Barbara Metzger Read Online Free PDF

set kettles on to heat, lots of kettles. Trying to appear not altogether useless, the viscount was manning the kitchen pump to fill them. With every movement, his stomach gave another lurch. He could not help the groan that escaped his lips.
    "Oh, do sit down, my lord, before you fall down. Perhaps this will help.” The widow placed the loaf of fresh bread in front of him on the scarred and sticky table when he did collapse onto the only other chair in the room. Her daughter was still staring at him, sucking her thumb. He sat up straighter, trying to decide which female's disdain annoyed him more.
    Mrs. Kane was bending over the infant in its basket, cooing softly. She sniffed, then sniffed again, then gasped. “Why, this child smells of spirits! What have you done?"
    Lesley swallowed the bit of bread, which was now lodged in his throat. “Nothing. That is, my, ah, glass spilled while I was trying to—"
    Ever helpful, Byrd put in: “An’ he sleeps better for it, too."
    Carissa didn't want to know whether the baby slept better or the viscount. “That's why he is still napping, despite the jostling and all. The poor lamb will have a headache when he wakes, I'm sure."
    Someone could have a tad of sympathy for his headache, the viscount was thinking, wishing they would all lower their voices, but he wisely held his tongue. No need to aggravate his savior more than his presence already did.
    "My lord, you have no business having a baby."
    So much for restraint, he thought. For a servant, Mrs. Kane certainly spoke her mind. And Byrd was helping her. “That's just what I told him, missus. No business a'tall."
    "For the last time, my son—that is, my ward—stays here, until I can make other arrangements."
    Mrs. Kane was scornful. “Do you know what kind of ‘arrangements’ you'll have to make for even the shortest time? You'll need a wet nurse, a nanny, a crib, clothes and blankets, an army to clean this barracks so the dust bunnies don't swallow your s—ward."
    All he could do was try his infallible charm. Lesley smiled and said, “There, I knew you'd know just what was to be done. In fact, why don't you stay and oversee the overhaul of the place? I'll double whatever it is Sir Gilliam pays you."
    Carissa bit her lip to keep from laughing at his hopeful appeal. “No, I could never leave Sir Gilliam. He has been much too kind to me and Philippa. But I will send that note to the employment agency. Now I think the water should be warm enough for this young man's bath. What is his name?"
    Byrd and Hartleigh looked to each other, then at the baby.
    "You don't know?"
    "The note that arrived with him didn't say.” The viscount pulled the now-tattered letter from his pocket.
    "Thing is, we don't rightly know if he is a he in the first place."
    Carissa could only shake her head at yet another instance of the handsome lord's lunacy, and started unbuttoning the baby's gown and infant shirt. “Whatever makes you think it's a boy, then?"
    Lesley shrugged. Of course he'd have a boy. “He hasn't much hair. And ... and he belched."
    She laughed, one of the few sounds that did not seem to grate on the viscount's aching eardrums, and kept removing layers of fine cloth. “All babies expel air, my lord, and few have much hair for months. You, my lord, have a daughter."
    A daughter? Lesley looked at Mrs. Kane's doll-like daughter sucking her thumb, whose big brown eyes accused him of crimes he'd never thought of committing. A daughter? No soldier or seaman or stud-farm steward, but a porcelain princess? “Bloody hell, what the devil am I going to do with a daughter?” Stunned, he didn't even try to claim he was simply guardian for a friend's child.
    "The same as you would with a son. You'll find some caring family to adopt her, and give them a bit of money for her dowry. She'll never know her birth was irregular, never have the stigma of illegitimacy, and you will know she is safe and loved. Will you hand me that towel, my