A Baron in Her Bed by Maggi Andersen Page B

story to be told here, and he wanted to learn it, but so far Eustace had managed to avoid his probing questions. He had complained of the ague and retired to his rooms. Something was wrong. Guy needed to delve deeper into the reasons behind the estate running at a loss. How was it possible for this to happen, with all the money his father had sent from France over the years?
    Guy sensed his father’s presence more strongly here in England. He was saddened, not only because his relative had mismanaged the finances, despite the comfortable living the estate had afforded him, but also because his father had walked away from so much that had mattered to him. His roots. It was evident in the portrait gallery, where the Fortescues went back hundreds of years. And it struck at the very core of who he was. Guy knew it had been the same for his father. John Strathairn had told Guy what had taken place before his father rushed from England’s shores, all those years ago. A young blade, father had flirted with a married lady and stirred the ire of her jealous husband, Earl Spender, who had slapped his face with his gloves and demanded satisfaction. Guy’s father’s friends had tried to persuade the earl to walk away, for the sum of it had been a brief kiss in the moonlight, but the countess had a history of dalliance, and her husband intended to make an example of his father.
    The two men and their seconds met at dawn on a London common. As the earl was known to be a poor shot, Guy’s father planned to delope. Earl Spender’s shot went wide. His father fired into the ground, trusting the seconds would then call a halt. But the earl insisted on a second shot and fired first. When Spender’s bullet grazed his father’s cheek, he fell back and his pistol fired, ending the earl’s life. Before daybreak, his father had left England, never to return.
    The one thing that made this tragic event easier to bear was the Frenchwoman his father had married. His mother’s warmth and love for them all overcame everything. Guy swallowed the sorrow and loss that threatened to overtake him. Here in this gallery, he felt it strongly. They were gone. He must live his life in a way that honored them both.
    No doubt Eustace would be more approachable, if not more respectful, if Guy could produce the proof of his birth. But so far his search of the countryside had failed to find it. The bag could have fallen off anywhere. Grateful the snow had melted, he determined to continue his search the next day.
    Guy strode back into the salon and poured himself a brandy. The servants had retired for the evening. The house was quiet except for the sound of mice scratching behind the wainscoting. He seized a candelabrum and made his way to the solar, planning to search below it for the secret passage his father told him about.
    The steps took him down to a long narrow storage room, pitch black and stuffy. He moved along the walls but could detect no sign of a door. After a frustrated hour of searching, he gave up and returned upstairs.
    He must deal with the matters at hand. Eustace certainly, but first… He paused and smiled. Simon.

Chapter Seven
     
    When Monday came, Horatia picked at her breakfast and ate even less at luncheon, drawing concerned comments from her father. Just to please him, she forced down several mouthfuls of cold beef.
    At half past one, she excused herself from the library where her father smoked his pipe and read a periodical. She hurried upstairs and donned the groom’s clothing, her fingers stumbling over the hidden button on the fall-front breeches.
    As she passed the kitchen, she heard Jim, the stable boy, chatting to Cook. He had needed no urging when Horatia suggested he sample the biscuits and cakes fresh from the oven.
    It was blustery and cold, but snow had not fallen for days. The ground was mushy with melted ice, and heavy grey clouds hung overhead. Horatia hesitated as the wind whipped around the corner of the house, a