face. Gratitude made him uncomfortable. So did Katherine Brampton. But he could no longer delay greeting her.
As she curtsied, Miguel, unprompted, silently bowed to Harry with the grace of a trueborn aristocrat. Lizzie rushed forward to escort the little boy upstairs to the nursery. Conversation halted as the pair progressed across the drawing room. Katherine’s eyes followed her nephew, a soft smile on her lips. Harry wondered what sort of man he was to envy an orphan of uncertain parentage.
“He seems to be thriving.”
Katherine turned to Harry, glowing with love and pride in the solemn little boy. Harry would have sworn that the floor beneath him shifted just a fraction. Soft, flame-colored curls framed a pale cream face; cheeks faintly blushed from recent exposure to the elements; and finely arched brows over limpid green eyes with candlelight reflected in their depths. Only once before had he been so mesmerized by beauty. No, he had never before been this mesmerized.
Cold fear seized his heart. He had promised himself, sworn by all that was holy, he would never again subject himself to the risk of such pain and loss. Harry resolved to take immediate measures to prevent disaster. Would he have to seek out Leticia Brampton, or would she find her way to him?
His smile of welcome was genuine when she approached him. He concentrated on appreciating her appearance and conversation.
“A charming family portrait, Lord Dracott.” She looked up at the picture over the fireplace. “And one cannot mistake the identity of the little boy. However did they bribe you to stand still long enough for the artist to get your likeness?”
“Cannot say that I remember, precisely.”
Harry was happy to note that he could look into Leticia Brampton’s hazel eyes without the least sensation of drowning. He could even choose the words he wished to say without any difficulty. His heartbeat and breathing remained reassuringly regular.
“I daresay it had something to do with a pony or a dog, or perhaps just a new toy soldier.”
“Your parents were so handsome. Truly elegant. And kind, I understand. In the short time I have been at Oak End, I have heard their praises, particularly those of your father, Lord Cecil.”
“All deserved. I have a challenging example to follow.”
“They must have been very much in love.”
“Whatever makes you think that?”
Harry glanced sideways at Leticia, who, if she had heard the surprise in his voice, gave no indication.
She cocked her head, dreamily regarding the powdered and wigged pair.
“Why, they look so happy, not a care in the world.”
Harry chose not to mention his domineering grandfather and his demanding grandmother.
“I believe their contentment lay in each understanding the other’s expectations, and their decision to accommodate those expectations as best they could.”
“I cannot believe you! That is too awfully dull. You must be mistaken to assign them such ordinary feelings and motivations!”
Leticia seemed cross to the point of anger. She might have town sophistication, but Harry reminded himself that she was young…very young. Too young to know she should end a discussion that had wandered into personal matters that were no concern of hers.
“Whatever really serious disagreements could they have had?” she challenged.
“There was the matter of town and country. Mama adored London. Papa, while happy within a small, familiar social circle, found the London society intimidating and shallow. But he dutifully made his way to the metropolis every spring.”
“I am certain that making your mama happy, made your papa happy.”
“That sounds like an interesting philosophy of marriage, Miss Brampton.”
Leticia fluttered her lashes. Harry wondered if it was flirtation or a nervous reaction.
“Lord Dracott! I am not one to formulate high theories of God-given institutions!”
“Perhaps the important lesson is that if one’s wife and parents agree, it makes
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