If He's Wicked. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ in showing them off just a little.”

      Chloe babbled on about the exquisite lace adorning the child’s little gowns, ones Leo adamantly refused to allow her to put on the boy. All the while she talked, she watched Lord Julian. His rather beautiful mouth soon lost the faint tremor afflicting it and firmed into a frown. By the time she began to complain about how Leo would not allow her to wash the child or his clothing in rose-scented soap, the man was glaring at her.

      “Enough,” Julian snapped. “Your ploy has worked. I am no longer feeling missish. B’God, I bloody well hope that was all nonsense.”

      “Some of it,” she said and grinned. “He really does have beautiful curls.”

      Julian grunted and then frowned at the door. “I think I would like to see him again now that I have composed myself.”

      “No fear of swooning again?”

      “I did not swoon. I merely succumbed, momentarily, to a lingering weakness due to my wounds.”

      “Of course you did. Actually, I believe Leo will be bringing Anthony by in a moment or two. He has brought the child here each hour on the hour since you, er, succumbed. Poor child thought you had died. Leo allows him to watch you breathe for a moment just to reassure him. Also, Leo hopes to find you awake again for Anthony’s sake and so that you may begin to make further plans. The clock has just struck the hour.” She listened for a moment. “Indeed, I believe I hear the pitter-patter of little feet coming up the stairs. Anthony’s, of course. Leo has rather large feet.”

      “You are a very strange woman,” Julian drawled, feeling an inexplicable urge to smile at her.

      “I know. ’Tis a gift.”

      Before he could reply to that nonsense, the door opened and Leo entered with Anthony, followed by Edgar, who looked uncertain. Julian stared at the child, who skipped up to the side of the bed. He stared into those eyes that matched his to a shade and knew, without a doubt, that this boy was his son. A quick study of the boy’s features, his hair, and even his long-fingered hands reminded Julian strongly of the portrait of himself at that age.

      The depth of the betrayal he had suffered, still suffered, was almost overwhelming. Beatrice had denied him his own child, and had fully intended that the boy die. She had obviously not dared to kill the child herself, but leaving a newly born baby with a dying woman, not knowing that Chloe was at hand, was murder nonetheless. To know that his uncle had been part of that crime was even harder to bear. Now this bright-eyed child looked at him as he would any stranger, and that hurt.

      “You all bedda?” asked Anthony.

      “Yes.” Julian hastily cleared his throat, a little embarrassed by the hoarse emotion in it. “I am all better, or nearly so.”

      “Good. Leo and Cohee said you would be. Leo says you are my papa.”

      “Yes, I am.”

      “You gonna live with us now?”

      “For a while.” He frowned when the child began to look a little distressed.

      “I stay here. I live here. Leo and Cohee are my fambly.”

      “Ah, I see. Well, they always will be, for they are your godparents.” Julian ignored the looks of surprise the Wherlockes hastily hid.

      “Why did you go away?”

      It took Julian a moment to understand the question, to realize that the child had obviously been told some tale to explain his lack of parents. “I fear I was lost for a while.”

      Anthony nodded. “And Cohee founded you.”

      “Yes, she did. She is also working very hard to make me better.”

      “She cannot find Mama. Cohee said Mama was swallowed by the Pitahell Monster.”

      Julian heard Edgar choke back a laugh. He saw Leo scowl at Chloe. Chancing a peek at her himself, Julian found her looking ridiculously innocent. Yet again, he felt the oddest urge to laugh, something he had not felt like doing for a very long time. The Pitahell Monster, indeed, he mused. Chloe Wherlocke obviously did not temper her opinions much.

      “It made me sad for Mama,” Anthony said, “but I gots Cohee and that makes me happy.”

      “I am sure it does.” The bond between his son and Chloe was going to cause a problem or two, Julian decided. “She has taken very good care of you.”

      Anthony nodded. “She lubs me e’en when I am naughty. But I am a good boy. I have pretty hair.”

      Chloe ignored the way all three men frowned at her and she smiled at Anthony. “Very pretty hair indeed.”

      “Yes, well, I think this has been a long enough visit for now, young man,” Leo said. “Your father needs his rest.”

      “I will take the boy to his nurse,” Edgar said.

      “I have to kiss Papa first,” Anthony said.

      “Careful.” Leo quickly stopped the child from scrambling onto the bed, holding him up so that he could give Julian a kiss on the cheek. “Very good.”

      The moment Leopold set Anthony back down, the boy hurried around the bed to Chloe. He climbed up onto her lap, kissed her cheek, and wrapped his arms around her neck to hug her. Julian caught the child looking at him and recognized a surprisingly adult look of challenge. His pleasure over how easily Anthony had accepted him as his father dimmed just a little. Anthony might not call Chloe Mother, but it was very clear that the bond was there and set hard.

      “Godparents?” both Wherlockes said the moment the door shut behind Anthony and Edgar.

      “Why not? You have certainly fulfilled the role for these past three years,” Julian said. “I might as well make it official.” He scowled at Chloe. “Of course, all this pretty hair nonsense must cease.”

      Chloe rolled her eyes. “He is just a little boy. Time enough to turn him into a manly man.” She looked toward the fireplace and mumbled, “A manly man with pretty hair.”

      “Does she practice how to be irritating?” Julian asked Leopold.

      “Nay,” replied Leopold. “It comes quite naturally, I fear.”

      Chloe gave both men a look of disgust and then asked, “Are we to plot our plots now?”

      “Ah, well, the foremost plot had already been set in motion,” said Leopold. “His lordship remains hidden, giving rise to the belief that he is dead. He needs to heal and regain his strength.”

      “A bit thin, but what about his coachman?”

      “He was unconscious, if you recall, and too far away to see the attack. We found the carriage, and put it and the coachman out on the heath. My men stood watch to make sure no harm came to the man until he was discovered. We scattered enough blood in the carriage to cause the ones who found it to cry murder.”

      “A cry Beatrice and Arthur took up?” Julian asked even though he already knew the answer.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ