Page 25 of How the Earl Entices

“Upstairs.” Alice eyed Ross warily. “Do you think it’s wise to have him here with the boy?”

“It’s all right.” Although the look she cast him was just as uncertain as her friend’s. “He’s going to help us.”

Alice didn’t bother trying to hide her disbelief as she raked a deliberate glance over him. “Where did he come from, poppin’ up out of the blue here?”

“It was a miracle,” Grace replied with teasing mockery. “You know, the kind of angel Vicar Brennan is always preaching about on Sundays.” As she stepped past him toward the stairs, she slide him a sideways glance and murmured, “Or perhaps one of the devils.”

Ross saw the amused glint in her eyes. She was sharp, all right. Perhaps too much for her own good.

“Ethan, come down please,” she called up the stairs. She turned back to Alice and clasped both of her hands. “I’m traveling to London with Mr. Thomas. Will you look after Ethan for me until I return?”

That surprised her friend. “London?”

“It suddenly came up.” Offering no other explanation, she pressed, “Will you watch him?”

“Of course.” From the way Alice Walters continued to glare at Ross distrustfully, she most likely expected him to murder Grace right in front of her. “You trust this man?”

“Not at all,” she answered quickly, and far too earnestly for his comfort. “But if he gives me any trouble, I’ll simply tie him up.” She cast a sly glance in Ross’s direction that told him she meant just that. “He also needs a change of clothes.” She added in a private jab, “Something that doesn’t make him look as if he fell into the English Channel.”

“And a shave,” Alice muttered.

He rubbed a hand against his jaw and flashed the older woman his best rakish smile. Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away.

Grace narrowed her eyes and mouthed,Stop that!

He winked at her. Which causedhercheeks to flush. He was beginning to find a new appreciation for women in fishing villages.

“Do you think you have an old set of your late husband’s clothes that might fit him?” Grace asked.

The older woman mumbled, “Might have.”

“You’re the one who keeps telling me that it’s time I claim Ethan’s inheritance for him,” Grace reminded her in a soft voice that Ross suspected he wasn’t meant to overhear. “This might be my only chance.” Her frown softened. “Itwillwork out, I know it.”

Alice nodded, although reluctantly, and pulled her hands away from Grace. Sending a suspicious glance at Ross, she walked into the backroom.

Ross folded his arms across his chest. “She doesn’t seem happy about this.”

“We’ve surprised her, that’s all.”

He suspected they’d done a lot more than that. “She knows about your past?”

“The only one who knows, except for you.” Lowering her voice and glancing toward the stairwell, she rested her hand entreatingly on his upper arm. “Ethan canneverknow, understand? Not unless I’m successful in retrieving his inheritance. I can’t risk that he might tell someone, or attempt something foolish when he’s older.”

He placed his hand over hers, pinning it there. “You think his uncle would harm him?”

“I know so.” Her scar showed bright pink as her face paled beneath it. She slipped her hand away and turned back toward the stairs. “Ethan!” she called out again. When silence greeted her, she slumped her shoulders with a frustrated sigh and grumbled, “How is it possible that he can hear whispers about birthday and Christmas gifts from two rooms away but can never hear me when I call for him?” Losing her patience, she shouted, “Ethan,now!”

Stomping steps reverberated overhead, then slowly down the stairs. A boy who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, slight of build and with a shock of unruly hair, grudgingly emerged from the stairwell and went to his mother.

She dropped to her knees and pulled him into her arms, to hug him tightly to her. But the boy scowled and stepped back, darting an embarrassed look at Ross.

“Mother, I’m not a baby,” he protested wearily.

Ross suspected that Grace had heard that same admonishment countless times before, yet that didn’t stop a pained expression from flitting across her face.

She plastered on a smile as she rose to her feet and took the boy’s shoulders in her hands, to turn him to face Ross. “Mr. Thomas, this is my son Ethan. Ethan, this is Mr. Christopher Thomas.”

Ross noted that she didn’t add any further explanation of who he was or how he knew her, althoughthatwas still just as much a mystery to him. He inclined his head and held out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Master Ethan.”