ride since coming to London. The viscount idly wondered how a breeding farm would fare at his estate in Hertfordshire, or if he would enjoy setting up an Irish stud, like Lord Duchamp’s.
Rosie, meanwhile, tilted her face up to the sun. “You were right, lovey. This does feel heavenly.”
“Would you like me to find you a place in the country, then? A little cottage away from prying neighbors?”
“Lands, no. What would I do there? Who would I talk to? For sure there would be no work for a skilled professional such as myself.”
Again, he held his tongue concerning her various professions. “I had not meant for you to work. I would purchase the cottage, of course, if none are empty at any of my holdings. And pay its upkeep, naturally. Without asking anything in return,” he hurriedly added, lest she think he was making her a business proposition.
“Oh, no, you have been more than generous already.” She patted her protuberant belly. “With no good cause.”
“Well, if you do not wish me to support you, perhaps you would like me to look into finding a home for the infant, so you can go back to, ah, dealing. I am certain one of my tenants would take in the babe if I—”
“Give up my babe?” Rosie’s voice was so shrill one of the nursemaids hurried her charges away from the nearby duck pond. Homer jumped in to finish the bread crumbs. “Never! I could of done what some of the other girls do, but it’s my baby!”
“Yes, yes. Of course it is, and no one is going to take it away.” Wynn tried to sound soothing, instead of near panic. Lud, you’d think he stood between a mother bear and her cub the way Rosie was screeching. “But what else can I do to help, then?”
“You know what I want, Wynn. Although I suppose I should be calling you Ingall now, or my lord.”
He brushed that pomposity aside along with Homer, who wanted to wipe his wet whiskers on Wynn’s biscuit-colored pantaloons. The dog took off after the squirrels again. “Wynn is fine. Go on.”
“Didn’t you read my letters?”
“Of course, I did,” he lied, having read only the first two or three. “Your letters were one of the reasons I came back to England. To be of assistance. Tell me how again, now that we are face-to-face.”
“All I want is a name for my baby.”
Alan? Albert? Alexander? Wynn’s mind was racing, knowing full well he was on the wrong course. Hell, he was not playing the same sport!
Rosie was going on, unaware of his unease: “I want my baby to have a better life than I have, and for that he or she needs another name than mine. I can work again as soon as I get my figure back after the lying-in, and support us all, including the wet nurse. But no matter how hard I work, I can’t never buy my child respect. He’ll be shamed his whole life, without a father’s name, and shamed of me, his ma.”
“What about the father? Won’t he ... ?” Wynn was too polite to ask if Rosie even knew who the father was. He’d vowed never to duel again, but that would not prevent him from beating the man to a pulp, leaving just enough of him to stand in front of a curate.
“Gone on his honeymoon, the dastard.”
“I, ah, see.” He’d still flatten the dirty dish. He saw some ladies walking up ahead, so steered Rosie down a different path.
“And I thought you would marry me, instead.”
“But no one will believe I am the child’s father. I was not even in the country at the right time.”
“That’s no matter, if you don’t claim otherwise. I checked with a barrister. Since you’ve got no close kin to contest it, no one can say my baby isn’t yours.”
Wynn knew how the squirrels must feel. “But I, um, never led you to believe that I ...”
She slowly lowered herself to a nearby bench. “No, you never gave out false hopes, not like some I could mention, God rot his soul. But you never did get wed, for all these years. I would of read about it when you came into the title. So I figured you had no
Rosie, meanwhile, tilted her face up to the sun. “You were right, lovey. This does feel heavenly.”
“Would you like me to find you a place in the country, then? A little cottage away from prying neighbors?”
“Lands, no. What would I do there? Who would I talk to? For sure there would be no work for a skilled professional such as myself.”
Again, he held his tongue concerning her various professions. “I had not meant for you to work. I would purchase the cottage, of course, if none are empty at any of my holdings. And pay its upkeep, naturally. Without asking anything in return,” he hurriedly added, lest she think he was making her a business proposition.
“Oh, no, you have been more than generous already.” She patted her protuberant belly. “With no good cause.”
“Well, if you do not wish me to support you, perhaps you would like me to look into finding a home for the infant, so you can go back to, ah, dealing. I am certain one of my tenants would take in the babe if I—”
“Give up my babe?” Rosie’s voice was so shrill one of the nursemaids hurried her charges away from the nearby duck pond. Homer jumped in to finish the bread crumbs. “Never! I could of done what some of the other girls do, but it’s my baby!”
“Yes, yes. Of course it is, and no one is going to take it away.” Wynn tried to sound soothing, instead of near panic. Lud, you’d think he stood between a mother bear and her cub the way Rosie was screeching. “But what else can I do to help, then?”
“You know what I want, Wynn. Although I suppose I should be calling you Ingall now, or my lord.”
He brushed that pomposity aside along with Homer, who wanted to wipe his wet whiskers on Wynn’s biscuit-colored pantaloons. The dog took off after the squirrels again. “Wynn is fine. Go on.”
“Didn’t you read my letters?”
“Of course, I did,” he lied, having read only the first two or three. “Your letters were one of the reasons I came back to England. To be of assistance. Tell me how again, now that we are face-to-face.”
“All I want is a name for my baby.”
Alan? Albert? Alexander? Wynn’s mind was racing, knowing full well he was on the wrong course. Hell, he was not playing the same sport!
Rosie was going on, unaware of his unease: “I want my baby to have a better life than I have, and for that he or she needs another name than mine. I can work again as soon as I get my figure back after the lying-in, and support us all, including the wet nurse. But no matter how hard I work, I can’t never buy my child respect. He’ll be shamed his whole life, without a father’s name, and shamed of me, his ma.”
“What about the father? Won’t he ... ?” Wynn was too polite to ask if Rosie even knew who the father was. He’d vowed never to duel again, but that would not prevent him from beating the man to a pulp, leaving just enough of him to stand in front of a curate.
“Gone on his honeymoon, the dastard.”
“I, ah, see.” He’d still flatten the dirty dish. He saw some ladies walking up ahead, so steered Rosie down a different path.
“And I thought you would marry me, instead.”
“But no one will believe I am the child’s father. I was not even in the country at the right time.”
“That’s no matter, if you don’t claim otherwise. I checked with a barrister. Since you’ve got no close kin to contest it, no one can say my baby isn’t yours.”
Wynn knew how the squirrels must feel. “But I, um, never led you to believe that I ...”
She slowly lowered herself to a nearby bench. “No, you never gave out false hopes, not like some I could mention, God rot his soul. But you never did get wed, for all these years. I would of read about it when you came into the title. So I figured you had no
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