Page 86 of A Remarkable Rogue

Clayton continued to stare at him until Nate returned his gaze. Then his old friend coolly arched a brow.

“Sinclair and I are brothers, whether we like it or not,” Nate explained simply. There was no emotion in his voice as he said that, no anger or bitterness, although plenty of both simmered inside him. “The past makes not one bit of difference to the present.”

“Don’t think I believe that for one moment,” Clayton said and turned back toward the carriage as the last preparations were made for departure.

Blowing out a hard breath, Nate admitted grudgingly, “The Sinclairs want to recognize me as a son of St James.”

He felt Clayton stiffen in surprise, but he didn’t dare look at his friend. “Are you going to accept?”

“I don’t know.”

If Clayton had asked him the same question two days ago, before Sydney admitted to loving him, he would have said no.

Hell no.

But now he had no idea what to do. Recognition would make no difference to the hard life he and his mother had suffered at the hands of the Earl of St James, but it might make a great difference going forward.

Nate shook his head. “But they don’t want me. They want the hero of Toulouse.” He wasn’t prepared for the bitterness of uttering that truth aloud. “They want to welcome a war hero into their fold, not the illegitimate son of an upstairs maid.”

“Or perhaps,” Clayton countered, “they simply want to do right by you.”

“That’s what worries me most,” Nate muttered, his shoulders slumping.

“Don’t let it. The Sinclairs are good people.” Slapping Nate on the back with brotherly affection, Clayton turned to head back into the house. “Safe travels,” he called out as he bounded up the steps. “See you in London.”

Nate looked back at the carriage and squared his shoulders. There would be time later to sort through what the Sinclairs wanted with him.

Now, he had to get Sydney and Robbie to safety.

“Go!” Nate called up to the driver as he swung into the compartment and locked the door. The carriage started forward into the night.

Sydney sat on the bench across from him with Robbie asleep on the seat beside her, his head resting on her lap. She’d wrapped him in a thick blanket to keep him warm against the chilly night, and now she gently stroked his hair and hummed to him in the soft glow of the carriage lamp.

Nate’s chest tightened. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Her eyes rose to meet his through the shadows, and she smiled tenderly. “So we’re off, then.” She softened her voice to keep from waking the sleeping boy. “Where are we going?”

“London.”

He’d kept their destination secret from everyone here but Clayton. Even the driver and tiger riding up top knew nothing more than to head east and keep their weapons at the ready. Nate planned on switching out both driver and tiger when they’d reached their first stop, which would be sometime near dawn, then again every time they changed teams. No one they encountered would know where they’d come from, who they were, or where they were going.

“London?” she repeated in surprise, yet she continued to brush her fingers through her son’s hair.

“We’re needed there.” They had no choice. Hawking’s arrest warrant wouldn’t be issued without Sydney’s testimony.

“Will we be safe?”

“I’m taking you to the Armory. It’s the safest place I know, and I’ve asked Brandon Pearce, Earl of Sandhurst, to send his valet to us.”

She blinked. “Why would we need a valet?”

Nate’s lips crooked into a smile. “Sergeant McTavish is far more than just that.”

Callum McTavish had been a trusted and dependable soldier during the wars, serving as aide-de-camp for several high-ranking officers, only to find himself cast out upon the streets after returning home. Brandon Pearce employed him as his valet not because the grisly old sergeant was good at fashion but because the earl knew he could trust McTavish with his life. He was incorruptible and deadly with both gun and bayonet.

“He’ll guard you and Robert well,” he assured her. “You’ll be safe under his care.”

“If we’re with Sergeant McTavish, where will you be?” The question came in the same soft voice she was using to hum to the boy, but Nate had become so attuned to everything about her that he easily heard the nervousness edging it.