Lady of Sin by Madeline Hunter

boy. She empathized with his bleeding conscience more than she wanted to. Her need to protect her own was stronger, however. And right now her defensive instincts were screaming.
    She feared what had distracted this lawyer during his intense contemplation at the window. She had read his mind while he considered the other possible explanations for this claim of a lost boy.
    The worst one would bring an insurmountable scandal to Mardenford. It would also have devastating consequences on Ambrose’s life.
    “Mr. Knightridge, I feel that I must lay this matter to rest and return Finley’s lies to his grave. I came here today to tell you that I will see the boy.”
    “That is very good of you. I will make arrangements for you to meet him in a day or so.”
    “Today. Let us do it now.”
    “Finley’s lair was deep in St. Giles rookery. It would be more prudent if I found the boy and brought him to you.”
    “I will not make this a formal meeting, nor allow the matter to continue even one more day. If the boy is in this lair, and the lair is in the rookery, let us go there now. It will not be the first time I have ventured into such a neighborhood. With you as my escort I am sure I will be safe.”
             
    She was not stupid. Whatever else he thought of Lady M., Nathaniel knew she was very astute. Irritating, but smart. Her perceptions could be discomforting, mostly because they were often correct.
    They had not really spoken frankly of what this lost boy might mean. They had not put the worst possibility into words. She knew the danger, however. He did not doubt that she had seen it all, even without knowing exactly what Finley had said that day.
    Born better than you . . . Born to be a lord.
    Those words had not implied there was an unknown bastard at large, but an unknown son of legitimate birth, who should one day have the title.
    Not Philip’s son. It was not only Philip’s illness and lack of progeny that convinced Nathaniel it had not been Philip, if indeed it had been either of them. For all his blandness, the last Baron Mardenford had exuded a quiet strength of character. Philip also would never have been so stupid as to contract a secret marriage, since he expected to inherit the title. James, on the other hand, was a vague, less distinct man who as the second son could afford to be reckless.
    He realized there was another reason he was certain it had not been Philip. Charlotte had married the man. She would not have missed such a flaw in him. She would never tie herself to a man capable of the deceptions and dishonor implied by the worst explanation for Finley’s ambiguous accusations.
    As Nathaniel joined Charlotte in her carriage, he admired her confidence in how this outing would conclude. He envied Mardenford’s family the loyalty they had in their dowager baroness. He did not doubt that she would fight like a lioness to protect those she loved.
    He hoped that by day’s end she would not have cause to.
    She toyed with a little ribbon on her parasol’s hilt. He watched her slender, delicate fingers, so elegantly sheathed in snug lambskin gloves, stroke and smooth the tiny strip of silk. He began imagining that feathery touch gliding over his naked skin.
    He forced himself to look away from those seductive fingers, and at her face. Beneath her determined and thoughtful expression he perceived the soft vulnerability that made her so similar to the other woman who occupied his thoughts.
    Actually, right now, in the dull light coming through the carriage window, her eyes, her mouth, her chin . . .
    For an instant his sensibility was
almost
certain, despite how his rational mind rejected the possibility out of hand.
    “Mardenford is lucky to have you as his hostess. His son is lucky to have your love.”
    “I am the one who is lucky. Ambrose is like a son to me, and James like a brother. It is good to have such a family, and a place where one is at home.”
    He realized that she did not know that