Page 70 of Duke of Iron
Logan cut her off. “That will not be necessary, Miss Masters. Thank you.” His tone was cool, but not unkind. He turned to May, the woman following his gaze.
“Duchess,” Logan said. “Miss Masters is one of the candidates for the position. She has—regrettably—never nursed a child of noble birth, but I am told she is resourceful.”
May nodded at the woman, who bobbed a curtsy and murmured something about “Your Grace,” before being dismissed by Logan with a flick of his hand. She left, the door closing behind her.
Logan faced May fully now, eyes searching hers for a clue to her mood. “How hard can it be to find a wet nurse in London?” he said, almost to himself.
May shrugged. “Perhaps the problem is not with London. Perhaps it is with the circumstance.”
He grunted. “I have had three letters from Lady Worth in the last day alone, asking if I am ill, since there are so many calls to the house from ‘childish women in aprons.’ Thetonwill know by dawn tomorrow that I have a baby stashed somewhere in the wainscoting.”
May found herself smiling. “It is not so bad. At least this is a more ordinary scandal.”
“Ordinary,” he repeated as if testing the word. “Yes. At least it is ordinary.”
She waited for him to say more, but he only paced the window.
“I can manage it,” May said. “Rydal—er, William—has been drinking goat’s milk without fuss. Perhaps, with a little luck, we can supplement until the right nurse can be found.”
He stopped, then looked at her. “You are sure?”
May nodded, though she was not sure at all. She suspected that neither of them had the faintest idea what they were doing.
Logan seemed distracted, as if something gnawed at him beyond the problem of the nurse. May watched him and wondered if she ought to speak her mind.You do not have permission, remember?The little voice in her head reminded her. Still, she could not let it rest.
“You seem… troubled,” she said softly.
He did not answer at once. “I am troubled by a great many things, Duchess. At the moment, the primary concern is that the baby is not mine, but the world will decide otherwise soon enough. I do not have the patience to keep a lie alive for very long.”
She wanted to reassure him, but instead she offered, “You do not have to be patient. Only persistent.”
He gave a thin smile at that, and the air in the room softened by a degree.
May took a breath. “If you wish, I can handle the arrangements from here. You need not bother with the nurse, or the child, or any of it.”
He arched a brow. “Is this your way of resigning?”
“Not at all. I am only suggesting that I might be more efficient. Besides, I quite like the baby.”
The admission surprised her more than it did him. Logan only regarded her, the sharpness gone from his gaze. “I am beginning to think you like all lost causes,” he said.
She thought of her sisters, her family, her entire life of patching things together, and said, “Yes. I suppose I do.”
They stood in an almost companionable silence.
May looked down, then back up. “I was also thinking,” she said, “that a physician might know more. About what to feed him, what to do until a proper nurse is found.”
Logan considered this. “You are very pragmatic, May.”
She shrugged, wishing she did not feel so exposed under the weight of his attention. “I am told it is a flaw.”
“Whoever told you that was wrong,” he said it so firmly that she blushed and turned away.
She cleared her throat. “If there is nothing more, I will see to the baby.”
He nodded, the stiffness returning to his shoulders. “Very well. Thank you, May.”
She left the study, feeling a strange tangle of relief and regret. She had not told him what she had intended—that she thought the gossip had moved on, and perhaps it would be safe for her to move to a different house, giving him the solitude he so clearly craved. Instead, she had volunteered for more work, and she did not know what that said about her, except that she was terrible at goodbyes.
