Never Less Than A Lady | Herophine

Chapter Thirty Two

Hero

Hero halted the curricle and read the weathered sign. "Here's the drive to Jeb Gault's farm."

"We'll know soon," Josephine said, her voice tight.

Very true. But just what would they know? Hero watched Josephine from the corner of his eye as he turned the light carriage into the lane. It hadn't taken him long to realize that too much honesty could be a mistake in a marriage. The two days since his talk with Josephine about her future had been full of strain. It wasn't in her nature to sulk, but she had been very quiet ever since.

When they'd gone to bed that night, she'd turned onto her side, presenting her back to him. The message had seemed clear, yet when he touched her shoulder in a silent good night, she'd rolled over into his arms and they'd made desperate, wordless love. The next night had been the same. He could find no fault with the passion, but he missed the talking, which created intimacy beyond the physical.

He wished he knew what she was thinking. Was she considering her choices for lovers after the marriage ended? Was she practicing her sensual skills for the benefit of future bedmates? Not that she needed to-her talent for passion was unsurpassed. Or was she merely irritated with his directness?

The thought of her leaving him was like a bayonet in the gut, but after seeing her pleasure at the ball, he'd realized she'd probably be happier with a man who was more lighthearted. More her equal in station and fortune. So he was forcing himself to be rational and detached, since the alternative might be turning crazily possessive. She'd suffered enough of that with Xander.

The last thing he'd wanted to do was upset her, but he had. And he couldn't unsay his words.

As planned, they left London in search of Aiden Marlowe on the second morning after the ball. This time they'd traveled in style, using two carriages to transport Gordon and Elsa and their luggage. Since Upton was a couple of hours beyond Roscombe, they'd traveled down to his estate and spent the night.

This morning, Josephine had been so tense she'd had only a slice of toast and a cup of tea for breakfast. After, they'd set off in Hero's curricle.

The lane to Gault's Hill Farm was long and rutted. Hero drove with care, and found that the lane ran right into the farmyard. Feeding chickens beside the barn was a small, ragged boy who looked up suspiciously as the carriage pulled in.

With that face, the boy had to be Aiden Thomas. Xander's bastard looked much like his father at that age.

Hero exchanged a glance with Josephine, whose gray eyes were dark. She had also seen the resemblance.

Reminding himself that he was an adult, not a child trying to escape a vicious older cousin, Hero swung from the carriage. "Good day."

The boy edged back. "Mr. Gault be in the house." He pointed.

"I'm not looking for Mr. Gault." Hero handed the reins to Josephine. "I believe I'm looking for you. You're Aiden Marlowe?"

"I didn't do nothin!" The boy backed up farther, into the stable wall. He was small for thirteen, and didn't look as if he'd had a decent meal in years. His feet were bare and a rip in his shirt showed boney ribs.

"No one said you did." Josephine's voice was gentle but her gaze was intense.

"I believe your father was my cousin, which means you and I are cousins also." Hero didn't move any closer since the boy was poised to run. "Just to be sure, might I ask your father's name?"

"Some bloke called Xander. I never met 'im." His gaze went to the curricle. "My mam said 'e was rich. Like you."

The door to the farmhouse opened and a burly man with a horsewhip in one hand strode out belligerently. He reeked of whiskey even though it was only midday. "Who the hell are you and why are you talking to my boy?"