Page 37 of A Landscape of Love

Pip’s mouth quirked, but he squashed the smile Leo felt certain was desperate to emerge and said simply. “Tilly would enjoy it if you joined us. I beg you will not disappoint her.”

There was a challenging note to his voice that Leo did not quite understand, but Mrs Harris did. She met his gaze, her jaw set. “I would be delighted,” she replied. “Come, Ottilie.”

Taking the child’s hand, she swept from the room.

“Delighted to cut your throat while you sleep,” Leo observed. “Brr. Is it cold in here or is it me?”

Pip snorted and sat down again. “She loathes me,” he said cheerfully.

“Well, you seem awfully pleased about it,” Leo observed.

“It’s my latest pastime,” he admitted. “Seeing how many times in a day I can rile Mrs Harris. I win if I make her lose her temper.”

“I see,” Leo said slowly. “Ashburton, old man, you don’t think perhaps you’ve been living in seclusion for too long? I begin to fear for your sanity.”

“Says the man who writes letters from his cat,” Pip observed with the lift of one eyebrow.

“Mau is an excellent correspondent,” Leo replied with dignity. “He simply has trouble holding the pen in his paws.”

Pip snorted and burst out laughing. “Pillock,” he said with a grin.

2nd March 1850, Vane Hall, Chiswick, London.

Hart looked up at the imposing façade of Vane Hall and sighed. He didn’t much want to be here, not being on the best of terms with his sister’s husband, Lord Vane. Kathy had also been adopted from the workhouse as he had been, though happily when she was only hours old, so she had only known the loving environment of their family home. Hart adored his sister, annoying wretch that she was, but she had married a man with a dark past and Hart could never quite come to terms with that. If he was being fair, which was hard whenever he considered Lord Vane, the man seemed to be a reformed character, and he made Kathy happy. Just as well, for the slightest slip, and Hart would have been quite prepared to find a big hole somewhere remote and bury him in it. He just hoped the devil wasn’t home. It was his sister he needed, and he didn’t want Vane poking his nose in.

For once, he was in luck. The butler greeted him and took him at once to his sister.

Lady Vane was reclining on a chaise longue, a book balanced on her well-rounded belly and a biscuit in her hand. She exclaimed as Hart walked in, setting the book aside.

“Hartley!” she said, struggling to her feet. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Lord, sis, you’re enormous,” Hart said in wonder, hurrying over to help her up. “Is it due any day?”

“Yes, like a big fat tick,” she said cheerfully. “And no, you great lout. You know very well I’ve another three months.”

“Well, I suppose I might have been a tad more complimentary,” Hart replied, smirking.

“Not much, so I figured I’d best get in first. Now come and sit down and tell me what trouble you’re in.” Sitting down again with a sigh, she patted the seat beside her.

“What makes you think I’m in trouble?” Hart demanded indignantly.

“Because you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t,” Kathy replied, with only a hint of reproach.

Guilt swamped him. It had been a long time since he’d been here. In fact, thinking about it, not since Kathy’s daughter’s christening. She must be two by now.

Hart groaned and put his head in his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Kathy laughed and reached over, ruffling his hair. “It’s all right. I know you by now. You just don’t notice the time flying past, but it is, Hart, and it will pass you by if you don’t stop and look up now and then.”

“I’m busy,” he said defensively. “I’ve a name to make for myself, things I want to achieve.”

“I know,” she said soothingly, patting his arm. “Now, about this trouble you’re in,” she added, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Hart sighed. He might as well get it over with. No point beating about the bush. “I need you to come with me to the Foundling Hospital and take a child away.”

Kathy’s face blanched, her mouth opening in a little ‘o’ of astonishment.

“No, Kath!” Hart said hurriedly, realising a bit of beating around the bush might have been prudent. “It’s not what you think. Not a child of mine, I swear it.”