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I might have /known/ he would be too jealous to make the idea work and that Laura would be too squeamish. And I might have /known/ that she would run to Lord Sheringford and that he would take her away and abandon me to /you/. Oh, do stop gaping in that ridiculous way, Norman, and come along, or Randolph will leave without us." And she went hurrying back along the avenue, all delicate, feminine little steps and flouncing muslin.
For once Norman was speechless. He looked at Duncan, his lips working soundlessly, and then went scurrying off after his wife. "/Dash/ it all," Merton said when he was out of earshot. "Neither one of them gave me enough excuse to break his nose. My knuckles will itch with frustration for a week." "A woman's way of doing things is never quite satisfactory to a man's way of thinking," Moreland said with a sigh. "I still prefer your original plan of pounding Turner to a bloody pulp, Sheringford, while Stephen and I tossed the dice over who would have the pleasure of breaking Pe
Was it really all over? As easily as this?
Could he now return to Maggie and to Toby and assure them that their life together as a family was secure at last?
Where were they? In the nursery?
He hurried off in the direction of home without even stopping to thank his brothers-in-law for offering such formidable moral support.
He was ru
The carriage, he could see when he reached the terrace, was already disappearing down the driveway.
He took the steps up to the front doors two at a time.
Margaret had not moved from the chair in the nursery where she sat with Toby. Vanessa was standing at the window looking out, but there was nothing of any significance to see. The nursery was in the west wing with a view over the stables and the west lawn.
Margaret imposed deliberate relaxation on her body so that her anxiety would not convey itself to Toby, even in sleep. But, oh, it was so difficult to wait.
Bullies were usually cowards. Perhaps extreme bullies were extreme cowards. She fervently hoped so. She had based her whole plan on the theory. She had talked Duncan and her brother and brother-in-law into following her plan – Nessie had needed no persuading.
What if she was wrong?
She /hoped/ the encounter would not turn violent. Men always found it easier to use their fists than to be rational. Perhaps it was as well that Caroline Pe
Her rational mind told her that Toby was safe, that her suggested plan of action was bound to work. But it was hard to trust cold reason when so much was at stake. Randolph Turner had the legal right to take Toby no matter who his real father was. And he had wanted a son desperately enough to concoct that ghastly scheme. Perhaps he did not care what people thought of him. Perhaps … The nursery door opened quietly. Even so, Toby stirred. He rubbed an eye with one fist, burrowed closer for a moment, and then turned his head to watch with sleepy eyes as Duncan approached.
It was hard to read his expression.
Vanessa turned from the window. "Papa," Toby said, "has the bad man gone?" Duncan's eyes met Margaret's briefly before he bent forward slightly and set a hand on the boy's head. "He is not really a bad man, Tobe," he said. "Just a rather a
Margaret swallowed a lump in her throat and looked across the room to see Vanessa smiling at her. She was officially /Mama/, it seemed. "I suppose," Duncan said, holding out a hand for Toby's, "we can go and ask. But why Uncle Stephen and not Papa?" "Because he is taller than you are, silly," Toby said, ignoring his hand and dashing for the door. "Ah, yes, quite so," Duncan said as Margaret got to her feet. "Silly of me to ask." He turned to Margaret, took one step toward her so that his body collided with hers, and kissed her hard on the lips. "/Nessie/ is here," she said, her face flushing.
He turned his head and gri
Duncan gri
Had they returned?
Were they going to try to take Toby after all?
She came to an abrupt halt when she was still a few stairs above the hall. Duncan was down there already. So were Vanessa and Elliott and Stephen – with Toby astride his shoulders.
And so were Sir Graham and Lady Carling and the Marquess of Claverbrook. "Duncan, my love," Lady Carling was saying, "whatever has been happening? Is /this/ the child? He is perfectly adorable. Oh, just look at those curls, Graham! You utterly provoking man, Duncan, to have said nothing about him to your own mother. Graham has said that /of course/ you said nothing under the circumstances, but that is nonsense. I am his /grandmother/. There is the most dreadful gossip making the rounds in London, though, and Randolph Turner must have listened to it and even believed it, or he would not have come here to see for himself. And he /did/ come. We passed his carriage just the other side of the village, but he would not stop it when I waved to him or even look at us. Though he could not possibly have missed seeing us. How could he? He had other people with him too. I daresay it was Caroline and Norman, but they would not look at us either, and really they were quite pointed about it, were they not, Graham? They were not on their way to fetch a magistrate, were they? Oh, do tell me all, Duncan. No one ever tells me anything. It is most provoking." And she burst into tears.