The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne by Natasha Blackthorne Page B

ridiculous, yes, he knew that. Wearing his feelings emblazoned on his face, plain as day for the whole damned world to see. But he couldn’t help it.
    God help him.
    He made an effort to ease his expression. To relax his stance.
    However, Carson was still staring at him, the look in his eyes changing from one of alarmed concern to one that burned with probing curiosity.
    And why not? James had just made a first-rate coxcomb of himself.
    “She’s in a very fragile state,” James said, trying to replace the tension in his tone with something halfway rational.
    “Yes, of course she is. And you feel protective of her. I understand, James,” Carson said, his expression returning to one of concern.
    “I don’t know about her traveling at the moment.”
    “Well, you cannot stay in town with her. Not without some woman of her own station to act as chaperon.” Carson offered a slight smile. “Even an old reprobate like myself knows this.”
    Despite the smile, the concern in Carson’s gaze had intensified.
    “I’ll handle it,” James said, his tone still somewhat stiff.
    Carson frowned. He reached for the empty glass on the table beside James. “Shall I handle this?”
    James opened his mouth to say no. It wasn’t his custom to drink more than two glasses of strong spirits at any one sitting. At least, it hadn’t been until last night. He was suddenly aware of a slight pounding behind his temples and the damnable dryness of his throat.
    God, he could definitely use a drink.
    He nodded.
    Duncan stood and went to the sideboard and poured them more whisky. They drank in silence for a time. The fiery liquor spread through James like an elixir. He felt his tension begin to melt away.
    A dangerously seductive self-indulgence.
    “Donna wanted to keep this a secret,” Duncan said, leaning close once more. “But under the circumstances, I don’t think she’ll mind you knowing. She’s with child again.”
    “Congratulations,” James said with a guarded smile, relieved beyond measure at the change in subject. He lifted his glass to Duncan’s in a manner of a toast, which the other man accepted with a grin. Ease had returned between them.
    “’Tis just the very start. We’ve told no one else.”
    “Then I am honored.” James’ smile became more natural.
    “I wanted her to have one last chance to kick up her heels. To behave in less than ladylike fashion if she chooses before this next lying-in. But I have asked Dr. Stephens to travel with us. He will be staying at Brownwood Place with us. You’ll be close by, if you need him.”
    It might be just the solution. It would raise no brows. And Duncan was correct; the servants would simply take Sunny for his a mistress. He could come and go without questions.
    Sunny could recover free from the ever-watchful gazes of Society. In a week or two, he could reevaluate the situation and decide what to do from there.
    It could work very well.
    As long as no one discovered Sunny’s true identity.
    They would have to take great pains to ensure that didn’t happen. But what the devil? Had he suddenly gone mad? Would he really risk so much just so Sunny could have the privacy she craved?
    It’s my fault she’s been hurt. My neglect led to it all.
    That thought closed off any further protest that his rational mind might have made.
    So this was to be James Blayne ashore? James Blayne, the nobleman? A man who took to heavy drinking and made impetuous decisions with his heart?
    His heart.
    Why should he have so much trouble from such a closed off, atrophied organ?
    Sunny is nothing to me now but an obligation. I should simply find her a new doctor and a new set of maids. I could take her to the Highlands and let my female cousins care for her until she is stronger. I don’t owe her any more than basic safety and comfort.
    Yet he couldn’t wipe from his mind the memory of Sunny’s stricken eyes this morning, the fear quavering in her voice.
    I loved her once. God above, how I