Maddy was tired, but she knew she’d never sleep. Not with Nash sitting opposite her, looking handsomer than any man had a right to be. His gaze passed over her from time to time like a featherlight caress.
Of course she couldn’t sleep. What if her mouth fell open? Or she snored? Besides, Lucy had fallen asleep in her lap and Maddy’s arm was aching. She shifted uncomfortably.
“What is it?” Nash leaned forward.
“Nothing. Just pins and needles.”
“I’ll take her.” Nash lifted the little girl out of her arms. Lucy stirred but didn’t wake.
“Thank you.” Maddy stretched and massaged her arm. She sat back and gazed out of the window, pretending to look at the scenery, but secretly watching his face in the reflection of the glass.
He was a constant surprise, this man she was going to marry. In the last few days she’d seen sides of him she hadn’t imagined. And today seeing him with his brother showed her yet another aspect of him.
What had Nash said about his family? That they’d been torn apart? She’d seen no sign of that with Marcus. The two men were obviously close, despite their different natures.
And soon she would meet his half brother, Harry, and his wife.
She nudged his leg with her foot. “Tell me about Harry. Is he like you?”
He gave a muffled snort of laughter. “Like me? In looks, perhaps, but not in other ways. I’ve probably talked more to you in the last week than Harry has talked to anyone in his whole lifetime. The strong, silent type, my half brother, Harry.”
“Half brother?”
He glanced at the sleeping children and shrugged. “It’s no secret, but it’s not a pretty story. Harry’s mother was a maidservant who fell pregnant to my father during a brief period when he and my mother were estranged. When the pregnancy started to show, Father had her married off to the local blacksmith, one Mr. Morant. She died and the smith mistreated Harry, so my great-aunt Gert, no respecter of convention, took him in, along with Gabe.”
Maddy hesitated, trying to tread delicately. “So Gabe is also a half brother?”
“No, he’s the true, legitimate son of both my mother and father. The resemblance to my father is unmistakable, though we both have our mother’s blue eyes.”
Maddy turned the information over in her mind. It didn’t make sense. Why had his great-aunt taken Gabe in? Why wasn’t he reared with Nash and Marcus? “I’m a little confused.”
Over Lucy’s tumbled curls he gave her a rueful sigh. “I’m not surprised. It was the result of my parents’ tumultuous marriage. I told you before that they were madly in love. Their life together consisted of a series of passionate quarrels and even more passionate reconciliations. To Mama, it was the breath of life.”
“And your father?” She was beginning to understand why Nash rejected the very notion of a love match. Or what he thought was one.
“Father adored my mother, loathed the fuss. Marcus takes after him rather a lot, only he’s more . . . contained. Quieter.”
Maddy wasn’t interested in Marcus. She wanted to hear about the little boy who was brought up away from his siblings . . . as she had been.
“But why did Gabe live with your great-aunt? Surely the children weren’t involved with the quarrels?”
Nash stared out of the carriage window for a long time, watching the scenery slip by. His eyes were bleak.
“I told you once how my parent’s passionate emotionalism tore the family apart. Gabe was the real victim.”
She waited.
“During one quarrel, Mama, who wasenceinteat the time, told Father the baby was another man’s—it wasn’t, of course, but she wanted to provoke his jealousy.” He grimaced. “It did. He threw her out and took Harry’s mother as his mistress. Mama gave birth to Gabe in London, and though they made it up later, Father would never allow Gabe to be brought home to Alverleigh. Mama left him in the care of servants in London for the first seven years of his life, only seeing him when she came to London. He’d probably still be there had it not been for Great-aunt Gert.”
He moved, adjusting Lucy’s position, and shook his head when Maddy made a gesture to take the little girl. “She was a character, Great-aunt Gert. Extraordinary old woman. We boys were in tremendous awe of her because of the way she ordered Father around—and as far as we knew, only God could tell Father what to do.” He chuckled. “Even my aunt Gosforth claims she was terrified of her, and once you meet Aunt Gosforth you’ll know she’s not lightly intimidated.”
“What did your great-aunt do?”
“As the story goes, she marched into the London house and confiscated Gabe from my mother, tucked him under her arm like a brown paper parcel, and whisked him off to Dorset, where she brought him and Harry up as gentlemen and brothers, Renfrew blood counting for more, with Great-aunt Gert, than any nonsense about legitimacy. Legitimacy, she used to say, was nothing but man’s vanity, but children came from God.”
“Oh, IlikeGreat-aunt Gert.”
He chuckled. “She’d have terrified even you.”
