LITMIR.BIZ

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Mary had snipped a large segment of hair from one Major Fitzgerald’s daughter’s head, using a sharp pair of scissors. Her possessions had been packed posthaste, and she would arrive, courtesy of Miss Hume, some time tomorrow morning. Miss Hume did not plan on inviting her back. She was Will’s responsibility now, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with her. He knew nothing about children, girls in particular, and it might take months to find another school that would accept such a hoyden.

      He lay down his paper and took the letter from his inside pocket, glancing yet again at the strident lines of text. Bloody unpredictable females, young and old…

      A quiet knock on the drawing room door interrupted his ill-tempered thoughts.

      ‘Yes?’

      Bartholomew, his butler, entered cautiously.

      ‘Good morning, my lord. It is your cousin.’

      This wasn’t welcome news. Will had several cousins, but all but two of them were considerate enough to leave him alone in the mornings. It was certain to be one of the demon twins, Henrietta or Venetia.

      ‘What—here? Which cousin?’

      ‘Which cousin indeed?’an arch voice called in from the hall. ‘Surely you must know that Venny’s at Waddlehurst with Philip and the children.’

      Henrietta Sandon-Drabbe sailed into the drawing room, not waiting for permission to enter. She was a year younger than he, and the top of her head stopped just shy of his chin. She’d once been very pretty, and her pale blonde hair and blue eyes undoubtedly continued to appeal to most casual observers. Will, however, had a difficult time separating her personality from her appearance. She was intrusive, manipulative and bossy, as was her sister. Since they normally travelled as a pair, he considered himself lucky to have only one to deal with that morning.

      Bartholomew wisely eased out of the room, closing the door behind him. Will folded the letter and laid it next to him on the sofa, forcing a smile as he rose. ‘I hope she’ll be away for a long time?’

      ‘Until the end of the summer, sadly. But I know she would approve of my mission this morning.’

      He groaned. ‘Oh, Henny, don’t say you’re on a mission.’

      ‘Well, I am,’ she replied. Her gaze sharpened as it lit on the cat. ‘And why is that foul creature not in the kitchen? Surely you have rats enough to keep it occupied. Shoo!’ She waved her hand at it, and it insolently shifted its fat mass, but did not otherwise move. She glared at it before selecting another chair.

      Once comfortably arranged, she said, ‘I cannot imagine why you’re being so disagreeable. You haven’t even said good morning. I trust your mood will improve by tonight.’

      Will resumed his seat. ‘Good morning, Henny. What happens tonight?’

      She gave him a patient, patronising look—the sort she reserved for dense, unobservant men and her husband, Edward. ‘Constance Reckitt’s ball. You’ve known about it for weeks, and you promised you’d come.’

      Will frowned. He’d forgotten that he’d agreed to attend the ball, and he’d only done so because Henrietta had nagged him about it almost incessantly.

      ‘Edward going to be there?’ he asked.

      ‘No, he has developed a tickle in his throat.’

      ‘How convenient for him.’

      ‘Yes, suspiciously so. You, however, get no such reprieve. It is essential you make an appearance.’

      ‘I’d hardly call it essential. I don’t even know why you want me there, since all you’ll do is scold me under your breath. You know I detest these things.’

      For just an instant, her composure looked set to snap. In a tight, controlled voice, she said, ‘I want you there because you are the Earl of Lennox. You are four and thirty. Have you no concern for your duty?’

      He shouldn’t have posed the question, since the answer was always the same. He didn’t need his cousin to remind him of his duty. He was responsible for carrying on his family’s name. If he didn’t produce an heir, then eventually there’d be no more Stantons living at Wentwich Castle, his estate in Norfolk, and no more Earls of Lennox. Since he was the seventh Earl of Lennox, it was a tradition worth protecting.

      ‘I’ve never said I won’t marry. Just not right now.’

      ‘When? What will happen if you don’t produce an heir?’

      ‘James is married now—’

      ‘Yes, but your brother’s wife has managed to produce just one, tiny girl in three years. Do you not think you should make some attempt at respectability? You need a wife yourself, William. Not some unending string of…of women.’

      ‘You’ve been reading the scandal sheets again.’

      ‘I’m not the only one. Your misdeeds have been widely reported for years, and you now have the most appalling reputation. I’m not even certain anyone would marry you.’

      He closed his eyes momentarily, searching for patience, reminding himself that he didn’t really dislike Henrietta. Bossy she might be, but she did mean well. ‘Listen, Henny, I don’t gamble and I haven’t had a mistress in months, not that it’s your business. So let’s speak of something else.’

      She backed off reluctantly. ‘You are in a foul mood.’

      ‘And you’ve done everything in your power to make it worse.’

      She sighed, looking around the room in search of another topic of conversation. Her gaze settled on the letter next to him. ‘But then why, I wonder, are you so put out this morning? Have you received bad news?’

      He looked at the letter, too. The last thing he wanted was to give her another reason to interfere in his life, but then again, he wanted to change the subject. Besides, he hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with the child when she arrived in less than a day. All three of Henrietta’s brats were girls; she might be able to help him.

      He rose to hand her the letter, sure that he’d eventually regret doing so. ‘I suppose it is rather bad news.’

      She started reading, but only got about halfway down the page before looking up with some alarm. ‘I don’t understand at all. Who’s Mary Weston-Burke?’

      ‘My goddaughter. Arthur Weston-Burke’s only child.’

      She laid the letter down, knitting her brow. ‘Your school friend? He died a few months ago, did he not?’

      ‘Yes, and she became my ward.’

      Henrietta raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘You didn’t tell me that.’

      He was already beginning to wish he hadn’t shown her the letter. He returned to the sofa, feeling defensive. ‘No, well, I didn’t think it would come to anything. She’s been at school the whole time—’

      ‘You didn’t assume she’d be at school for ever, did you?’

      He frowned. ‘I thought I’d worry about what to do with her next when the need arose. Frankly, I assumed she’d be at school for a few more years at least. She’s only twelve.’

      She shook her head disapprovingly. ‘Hasn’t she any other family? I cannot imagine why you’ve been selected for this task. I can’t think of anyone more unsuited. You know nothing about children.’

      ‘My nieces adore me.’

      Henrietta snorted. ‘That’s because you spoil them. You’re far too soft-hearted.’

      ‘I’m not soft-hearted at all,’ Will protested. He didn’t think he was, either. He was a rake of the first order, at least by repute. But maybe she was right, and he was losing his touch. Maybe that’s why he’d given his watch to a woebegone thief with big violet eyes.

      ‘I

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