“Well, he isn’t coming into my house!” the duke snapped.
“My brother is coming to stay with me for a time,” Jemma retorted. “And his child, my nephew, naturally comes with him.”
“For Christ’s sake, send him to the care of a farmer!” Beaumont said. “You can’t bring him up to your own feckless ways, Gryffyn.”
Lord Gryffyn was lounging against the door to the drawing room with a muscled grace that bespoke a lighthearted demeanor rather than sober industry. “Teddy will never be a farmer,” he said, apparently not turning a hair at Beaumont’s fury. “You haven’t yet met him, or you’d realize there’s nothing of the farmer in his veins.”
“What is in his veins, then?” Beaumont snapped. “Don’t tell us you’re finally going to reveal the name of his mother?”
“Attila the Hun,” Lord Gryffyn said without blinking an eye.
“Not known for his maternal instincts,” Beaumont said scathingly.
“Nevertheless, Teddy has Attila’s blood in his veins,” Gryffyn said. “I can’t send him to the country because I have to keep him under my eye.”
“May I respectfully request that you keep him under your eye in your own house, rather than mine?”
Jemma intervened. “I asked Damon to live here, Beaumont, at least for a time, because I have missed him while I lived in Paris. And I have a nephew whom I have never met.”
“Did it occur to you that the presence of an illegitimate child in my house is not precisely helpful to my career?”
Roberta could sympathize with the duke. The London papers were bound to find the presence of Lord Gryffyn’s illegitimate child interesting, especially in combination with the naked centerpiece and the return of the duchess.
“Your career, Beaumont, will have to survive the presence of your family. May I remind you that we are that family?” Jemma said with acid indifference. “Teddy is your nephew.” Her smile, a marvel of kindness, was met by Beaumont’s glowering fury. She waved toward Roberta. “You mistook my relative, Lady Roberta, for a charity worker, Beaumont. I shall be bringing her into society.”
Beaumont bowed frigidly in Roberta’s general direction. “And precisely how will you do that?” he asked. “I can hardly believe that my notorious wife is going to curb her activities to suit the sensibilities of matchmaking mamas.”
“I shall consider it if it would stop you from bleating about your career,” Jemma said, turning away.
A look of such rage went across Beaumont’s face that Roberta blinked. Then he bowed to his duchess’s back, and once to Roberta, and was gone.
When Jemma turned around again, her cheeks had gone red and she was breathing quickly. “How shall I ever live with him?” she said, looking at her brother. “You see why I want you to move in, Damon? I can’t do it, I really can’t.”
Her brother straightened. “I will come for a visit if you truly wish me to, Jemma, but I think it would be easier for both of you if I didn’t.”
“I shan’t survive here otherwise, Damon. I can’t live with him.” Her fists were clenched. “You must stay with me so that I can have a greater acquaintance with my nephew. And—And I need you.” She smiled a little tearily at Roberta. “I’m so sorry about the scenes we’re played you today. We’re as good as a farce. Or perhaps I should say a tragedy.” Her voice wobbled a little.
Lord Gryffyn put his arm around his sister and bent his head close to hers, murmuring something.
Roberta felt an odd twinge in her chest. She’d never had a brother or sister. Since her mother died, her closest companion had been her father, and whichever of his consorts happened to be living with them.
She backed into the sitting room and sat down. A moment later Jemma followed with Lord Gryffyn.
“You must think us hopelessly ill-mannered. I do apologize. Don’t take all those cakes,” she said, snatching the plate away from her brother. “My guest hasn’t even had one yet. Roberta, you must have one. Beaumont has an excellent cook, and his ratafia cakes are delicious.”
“I haven’t even met Lady Roberta properly,” Lord Gryffyn pointed out.
“This is Damon Reeve, the Earl of Gryffyn,” Jemma said. “If I tell you that his best friends call him Demon, you’ll know precisely how unworthy he is. Beaumont was absolutely right about his laziness: he never does a worthy action all day.”
“A charming introduction,” Lord Gryffyn said. “Please call me Damon. After all, we’re family members, as I understand.” He took another cake.
The duchess took the plate away and put it on the floor between herself and Roberta. “Eat as many as you like,” she said to Roberta. “I know him of old, and if I don’t act quickly, there’ll be none left for us.”
Gryffyn threw her an affectionate grin. “Beaumont had a point about his career, Jemma. Both of our reputations in the same small space may well damage it, not to mention Lady Roberta’s marital aspirations.”
“I missed you all these years,” Jemma said. “I’m not giving you up so soon, and I want to meet Teddy properly.” She turned to Roberta. “Damon’s son Teddy is just five years old.”
“He turned six last week, you unnatural aunt,” Gryffyn said. “I missed you too, Jemma. But I hardly want to cause the fraying of your marriage.”
Jemma snorted inelegantly.
“Beaumont doesn’t mean to be such an ass,” Gryffyn added.
“He just acts that way?” his sister said. “But enough airing our linen, dirty and otherwise, in front of Roberta. You must bring Teddy and his nanny this very afternoon.”
“Unfortunately, he has no nanny at the moment. Teddy has an annoying habit of escaping and the latest nanny stomped away in a temper yesterday.”
“Escaping? Where does he go?”
“Anywhere but the nursery. Generally he goes to the stables during the day. And he wanders the house at night until he finds my chamber, and then he climbs in my bed. Last night he couldn’t find it, so he slept in the vestibule until I came home. Marble floor. Cold, I should think.”
“My father had a dog like that,” Roberta said. And then clapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to compare your son to a dog, my lord!”
“Please, you really must call me Damon,” he said, looking absolutely unmoved by the slur to his offspring. “Children are slightly doggish, don’t you think? They need so much training, and they have a dislikable habit of urinating in public places.”
“I suggest you bar the nursery door,” Jemma said, “particularly now that you remind me of children’s indiscriminate attitude toward hygiene.”
“Can’t do that,” Damon said. “What if there was a fire? And Teddy, by the way, is past the age of indiscriminate peeing. He’s very good at seeking out a tree, just like the well-trained puppy he is.”
“Perhaps you could carpet the vestibule,” Roberta suggested. “If you mean to allow him to continue in this habit.”
“Remarkably uncharitable on both your parts,” Damon complained. Then he looked back and forth. “How odd! I suddenly see quite a resemblance between the two of you. Don’t tell me! My illegitimate child is only matched by our father’s own indiscretions!”