, you are suitably grateful.” Vincent tried to smile.

      “Now, Vincent, don’t talk so. You know you are welcome here.” Vincent was relieved to hear that. He had not been sure. Helen Barbon reached for a fresh cup on the tray just provided by the footman. “Do you still take your coffee black?”

      “Yes, ma’am, thank you.” Vincent took the cup and marveled that she truly seemed to mean what she said. How could anyone be that forgiving? But he had hoped she would be. Otherwise, he would not have come.

      Had it not been for Diana, he would not have come at all.

      He only hoped his stepmother’s new husband would find himself able to command an equal degree of forbearance.

      His lordship grinned. “I’ll hold my gratitude in abeyance until I discover what has brought you here this time.”

      Vincent took a sip of coffee, struggled with the words and finally choked them out. “I need your help.”

      One of Litton’s eyebrows rose. “Do you, indeed?”

      “I would not ask… I dislike troubling you, but…” Vincent felt his mouth tighten. “I am not asking for my own sake.”

      “Heaven forfend that you should ask your family for help.”

      The sarcastic tone caused Vincent to look at his stepfather more closely, his eyebrows drawing together. He half rose. “If you had rather I not, I will immediately relieve you…”

      Litton waved the comment away. “Oh, sit down, sit down. Tell us who needs what.”

      “Pay him no mind, Vincent.” Helen reached out to place a calming hand on Vincent’s sleeve. “You know how he is. We are happy that you asked. Now…who needs our help?”

      Setting aside for the moment that he had never understood how Adam Barbon “is,” Vincent directed his gaze at Helen. “It is a lady.”

      “A lady?” Litton looked at him with renewed interest. “I begin to have hope.”

      Vincent felt the blood heating his cheeks. “You misunderstand me, my lord. Not…not my lady.”

      “Hmm.” Litton held out his cup for his wife to replenish.

      “Who, Vincent?” Without asking, Helen took Vincent’s cup and added hot coffee to it. “Is it someone I know?”

      “I’m sure you at least know of her. I am speaking of Lady Diana Corby.”

      “Ah. Yes, I have a slight acquaintance with her. One does not see her out anymore.”

      “Little wonder in that.” Litton helped himself to a pastry from the tray. “With that wastrel for a husband, she could hardly afford it.”

      “Lady Diana no longer has a husband.” Vincent looked back at two pairs of startled eyes. “Wynmond Corby was killed last night.”

      “Oh, my. How awful.” Helen covered her mouth with one hand. “He left her with small children, I believe.”

      Vincent nodded.

      “I don’t suppose he left anything to care for them?” Litton looked at Vincent, eyebrows raised.

      “No, sir. That is the difficulty. Lady Diana is allowing me to assist her temporarily.” His face got warmer as his stepfather’s eyebrows rose higher. The devil take him. It had been hard enough to leave her last night without… “Now, my lord. Damn it, Litton, that is not the way of it!”

      Helen sighed. “Don’t tease, Adam.”

      “No, no. I’m not teasing.” Litton sobered. “It is just very… How did this come about, Vincent?”

      Vincent related the whole sorry tale.

      “And he had no will?” Litton studied Vincent seriously.

      Vincent shook his head. “Apparently not. Wyn always did seem to think he would live forever.”

      “Damned irresponsible young jackanapes!” Litton scowled. “With a wife and children and he…”

      Vincent nodded. “Just so. But this is the first thing he has ever asked of me—and perforce the last—and I intend to oblige him.”

      “And the lady herself?” This time Litton’s expression was not sardonic, simply inquiring.

      “She is a very fine lady.” That was all that Vincent intended to say about that.

      “I see.” Litton pondered for a moment, his expression speculative. “It is going to look very havey-cavey, you know, your providing for her. I suppose you can afford it?”

      Vincent waved the question away. “Oh, yes, but it may not come to that. She intends to write to her cousin. It is his duty as head of her family.”

      “Won’t do it.” Litton shook his head. “Her father was the only Bytham worth his salt, and his cousin hated him. So what will you do?”

      “For the long run, I cannot yet say. That is why I need your help. The rooms where they were living are infested with cockroaches, rats and a corpse. Lady Diana could not stay there with the children. I took her to Fenton’s for the night, but that is not a good situation, either. It would be, however, much worse to bring her to my house.”

      He could never trust himself for that.

      “Of course,” Helen broke in. “I understand what you need. Bring her to me. She and the children may stay with me until she can make other plans.”

      “I would be very grateful. I hope it will not be for long.” Vincent sighed with relief. “I will see to the funeral, but it would be a great kindness if she had someone with her.”

      “She will be more than welcome. I will write her a letter immediately and invite her. You may carry it to her when you leave.”

      Helen went to her desk, pulled out stationery and began to write. Litton gazed at Vincent speculatively. “Do you need help with the funeral?”

      “I think not, but thank you.”

      Litton nodded silently, but continued his contemplation of Vincent. Vincent began to feel uncomfortable. Well, more uncomfortable. He wondered if the man was remembering the brawl Vincent had provoked between the two of them. Or the time that he— He shoved the thought aside. There were so many unpleasant things Adam Barbon might be thinking about Vincent’s past. It was a wonder he tolerated him in his house at all.

      But Vincent had had enough of his taciturn scrutiny. “You have another question, my lord?”

      Litton shook his head. “No. I was just thinking how little we know of you now.”

      Vincent smiled. If only his lordship knew how little.

      By the time the knock sounded on the door of their rooms, the children had completely exhausted the entertainment possibilities of Fenton’s Hotel. Had she been there alone, Diana would have been reveling in the luxury of the service, the fine furnishings, the wholesome food. The basic cleanliness. It had been so long since she had enjoyed those comforts.

      But cooping youngsters up in a hostelry with little outlet for their energy presented a challenge. Diana was nearing the end of her wits as to how to keep them occupied for the rest of the day. At present she had them working in their copy books in the sitting room, but they would soon grow restless.

      They knew something was wrong.

      She had not yet found the courage to tell them about their father. The crushing reality

Скачать книгу