To Wed A Viscount by Adrienne Basso Page B

the family, himself included. She had been loving and welcoming to his young son, holding her tongue despite the speculation in her eye when he introduced the boy.
    Griffin believed that Harriet suspected the true circumstance of his child’s birth, but for once had kept her curiosity and questions to herself. He was grateful for her restraint and her unspoken show of support, realizing he would need all the allies he could muster when it became known that his child was indeed a bastard.
    â€œDid Miss Linden say anything about young Neville?” Harriet inquired anxiously, as if somehow sensing his thoughts had turned to his child.
    â€œNo.” A cold numbness swept through Griffin’s body at the mention of his son’s name. “That nasty cold has kept him confined to the nursery since we arrived, with only his nursemaid, you, me, and Elizabeth for company. Apparently the servants haven’t yet had a chance to gossip to the village about him.”
    Harriet nodded her head eagerly. “I believe you are correct. The fact that Miss Linden never mentioned him means she doesn’t know of his existence. I would not be at all surprised if she tried to appeal to your parental instincts when making her outrageous proposal and offering herself as a surrogate to your motherless son.”
    â€œAnother role she is ill-equipped to fill?” Griffin teased, unable to help himself. When it wasn’t directed toward him, Harriet’s indignation and anger could be most amusing.
    â€œ ’Tis clearly impossible for such a self-indulgent woman to be a mother to a child born of her own body, let alone a stepchild.” Harriet rose to her feet, shaking the wrinkles out of her full skirt. “Trust me, Griffin, we are well rid of Miss Linden.”
    The satisfactory smile on Harriet’s face told Griffin his sister considered the matter closed. He dared not refute her impression, but in his heart knew that he needed to speak with Faith directly. The sooner the better.

    Faith had heard Griffin call her name. Even above the gusting wind and the pounding humiliation inside her head, his voice had rung true and clear. At the sound of those deep, male tones, panic had surged through her. The need to escape was real and intense.
    Her leg muscles had tightened in alarm, but Faith willed her feet to move swiftly. She bowed her head low and forged into the wind, nearly breaking into a run when she heard her name a second time.
    If he pursued her, she would have little chance of escape, yet she had to try. The humiliation of facing him again was just too impossible to bear.
    Forsaking the meadow, she hastened onto the main road. For once, Faith decided it had been a blessing to encounter the nasty Harriet Sainthill. At this very moment, she was most likely filling her brother’s head with every unsavory detail of Faith’s character and thus unwittingly delaying his pursuit.
    If she was very lucky, Harriet might give her just enough time to elude him.
    Her mind worked as frantically as her feet, and almost against her will, Faith relived each small detail of their encounter. The handsome set of his jaw, his initial gruffness, the ensuing friendly attitude. For an instant he had almost seemed pleased to see her. Until he learned of the reason for her visit.
    Faith’s cheeks grew hot. The encounter had renewed all her repressed longings—to someday be a wife, a mother, a woman who was valued, perhaps even loved. Such foolish dreams.
    A clattering noise up ahead alerted Faith to the presence of an approaching carriage. Griffin? Her heart skipped a beat; then she berated herself for being so foolish. If he had a mind to chase after her, the viscount would surely be mounted on horseback.
    Besides, the carriage was coming from the opposite direction. She moved to the edge of the road as it neared, but her pulse quickened when she recognized the blue-and-silver livery of the driver.
    Crying out in